I'm really, really sorry for how long this update took! Real life got in the way, and it really sucks.
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Dallas stood on the front porch of the farmhouse, one hand poised over the doorbell while the other rested reassuringly on his gun holster. He had wrestled with himself over what to do from the moment his conversation had ended with Luke. On one hand, he had made a promise, and Dallas was nothing if not a man of his word. But what if something happened? That question had been echoing through his head for the past forty-five minutes.
Ultimately, what it had boiled down to was, could he deal with the guilt if something happened to Luke or Noah? The answer had been a swift and resounding 'no', and Dallas had found himself driving to the farm with every intention of telling Lily and Holden the truth.
Shaking himself back into the present, Dallas patted his gun absently before he rang the doorbell, wincing as the loud sound rang through the stillness of the night. Assuming that the Snyder's were in bed, he almost jumped in surprise when Lily answered the door within seconds, fully clothed.
She blinked at him once in surprise, and Dallas noticed the deep circles under her eyes, and the redness tingeing them. "Dallas?" she asked in surprise, before stepping forward and hugging him. "How can I help you?"
"Sorry if I woke you," Dallas said, the words coming almost unbidden from his mouth – a stalling tactic. He was about to ask if he could come inside when Lily cut him off.
"You didn't. None of us were sleeping, anyway," Lily explained. "Faith had… a bad dream, and everyone was just talking. Except for Luke… he went back to the apartment to be with Noah." Lily looked up, and her gaze sharpened when she saw Dallas stiffen ever so slightly. "Are you here about the boys? Is everything okay?"
"Can I come in?" Dallas asked, deliberately not answering Lily's question, something she realized immediately. Lily nodded wordlessly, her face paling as she stepped out of the doorway, allowing room for Dallas to answer.
"Sweetheart, who's… oh, Dallas," Holden said, walking over to the duo before stretching out a hand. "How can we help you?"
Dallas shook Holden's hand before rubbing the back of his neck, trying to figure out where to start. "Is Lucinda here?" he asked, knowing that she would be able to help him explain.
"No, she's not," Holden said slowly, instinctively running a hand down Lily's arm. "Why? This isn't a social call, is it?" Holden whispered, feeling Lily tense beside him at his words.
"No… it's not." Dallas confessed, wanting nothing more than to lie, to spare the Snyder's he knew he was about to cause them. "Can we sit down?"
"No!" Lily yelled unexpectedly, a sudden fire in her eyes. "If there's something going on with my boys, you tell me, and you tell me now! There fine, right?" The anger morphed into desperation, and Lily was in Holden's arms before Dallas could blink, Holden's chin resting on top of her head. Holden's eyes burned into his, and Dallas could see the wavering strength mixed in with endless questions.
Dallas looked at his feet while Holden whispered to Lily. Moments later, she looked up and wiped tears from her eyes before beckoning Dallas to follow her. Dallas walked into the living room and noticed Faith and Natalie sitting on the couches, heads bent together, talking quietly.
They didn't look up until Holden cleared his throat, Lily behind him in an attempt to keep the girls from noticing how distraught she looked. "Faith, Nat, I think it's time you go to bed. It's almost eleven o'clock!" Holden's light tone fell flat, but only Faith seemed to notice. She narrowed her eyes as Natalie stood up off the couch, walking over to her dad and hugging him around the waist.
"'Night, daddy," Natalie said, squealing when Holden picked her up and kissed the top of her head.
"Goodnight, my angel," Holden whispered into her hair, just loud enough for his voice to break. Natalie kissed Holden on the cheek before hugging Lily as well, squeezing tight before heading up the stairs to her bedroom.
Faith was still sitting on the couch, her eyes darting from her parents to Dallas like a skittish colt. "Faith, honey, can you go keep Natalie company?" Lily asked from behind her husband, failing to hide her emotions. "Please?"
