A/N: Chapter 6...A certain someone may be returning ;) Yay! Thank you to every one who has reviewed, alerted or favorited this story. I love reading the reviews so much! Mostly because you guys are getting into it so much! It's awesome! And I want to give a special thanks to Hikari no Kasai, cookielover101, and BTR CARLOS LOVER. You guys are AMAZING! :D Enjoy!

Warning: implied abuse, implied rape, some cursing

Disclaimer: I do not own Big Time Rush. What I own is Ethan Knight, Piper Reynolds, Thomas Creavy, or any other minor character.

August, Wednesday 1st, 2012

Ethan always knew, some day, that he would die. More specifically, from the moment 10 year old Ethan Knight woke up chained to a dirty wall with hundreds of pictures of him pinned to it, he knew that Thomas Creavy would kill him. And that was why he was now limping down the street and to the hospital...because Thomas Creavy, the devil incarnate, had tried to kill him...but this time was different. Unlike all the other times, he put up a fight. Ethan took a ragged breath and dizzily leaned against a nearby light post. He winced and wrapped his arm around his middle even tighter; trying to add pressure in attempt to stop the blood that was pouring out of him. He shook his head. No. He had to keep his mind on something else. He looked at the hospital in the distance. It was so bright...he couldn't remember the last time he saw anything with so much light and that was so big. It was like a beacon to him; ushering him to continue on, though he felt himself grow weaker and weaker.

He took a deep breath and pushed himself off the pole and continued trudging on. His movements were starting to get sluggish. 'Just keep thinking about...about hospitals,' he thought to himself. Hospitals. In his old life, didn't he used to go to hospitals a lot? No, it wasn't him. It was...what's-their-name...Kendra...Camille...no, it was a boy's name...Kevin? He knew it started with a K...or maybe a C...? He shook his head again. Nope, this wasn't doing much help either...

20 minutes later, he counted how long it was, he stumbled into the ER and to the front desk.

"I-I need a...doctor..." he stuttered in a quiet, hoarse voice. His own voice surprised him. He hadn't talked in such a long time...

The nurse at the desk didn't even look at him. All she did was push a clipboard with some paperwork over to him.

Ethan looked at the nurse incredulously then to the paperwork. He closed his eyes and again tightened his grip around his abdomen. 'Stay strong,' He thought to himself. 'Showing weakness gives them power...'

He shakily took the clipboard and staggered to the plastic-covered seats. He looked to his left where a lady was sitting with a small child, maybe about 3 or 4 years old.

"E-excuse me," he asked the woman. The woman smiled at him for a second, but soon that was replaced with a startled expression. It confused him for a second, but then he realized that he must've looked pretty sketchy; he was wearing a long black trenchcoat to hide his wound and the growing blood stain and one of his arms was hidden away, tucked inside his coat to keep pressure on the wound.

The woman scooped up her child and quickly left to sit somewhere else. He sighed, slightly wincing, and continued to look around for someone to help him. His eyes trailed around the room, but soon wearily closed his eyes. It was no matter to him; even with his eyes open, darkness began to steadily creep into his vision.

"Need some help?" he heard a female voice ask. He forced his heavy eyes open and looked at the woman standing in front of him. She was a nurse in maybe her late 20's and was sporting pink scrubs with small hearts and teddy bears on them. Why she was in the ER waiting room and not with some other dying person, he didn't know, but he wasn't going to ask either. If she was willing to help, he was going to take it. Ethan nodded once and the nurse took the clipboard from him and sat in the seat next to his.

"Name?" She asked.

He had to think about that one...did he even have a name anymore? He had a name once a long time ago, he knew that much. But then there were the fake names and fake identities that Thomas forced him to have whenever they moved to somewhere else...

"Uh...Jacob," he said quietly. "Jacob...Paisley." Lie. That was a lie. He flinched, expecting the punch or kick to have come already. But it didn't...he looked at the nurse confused. He was lying...he was lying through his teeth and she didn't attack him? He watched her write down the dishonesty. What was wrong with her?

"Okay. Nice to meet you, Jacob," She said kindly and continued on with the paperwork. "Date of birth?"

Ethan closed his lead-like eyes; it was easier than trying to force them to stay open. Again, he had to think about it. There was a time, when he was first taken away from his family, that he made himself remember everything; prepared an entire conservation for when he would be found:

Hi. My name's Ethan Knight. I'm 10 years old and I just graduated 4th grade. My favorite subject's English. I have 2 brothers, Kendall Knight whose 7 years old, and Carlos Garcias whose 6 years old. Any other siblings? Yes. I have a 2 year old sister, Katie Knight. Sometimes I think she's smarter than me. Why, you ask? Well, like I said, she's only 2 and already she's been able to hack into my mom's computer and organize our bills...or some adult thing like that. My parents? My mom's Jennifer Knight and my dad was Alexander Knight. Yes, was. He died in a car crash a little before Katie was born. I miss him a lot. My address? 184 Sycamore St. Northeast. That's in Zumbrota, Minnesota. It's near the Zumbro River. You're taking me home now? He would smile to himself at this part. Thank you.

For months, he practiced...tried to make it perfect. But eventually, he gave up on his speech as (being locked in a room that purposefully provided no sunlight) days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and months turned to years. Or what he thought was years...maybe. He still wasn't sure even now, being away from that bastard. Over the time he was with him, Ethan was never allowed to look in a mirror and even when they moved to a different state, city, maybe even country, he had a bag put over his head and was forced to ride in the trunk all to keep him oblivious. So, even if he did know how much time had passed since he was kidnapped when he was...wait. How old was he when that happened?

The nurse quietly cleared her throat, politely pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Can-can we...just...skip that...q-question?" Ethan slurred. He felt his chest grow tight, making it even harder to breath. He heard the nurse and a few other people gasp, while others were murmuring to themselves, making the buzz in the room even louder. What happened now? He slightly opened his eyes and through his blurred vision saw that his trench coat had become completely undone (when had that happened?) exposing his bleeding wound that had completely stained his shirt and pants in a red so dark it was almost black, and had also started to create a small maroon puddle at his feet. He knew the nurse asked him something, obviously not on the paperwork anymore, but he couldn't hear her. He could hardly hear anything anymore...the only thing he did hear was someone scream as Ethan fell forward, out of his chair and onto the floor. Thomas Creavy had once again been the source of his pain and the reason he blacked out.