Music tip:
Hozier – Take Me To Church
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Lovers of Freedom

Chapter 22:
No Help

"I'm done with you, Mitchell. Time to finally face your consequences."
It was Murphy.

It took Mitch a minute to realize what was happening, but as the cold air of the night hit him on their way to the black sedan, he froze. His plan had backfired. Jerome had been right all along.
Mitch was completely ruined, because whatever Murphy was going to do with him-

What was he going to do?

The older man pulled him relentlessly towards the car and practically threw him onto the backseat. Before Mitch had the chance to climb out again in his panicked state of mind, the door was closed by Murphy and then locked thanks to the driver.
"Let me out!" he screamed at the foreign person sitting in the driver's seat, but he didn't even blink at his desperate plea. Then Murphy sat down in the front of the car and a second later they were driving off into the night of LA.

"Where are we going?!"
No one answered him.

Again and again he tried to get a reply with a shaking voice and a clear mind, as if the alcohol had been suppressed by the adrenalin and the fear. He had to get help, because who could say what Murphy was capable of?! The only thing roaming around in his head was the last time he had been threatened by him physically shortly before the photo shooting. Now things were even worse and Murphy's rage was palpable in the marooned interior of the car.

With trembling fingers he pulled out his phone and more than once glanced up to make sure that neither the driver nor his boss took notice of the bright screen. Whom to write?! His family? No, someone who was close by, a friend, one of the guys, but whom- Jerome.
Multiple times he began his short message but deleted it shortly after, because his shaking hands missed the right letters most of the time. What should he write anyway? Where would they go? Would Jerome notice the message or was he already asleep? …should he write someone else as well? Just in case?

The car left the bright city behind and darkness surrounded them, as they drove off into the unknown. His heart beat painfully against his chest and finally Mitch managed to write a short message about his situation, telling them about his currently unidentified position.
He hit the send button. Jerome. And Adam.
Then the car pulled over at a small parking area and just as Mitch had put his phone back into the pocket of his jeans, Murphy tore the door open and pulled him roughly out of the car. Mitch barely stumbled to his feet, Murphy smashed the door close behind him and then tore the frightened boy with him over the abandoned and dark parking lot, until they had reached the other side of it.

"Who do you think you are?!"
Murphy's scream made him flinch and in the next second his back was pressed against a nearby tree. With trembling hands he tried to push Murphy off of him, but the strong grip on his shoulders was painfully tight. He couldn't make a sound, no one would hear him anyway, since they were the only ones on the dark and deserted parking lot.

"You are trying to compete with a company that could make you disappear in the blink of an eye without anyone questioning it. You are trying to compete with a company that has over 127 thousand employees, from whom a whole lot would do anything to be promoted, you can bet your life on that, Mitchell."

Murphy's voice was dangerously low, a growl that stuck to his mind, while the older man slowly let go of him. His face was expressionless, the anger suddenly gone, but instead of being soothed Mitch got even more scared.
He had to get away somehow. What about Jerome and Adam? Had they received his message yet? The last words he had written were about their current position, somewhere on the outskirts of Los Angeles, maybe-

He didn't even see the first punch coming.

Murphy's fist connected with his cheek and a sharp pain made him gasp, but before he had the chance to get away from the aggressive man another punch hit his stomach. The numbing pain spreading in his chest and his legs nearly made him collapse and he wasn't able to hold back a whimper, but Murphy grabbed his shoulders and pulled him up again to press him against the tree one more time. His strong arms pushed against his chest and Murphy was even closer than before.

"Please stop," Mitch whispered with a shaking voice and couldn't look away from the steely glance Murphy was throwing at him.

It was a bad dream. It had to be.
In a second he would wake up, save and sound in the Team Crafted house together with his friends. Everything would be alright. It would be fine. No Murphy.
Because if it wasn't a dream this probably would be the end of him, wouldn't it?

The fear froze his body and Mitch wasn't able to protect himself, as Murphy took another swing at him with his iron-like fist. It hit his face again, but this time the pain was even worse and for a moment he nearly blacked out. The throbbing in his head made him groan unconsciously, as Murphy pulled him up against the tree once more.

"I was so forgiving, Mitchell," Murphy whispered and Mitch screwed up his eyes to escape the nausea and the hateful expression on his boss' face. "I warned you countless times to back off and just go with it, but you are a little rebel, aren't you?"