"No!" Faith yelled, jumping off of the couch. "Something's going on, and you're trying to hide it from me. I'm not stupid, mom. Nat will be fine without me, and I deserve to know what's going on. What is going on?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at Dallas.
Dallas took the slightest step back, more in shock than anything else; he'd had no idea that there was so much fire in Faith. He refused to answer her question, taking his cues from her parents instead.
"Faith…" Holden began, trying to figure out where to start. "We aren't treating you like you're stupid, it's just…."
"It's just that you don't think I deserve to know!" she yelled, wrapping her arms around her waist. "I know a lot more than you think I do! I know that Noah and Grandma Lucinda were doing something behind Luke's back, and no one caught on! I'm not stupid, you know." With that, Faith turned on her heel to run out of the room, before abruptly turning back around.
"No," she said, shaking her head before looking at each of the adults. "I'm not going to run away. I'm going to stay here until you tell me what's going on. And don't look at each other as if you're trying to figure out what to do with me," Faith blurted out suddenly. "I can tell when you do that."
Laughter bubbled up in Dallas's throat, and he turned it into a rather loud cough. Judging by the glare Faith sent his way, he hadn't done a good enough job of disguising it, but the entire situation was just so Brady Bunch that he couldn't help it.
The knowledge of where Luke was heading, and where Noah already was, settled back into his skin, trickling down his spine like cold water and dispelling any humour he'd been indulging in. Faith was sitting on the couch, arms crossed and face set, daring anyone to challenge her right to be there.
Seconds ticked by, and the tension grew in the room until Holden and Lily sat down on an adjacent couch, a silent surrender to Faith's demands. There was no gloating on her face, however; just a fierce desire to be included.
The silence was broken by Lily's sniffles, followed shortly by Holden's short, effective question. "What's going on, Dallas?"
Dallas set his hands on his lap, folding them together as he tried to assume his professional 'cop' attitude, only to find that he couldn't. He cared about Noah and Luke, damn it, and he couldn't just turn off his worry like a light switch.
"When was the last time you saw Luke or Noah?" Dallas asked, a perfunctory question that made the entire reason behind his visit clear. Lily paled further and Holden became motionless, unable to respond. Dallas was about to repeat the question when a small voice broke into the silence, fragile yet steady.
"He was here a few hours ago," Faith said, her eyes darting up and locking on Dallas's. "I called him… I needed someone to talk to, and he came right over."
"What time did he leave?" Dallas asked reflexively, the same question he'd asked thousands of times in countless interrogations. "Did he say where he was going?"
"Umm…" Faith mumbled, "I think he said that something was going on with Noah, and that he was heading to the apartment. Why? What's going on?"
Dallas took a deep breath for what seemed like the thousandth time that night before explaining. He started from the beginning, working his way to the current situation. Although he tried not to speculate, he did mention that he believed Eric had been shot by someone involved in the situation – meaning Winston. When he finished, his throat was dry, and he could see the shock and devastation etched on Lily, Holden, and Faith's faces.
"He's… he's gone?" Lily asked, the question so vague and yet so clear. "He's gone after the Colonel? And, and Noah's already there?" She brought a hand up to her mouth, but it was trembling so violently that she brought it back to her lap.
"Why didn't he tell us?" Holden whispered, his agony shining through.
"He told me… he told me that he didn't want you to prevent him from going to Noah," Dallas offered, hoping to provide some comfort.
"No, not just Luke!" Holden blurted, that agony only increasing. "Why didn't Noah come to us from the beginning? We're his family, just as much as we are Luke's. Why didn't he trust us enough to tell us?"
"Holden… I don't think it was a matter of trust, or love," Dallas began. "I think Noah was just trying to protect you, by keeping you away from his father." Dallas had no idea where his words were coming from; part cop intuition, and part guesswork, but he knew that he was speaking the truth nonetheless.
Holden swallowed once, heavily, before standing up and walking around the room. "Did he say where he was going?" Holden asked, knowing that it was a rhetorical question as soon as it slipped from his mouth. "Has anyone checked out his apartment?"
