The guy down in the basement didn't look much older than the three of us, which was what probably brought me closer to vomiting than had he been an actual adult. The guy was only half conscious now –probably exhausted from the screaming and crying and losing a lot of blood. That's what it looked like.

There were lights all around and Hunter had turned them on, which Hunter reported had scared the kid into silence. If they were bothering him so much, I kinda wanted to go turn them off, but I was still stunned and scared.

It was like something out of a horror movie –maybe not the Saw sequels but probably the original. He was chained to a metal table under a large fluorescent lamp, shackles around both wrists. He was only wearing a pair of shorts and his legs stopped above the knees (I did throw up in the corner when I saw that. Hunter told me to get a grip.) The kid was only wearing a pair of shorts, and the bits of skin that could be seen between splats of blood was incredibly pale and stretched too thin and tight over his bones. His hair was matted around his head, and hung in his frightened eyes when he looked at us.

"Don't… hurt… please."

I turned to Cam and then to Hunter, unsure of what to do. I knew what we had to do, of course, logically: we call the police and get the poor guy out of there. But in my panic I didn't think of that, so I turned to them for an answer. Cam seemed more collected than I was, though her eyes were equally wide in shock and fear; the horror of the situation seemed to wear off on Hunter, who turned to the both of us and offered our next move.

"We gotta get out of here."

"What? We can't just leave him here!" I knew Hunter wasn't the best guy in the world, but I never thought he'd abandon someone obviously in pain and so helpless. "We have to call for an ambulance!"

"Shut up, Dan. If we call for help the police will come. We're not supposed to be here. Do you really wanna get in that kind of trouble?"

And I didn't, but at the same time, I didn't think I could live with leaving this poor guy to continue suffering, maybe even die. I pulled my phone out, fingers shaking and palm sweaty, ready to dial. But Hunter reached over and swatted it out of my hand, and it fell to the concrete floor, cracking the screen. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I yelped.

"You're not gonna get us arrested for this. I'm getting the fuck out of here." And he stormed back up the stairs. Only Cam and I were left in the basement with the since unconscious prisoner.

I turned to my sister in desperation. Surely she'd know what we really needed to do. Cam bit her lip and looked like she was debating what was the best option, as if it were really a question. "Dan… if Dad knows I was out with Hunter—"

"You've gotta be kidding me," I groaned in exasperation. "You've gotta be fucking kidding. You would really rather stay out of trouble than get this poor kid the help he needs? This might be his only chance."

She shook her head and pulled her phone out of her pocket, and pushed it into my hand. "Wait two minutes. That'll give the two of us enough time to get out of here." And she ran upstairs.

The next hundred twenty seconds were maybe the longest of my life, even longer than my French oral exam last week. I paced back and forth in the filthy basement room, avoiding looking at the kid as much as possible, as I counted down from one twenty, then a hundred, a the final minute. I convinced myself that they'd had enough time to escape but only waited until I got down to forty before I started dialing.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"Hi. Um, I'm in this house at 152 Eastman Boulevard and there's someone chained up in the basement. He- There's blood everywhere but some of it looks old. And it- it looks like someone cut his legs off, but there's nobody else here. I don't know how long he's been kept down here but it looks like a while…"

She told me that police and paramedics were being dispatched, and asked if I wanted to stay on the line, but I didn't. "Alright. Is he conscious?"

I looked over and saw that his eyes were open again. Hesitantly stepping closer, I saw that they were glazed over but he seemed alert enough. "Yeah, he's awake, kinda."

"Try to keep him calm. Are there any open wounds bleeding?"

"No, it doesn't look like it." I checked him over again to make sure. It made me feel sick again to see how much pain he had to be in, but I managed to choke out a confirmation. "No, no bleeding I can see."

She must've heard how forced my voice was. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay on the line?"

"No, it's fine, thanks."

"Emergency responders should arrive in about five minutes." And we hung up.

I bit my lip and ran my hand through my hair before getting closer to the person's face. His eyes were starting to fall shut again, so I did as I was asked and spoke to him to keep him awake. "Hey. Hey, help is on its way. I don't know how long you've been here. I don't know what you've been through—" My imagination could run wild on that, just from what I was seeing here. "But it's just gonna be another couple of minutes. You're gonna be alright."

For a moment, he didn't seem to respond. Then he was suddenly sobbing, tears leaking from his eyes. He was slipping out again, but his lips moved, blood in his mouth leaving him difficult to understand when he spoke, but I made it out. "Thank you…"