He didn't dare to answer.
"Now you will get what you deserve."

Mitch was waiting for the next hit - but it didn't come. Instead Murphy let go of him without a word and Mitch slipped to the ground as his legs gave out. Slowly he glanced up. Murphy was pulling out his phone and then knelt in front of the silent Canadian, who was oblivious to his next step.

"Do you remember what I promised you, Mitchell?"
He stayed silent.
"I asked you a fucking question, boy!"

The calm, promising tone in his voice disappeared in the blink of an eye and suddenly the anger seemed to be back with full force. Mitch flinched heavily as Murphy raised his free hand, but instead of punching him again he forcefully pressed him sideways onto the ground. His head hit the asphalt and the ringing in his ears tuned out his own groan, while Murphy knelt over him to keep him from running away.

"Do you remember?"
Teasing. Not angry. Not furious. Just fucking teasing.

"No," he whimpered and hated himself for sounding so weak and defeated, but the will to go against Murphy and his schemes had been eliminated the second his boss had pushed him forcefully into the car.
"Then I'll make you remember," Murphy whispered and showed him the chosen name from the contact list on his phone. It was the name from his father's superior.

"No, please don't!" he screamed out loud and tried to push Murphy off of him, but the older man was too strong and heavy, so he easily kept Mitch on the ground. "I warned you over and over again about the consequences for your family. Now you have to live with the knowledge that you ruined their lives."
Even before he finished speaking, Murphy touched the screen of his phone and held it against his ear. With all his remaining energy Mitch begged his foe to give him one more chance and to keep his family out of it, he pleaded and stopped struggling, but Murphy simply pressed his free hand onto his mouth to silence him effectively.

"It's me, Tom. I'm calling you because of that favor you still owe me."
Mitch tried to scream to get the attention of his father's boss, but due to Murphy's hand it only came out as a muffled sound.

"Exactly. You remember the employee we talked about? …right, Hughes."
Murphy kept on talking with a gruesome grin on his lips, while watching Mitch in his helpless struggle until he stopped.

"Yes, it is worth it. I appreciate what you are doing for me, Dan."
It was hopeless, wasn't it? How could he ever protect his family, when he couldn't even protect himself from Murphy?

"Talk to him on Monday, it'll be soon enough. I'm not that heartless."
A cruel laugh, then Murphy grinned at Mitch and the tears running over his face.
He couldn't do anything.

His friends.
His family.
Mitch himself.

They were all doomed, because he had deemed it wise to fight against Murphy and to not ask for help when he had the chance to do so. He should have just gone to the police together with Jerome after his confession.
No… He should have never agreed to Murphy's plan in the first place.

But then so many things would have gone wrong, the team, his future, his friends…
He never would have made up with Adam.

They never would have kissed.

Mitch tried to suppress the butterflies in his stomach, but no matter how dire the situation was, the mere thought about it lifted the pressure on his chest a little bit. It was worth the beating, wasn't it? Did Murphy even know about the kiss between Adam and him in the club? He wasn't keen on finding that out any time soon and kept quiet, as Murphy ended the phone call and finally let go of him.

He stayed on the ground, afraid to raise Murphy's anger again, but his boss just knelt down by his side and whispered with an obsessive voice, "You got into a fight with someone in the club and they brought you here. I don't care how you get home, but if I hear you telling anyone about what really happened, everything you hold dear will go down thanks to yourself. Maybe now you are willing to understand that."
Then Murphy stood up and left.

He didn't know how much time had passed since the lights of the black sedan had disappeared from the abandoned parking lot, but the cold wind was soothing the wounds on his face and the occasional sound of a passing car on the road was lulling.

Nothing was important enough to disrupt the peaceful silence and Mitch bathed in the feeling of just being alone for a moment. No one threatening or bothering him. Just lying here and drifting off into the darkness at the edge of his consciousness was a bless compared to what he had experienced minutes, maybe even hours ago.

Unimportant.
No one cared anyway.

And so he continued to lie on the ground, until a car drove onto the parking lot and stopped not far away from him.
A door was opened. Footsteps. Another car passed them.

"Mitch!"
A desperate scream. A familiar one as well.

No one cared anyway.
Right?

"Oh shit- Mitch! Say something, please!"
The voice came closer, a trembling hand touched his shoulder and turned his cold body around. "Mitch?!"

Then everything went black.