"I sent a unit over the apartment as soon as Luke called me," Dallas stated immediately. "They're over there as we speak, and they'll call me if they come across anything." He was about to continue, but was stopped as Faith stood up and ran out of the room, sobs trailing behind her. Lily rose, her own face
blank with shock and anguish, ready to follow.
"I'll get her, honey," Holden said before turning and following Faith, calling after her. Dallas looked up at Lily, and saw the raw fear etched across her face.
"It's happening again," she whispered, almost to herself, the moment Holden was out of the room. "First there was the camping trip… then New York, and now thatbastard has taken my children away from me, again."
Dallas fidgeted, feeling powerless and having no clue of how to act. "Lily, I…" he said, trying to think of something soothing to say, something to help her cope. Ultimately, there was nothing he could do but hope that Lily could cope with this, on top of everything else.
"I need to call mom," Lily said suddenly, reaching for her phone. "She'll know what to do, she'll know how to help, she'll…" Dallas nodded as Lily's voice trailed off, not quite sure if she was talking to him or herself.
"Wait…" Lily whispered, still staring at her phone. Dallas paid little attention, lost in his own thoughts and assuming Lily was talking to herself. "Dallas!" she yelled, correcting his assumption.
"Yes?" he asked, all attention immediately on her.
"I know how to find my boys!" she exclaimed, grasping onto his shirt in excitement, or desperation; Dallas wasn't quite sure.
As if on cue, Holden walked back into the room, muttering something about Faith having gone to bed. One look at Lily's face showed him that something was going on. "What?" he asked, fear and hope represented equally in his voice.
"Holden, I know how to find Luke and Noah!" Her eyes were so full of hope and clarity that both Dallas and Holden couldn't help but believe her.
"How?" Dallas asked, preparing himself for the frantic tactics of a mother, desperate to have her children back. Lily explained, and Dallas found himself realizing that Lily was very, very right; this could be their way straight to Luke, and Noah… as long as they weren't too late.
*
*
Damian absently glanced over at the empty seat to his right before returning his attention to the road, speeding along the empty highway. The beginnings of fatigue were tugging at his body, begging him to drive to his temporary home and lie down, but he resisted. His job wasn't over yet; he had to make sure that his son was safe before he could give into his need for rest.
Damian firmly pushed any regrets he had aside. Regrets, as many years dealing with the more shady side of life had taught him, were for fools. He couldn't change the past, so there was no point in regretting what he had done. His theory had always rung a little hollow, especially after endless nights lying awake and thinking about hisLuciano and his Lily, so painfully far away from him.
'This was supposed to change that,' he thought absently, before shaking his head. 'Winston betrayed me, and that's that.' An icy rage descended over Damian when he thought about how he'd been played by the Colonel, played by a man who was almost as insane as they came. The rage numbed his mind, pushed back possibilities of schemes and revenge – although he never referred to them as 'schemes' – and caused him to act stupidly, recklessly. Like I did with Noah.
That fierce, stupid regret pounded through him as he thought about what he had done; how he had left Noah alone with that psychopath. The regret was swiftly buried under pounds of rationalizations, but it was still there, festering and swelling.
Damian slammed on the breaks as he realized that he'd almost passed his turn, and turned his car to the right sharply. He drove halfway down the driveway before parking, turning off his headlights so his location wouldn't be revealed.
He grabbed his phone and dialled a number from memory, listening and barking a few short words into the phone before hanging up. The man he had talked to, Rogers, was patrolling the empty lot with a couple of Winston's former army friends. Damian had made sure to sneak a few of his own help in, so he could receive an unbiased report of what was going on. Even though he could trust Rogers, he didn't know if Rogers would be able to stop Winston's men from attacking if he, or Luke, went into the lot. Hence the reason he was parked in the middle of the driveway.
With the engine killed and no companionship, Damian was left alone to his thoughts; something he'd been trying to avoid at all costs over the past few days. Even though he refused to regret what he had done, he tried not to muse on past actions, and he found that when he was alone, his thoughts would stray there all-too-often.
The question that Noah had asked had stung him deeply, and repeated itself in his head with all the bravado it had originally carried. Are you trying to punish Luke, for being who he is?"
"Of course I'm not!" Damian yelled in response, his voice as loud as a gunshot among the silence. "I don't have a problem with Luciano being gay." Damian knew it was the truth; everything that had happened had nothing to do with Luciano being gay, and had everything to do with him refusing to acknowledge his Grimaldi lineage. If he had just accepted who he was, then none of this would've happened.
As hard as he tried, Damian found that he couldn't get mad at his son; he loved him, and they were family. This was the last thought in his mind when headlights pierced through the windows, and the rumbling of a vehicle became clear.
Damian hastily switched on his headlights, not wanting whoever was driving down the road to crash into his car. His gut instinct, which he had learned long ago not to mistrust, had lead him to believe that Luciano would find out where his boy- where his friend had gone. If Luciano showed up here, it could be suicide; that's why Damian had been staking out the lot.
A car screeched to a halt in front of him, and a blonde figure jumped out of the drivers seat and ran for the forest, trying to conceal himself.
"Luciano!" Damian yelled, watching as the figure halted in its tracks. Slowly, the figure turned around, his silhouette outlined by the car's headlights. Brown eyes squinched up against the light, and a face that was undoubtedly his sons turned to face him.
"Damian?" A cracked, dry voice asked, "what are you doing here? Where's Noah? Did you take him?" Before Damian could say a word, Luke had him pinned against the car, his pure fury making up for the height, weight and age difference. "Where the fuck is Noah, Damian?"
A small part of Damian marvelled at the masculinity pouring off of his son in waves, and how Noah seemed to be the one to bring it out of Luke. His thoughts quickly changed direction when he realized Luke had no intention of letting him go; the look in his eyes was feral, bordering madness.
"Luciano, I didn't kidnap Noah," Damian said, intentionally ignoring Luke's question. "Let me go, son. Please."
"I'm not your son." Luke growled, but released Damian nevertheless. "What are you doing here?" he repeated, holding his ground.
"Waiting for you," Damian replied, wincing internally at his choice of words.
"Waiting for… that means that you knew…" Luke stuttered, pieces flying together faster then he could track them. Unbidden, Noah's words from the station floated to mind; "Why is he blackmailing Eric? How did he get the money to pay for Sarah's medical treatment? This isn't like him… all of this manipulating.".
"You were the one helping the Colonel!" Luke screeched, stepping forward. "You… you caused all of this!" Luke raised a fist, wanting nothing more than to pound the man in front of him, kill him for causing such a disaster.
"Yes," Damian admitted, "but I didn't mean for this to happen." Luke laughed, an ugly sound, and stepped even closer, his eyes burning with hatred.
"So that makes it okay?" Luke asked, seething. "That- that absolves you from guilt?"
"No," Damian replied, choosing his words carefully, "and I can tell you want to hit me. But that's not going to help you find Noah." Luke visibly flinched, and his fist lowered. Part of him argued that this was Damian's manipulation at its most basic, primitive form. The other part of him didn't give a shit; he just wanted Noah back.
"Fine," Luke said, pushing past Damian and standing at the passenger side of the door. "You're going to take me to Noah. Now."
"Luciano, I can't," Damian said, "he's not here."
"What do you mean, he's not here?!" Luke screamed again, pounding a fist on the car door. "He has to be here – it's what the DVD said, it's where he went… I know he's here!"
"It was a ruse," Damian began, before explaining the deception to Luke. To his surprise, Luke didn't interrupt, or blurt out anything; he just silently listened, before opening the car door and sitting inside.
"Luke?" Damian asked into the night air, before realizing his son couldn't hear him from within the car. He opened the door and ducked his head inside, only to be met with hard, brown eyes.
"Take. Me. To. Him." Luke demanded, daring Damian to challenge him. "If you ever want for me to even consider you as my father again, you'll do this." Blackmail and manipulation can go both ways.
Damian hesitated for a split second before getting into the car, revving the engine, and driving around Luke's car. There was silence before Luke said, "Damian… if this is a trick, and if I'm leaving Noah behind, right now… I'll kill you."
Damian had faced down mobsters, guns, knives, and more; yet his own son caused a reflexive shudder to work its way throughout his body. In that second, he had no doubt that Luke meant what he was saying.
"It's not, Luciano. I promise." With that, Luke fell silent for a brief moment. Moments later, he asked, "How do you know where Noah is now? Did Winston tell you?"
"No," Damian muttered, looking straight ahead. Before Luke could ask further, he explained what had happened, only twisting the events enough so that it seemed as if Damian had no choice of whether or not to take Noah; claiming that Noah had forced him, and that it was the best option.
When he finished, he glanced a look at Luke's face, and discovered that it was chalky white; just as Noah's had been hours earlier.
"How long ago did you drop him off?" Luke asked, tremors in his voice.
Damian looked at his wristwatch briefly before doing a quick calculation. "About an hour and a half ago," he said, chancing a glance at Luke and seeing his jaw clench.
"Do you have any idea of what Winston could be doing to Noah right now?" Luke whispered. "Any idea at all? He could be- oh god, he could be…" Luke's voice choked off, and Damian instinctively lifted a hand off of the steering wheel to set on Luke's shoulder.
Luke twisted away from the touch so violently that Damian thought the car would swerve because of it. "Don't you dare touch me," Luke hissed, pressing back into the corner of his seat. "Besides, you shouldn't touch the little faggot. You might be infected."
"Don't call yourself that!" Damian shouted, gripping the steering wheel tightly.
"Why not?" Luke retorted, just as quickly. "It's what you think, so why can't I say it?"
"None of this has to do with you being… gay," Damian said, knowing that Luke woudn't believe him. "None of it, I promise."
"You promise?" Luke laughed, harsh as ever. "Sorry Damian, but I don't think your word is worth anything. Now, take me to Noah." Damian was about to retort, but chose to fall silent and focus on driving, wracking his brains in effort to find a way for this to work out – without fatalities.
*
*
Noah stood along the edge of the trees, his eyes resting on the small, wooden house lying in front of him. He had been expecting a shed, a warehouse, a storage locker; not a manicured backyard and a home with all lights on.
As Noah looked on, he slowly realized how smart that the location his father – Winston – had chose truly was. No one would look for him here, in a house where a family could live with their pet dogs. They'd be looking for 'typical' kidnapping places.
Noah ran a hand over his stomach, feeling the slightest hint of reassurance when his fingers brushed hard metal through the material of his t-shirt. He mentally thanked Damian for the gift, knowing it would either be his savior or his murderer.
Noah inhaled the cool night air, mixed with the scent of pine and earth, before stepping out of the cover of the trees. He made his way to the house, hoping that the darkness was concealing his shape from anyone watching, and knowing that it most likely wasn't. As he walked towards the house, he realized that it was elevated on a hill, allowing whoever was inside to see below. Noah involuntarily shivered as he remembered countless lessons about battle tactics – being on higher ground then 'the enemy' had always been one of Winston's main rules.
Every step caused more dread to sweep through Noah's system, until he could barely force himself to move. The only thing keeping him from running away, running and never returning, was Luke. Knowing that his sacrifice was going to keep Luke safe was all that it took to keep his mind steady, and to keep his purpose clear.
When he reached the door, he raised a hand to twist the doorknob. The door swung open. There was no ominous creek, no gloomy shapes forming against the wall – somehow, it made everything creepier. Out of all of the horror movies Noah had watched, none of them quite fit what he was seeing now.
Warmth immediately embraced him, heating his chilled body. There was an electrical fireplace in the corner of the room, and a light green carpet. The walls were painted a creamy white, and an oak table was just visible from the next room. The atmosphere should've relaxed him, but it put him even more on edge instead; this was unexpected, and unexpected couldn't be good.
Noah refused to let his guard down, choosing to lay one hand on his stomach as he pressed his back to a wall, working his way across the room. When he had passed into what he assumed was the kitchen without hearing a noise, Noah felt the beginning of questions run through his head. Did Damian lie to me? Is my dad even here?
Noah felt the tension beginning to leave him when a noise echoed from below him, resonating throughout the house. Noah froze, before hearing the noise echo yet again. It continued to repeat, and Noah followed it gingerly until he was standing at the top of a flight of stares. The noise was still there; it sounded as if something was being banged against metal. It's as if he's trying to let me know where he is.
Noah fought off his instincts to leave by drawing a picture of Luke to mind – the way his cheeks would dimple when he laughed, how the heat of his body on top of him made Noah feel as if he was grounded, how those brown eyes could light up his entire world.
Feeling like a tightrope walker that just stepped off their wire, Noah pressed his foot onto the top stair, slowly making his way downwards. Thirteen steps later and he was at the bottom, only a door separating him from whatever was to come. Before he could talk himself out of it, Noah opened the door and inhaled sharply, waiting for someone to jump out of the shadows.
When nothing happened, Noah gingerly stepped into the room, noting how only the hints of light were visible in it, leaving the room to be swathed in shadows. It seemed infinite, and Noah could barely see beyond his own hand.
Four steps in, and Noah heard a noise behind him. He swung around as the lights flickered on, casting a dim glow on the grey walls and concrete floor. Standing behind him was a man he'd never seen before, aiming a rifle at his chest.
The man stepped closer, pressing the butt of the gun against Noah's skin briefly before retreating. "Walk," the man said, his lips barely moving. Noah hesitated, and the gun struck him again, this time on the side of the head, hard enough to make his ears ring. "I said, walk!"
Turning numbly, Noah walked forwards, waiting for the crack of a bullet to be heard, waiting for a trigger to be pulled. When the man said, "Stop," and Noah was still standing, he realized that he wasn't going to be shot – at least not by this man.
"That's all, Grey. Go resume your position." A voice echoed from the darkness, causing Noah's throat to tighten and fear to zing through his body. Any doubts he'd had about his father being alive were washed away with those seven words.
Winston stepped out of the shadows, a stream of light outlining his features. Noah absently noticed that there were lines on his father's face that hadn't been there before, and he seemed smaller – skinnier, perhaps? He was shook out of his thoughts when he heard the man behind him protest.
"Colonel, sir, I don't think that…"
"You don't think what, Grey?" Winston asked. Noah flinched, recognizing the soft tone all too well. It was the tone Winston would use preceding punishment, the one he'd use to explain just how Noah's punishment was his fault, and that if he had just been a little bit better, a little bit stronger, none of it would've been necessary. "You don't think I can handle this?"
"No, it's not that, Colonel!" Grey sounded panicked, and his words were tripping over each other. "I just, I don't want to leave you alone, in case…"
"In case I can't handle my own son?" Winston asked delicately, a savage grin spreading across his face. Noah couldn't see behind him, but he assumed that Grey had reacted to the threat-laced words.
"You know what, Grey? I think you've outlived your purposes." Before Noah could blink, before Grey had time to aim his rifle, a shot cracked through the air, the bullet close enough to Noah for him to feel the breeze on his cheek.
There was a strangled gasp, then a thud, and Noah found himself frozen in fear. "Go ahead, look," Winston said casually, amusement in his voice. "Do it, Noah." The taunt turned into a command, and the eight year old in Noah was turning around, eyes scanning the ground.
When he saw the man lying on the ground, he bit his tongue until it bled to hold back the scream. There was a blood pool on the ground, and the man's eyes were wide, his mouth opened in a silent scream. His ear was missing, along with part of his scalp; it had been blown off. Blood and brains oozed from the hole, and Noah swallowed heavily in an attempt to prolong vomiting.
When he had his urge to vomit under control, Noah slowly turned back around, only to see the amused face of his father staring back at him. "So, Noah," he said, a flash of silver visible before Noah realized there was yet another gun pointed at his head. "I'm sorry for how rude this is, but I can't really trust you, can I?"
Noah was silent, worrying his lip. "Answer me, Noah," the Colonel said, stepping closer and allowing Noah to see the madness reigning free behind those blue eyes.
"You can," Noah croaked out, knowing it was a lie. Without warning, there was a hard punch to his jaw, causing Noah's ears to ring and for him to hit the floor. He scrambled back up when he realized that the warmth beneath his hands was blood, still dripping from Grey's wound.
"You know how much I hate liars, Noah," Winston said casually, jerking the gun in Noah's direction. "Stand up and come over here."
A sharp retort was on the edge of Noah's lips, but he forced it back. He was almost sure that his father wouldn't kill him – yet – but he wasn't willing to take that chance. Until he could come up with a plan to get out of here, or to use Damian's gift, he had to play along.
Noah stepped forwards, eyes darting warily from the gun to his father's face, looking for any signs of humanity, only to be greeted with cold fury.
Winston kept the gun steady, aiming it at Noah's heart. "Step into the room behind me," Winston demanded. "You have ten seconds – if you're not in there, I'll shoot."
"You won't kill me," Noah blurted out, a small act of rebellion. "I'm no use to you dead."
"Maybe not," Winston mused, before an insane smile broke out on his lips, "but how would you like it if I shot a bullet in your elbow, or your kneecap?" The gun's aim changed, and Noah saw it was pointing downwards, at his groin. "Or even better, I could shoot your nuts off," Winston gloated, "it's not like a pervert like you needs them anyway."
Noah was blinded by fear, his limbs feeling disjointed. He refused to beg, knowing that it was what his father wanted. Minutes ticked by, before the gun was repositioned over his heart. "Get in the room, now." He knew he should be plotting a way to escape, to not give in to what the maniac standing in front of him wanted, but he couldn't help it. The shock of seeing a man killed, the shock of his father being alive, the shock of all of it was simply too much; Noah numbly obeyed.
He stepped backwards, keeping his eyes on his father, not on the gun. He refused to give him that satisfaction. He continued walking backwards until his back was pressed against a wall. The room was lit by a single bulb dangling overhead, illuminating bleak surroundings.
Before Noah realized what was happening, a slam reverberated throughout the room. He raced across the room, but it was too late; Winston had shut the doors behind him, leaving him locked in. Noah pounded on the door, only to realize that it was steel – Noah's hand came away bloody.
Words were echoing through the smallest crack in the door, and Noah strained his ears to listen. "I'll be back later, son. Then, we can talk, and figure out how I'm going to make you realize that you are a Mayer, and are not a pervert." With that, there was silence; complete, utter, mind numbing silence.
Noah forced down the panic and looked around the room. There was no bed, no bathroom, nothing; just four walls, a light bulb, a floor, and a ceiling. There was a window about ten feet off the ground, but Noah couldn't reach it, and he had nothing to break it with. Even if he could've broken it, there was no way he could squeeze his way out. The window was barely a foot wide.
Realizing he was trapped and at his father's mercy, Noah pressed his back to the cold wall and sank to the ground, allowing the numbness surrounding his body to leech into his brain. He felt cold metal digging into his skin. Shivering slightly, Noah realized that this was it. It was only a matter of time until his father came back, and then… Noah sighed heavily and wrapped his arms tighter around his body, refusing to contemplate what came next.
Ducking his head, he did something he hadn't done since he was just a child; he prayed. Not to God, but to Luke, to the Snyder's; to someone that could save him, save him from what he knew was going to come.
--
As always, I hope you liked it! Reviews mean the world to me =)