Silence | Book 2

3-3: Captive [M-G]

9th of August, 2006

The loud, deep whirring of mechanical fans droned in his head. In the pitch black, windowless room he had no clue what time it was, but he knew he was tired. He'd been there a while. The room was hot and sweltering, his clothes drenched and uncomfortable. Heavy ropes kept his ankles and wrists tied together so he could only crawl and twist like a captured animal.

The stench was the worst: of sweat and urine, of rust and chemicals and damp concrete walls. It was gross and he couldn't escape it, the strip of cloth in his mouth forcing him to breathe through his nose. So he'd crawled his way into the corner with great difficulty. Confused, tired and alone.

As he heard a scream he tried to huddle up more, not even sure if he had really heard it over how loud the machines were, or if he simply knew. It hurt deep in his chest, as if his own body tried to share Hayate's pain. He was so scared, choking on his own muffled cries as he knew the one person closest to him in the entire world was hurt in ways he couldn't comprehend.

The world had been told to him as nice, and kind, and happy. Where he had everything he could ever need or want; his toys, his parents, and his big brother whom had only ever been separate from him by virtue of being a few minutes older. It had been perfect.

Why? Why is this happening. I don't get it... please... someone save us. Why haven't they saved us yet?

The door flung open, and for just a second he wanted to believe someone had finally come to rescue him – like he did every time, and every time he was wrong. His eyes widened when he saw two men drag Hayate in; bound, blindfolded, gagged and naked yet still struggling against his captors. Several dark bruises were illuminated by the fluorescent light from the hallway. Without a shred of care he was thrown into a corner, and left there whimpering.

A third man pushed past his two henchmen, his gaze fixated on Hibiki. A familiar snake tattoo poking up from underneath their shirt. A smile slowly spread on the man's face, as if the things he was thinking of brought him great joy.

「It's your turn, quiet boy.」

His eyes widened, panicked, terrified of what that would mean. With muffled sobs he tried to beg for Hayate to help him, like he always had whenever something bad happened. But despite his brother's best efforts, pulling and squirming against the restraints, there was nothing he could do.

The two men stepped inside and grabbed Hibiki, dragging him away by his arms. Unlike Hayate he couldn't find it in him to scream, too afraid to do anything. Instead he froze up, letting out soft, muffled sobs as the harsh grip bruised him.

The two men pushed him against a concrete wall. A blindfold was put tight around his head. He couldn't see anything, only faint silhouettes in the light. Footsteps got closer to him, and before he could respond, a hand pulled him back by his hair. His cries were contained by the cloth in his mouth, little more than pathetic noises. The searing, ashy breath of his captor hit the side of his face, as he spoke without compassion.

「I tried to explain to your brother, but he wouldn't listen. Maybe you understand better, quiet boy.」

Something cold and pointy was pushed against his cheek. Startled he tried to move away, but the grip on his hair was too strong. A quivering breath escaped him, pleading without words. His whole body trembled in fear.

「You see, the world is all about business. About owning, and being owned. Anything can be owned. Money, houses, pets... little quiet boys, if you know how to take them.」

The cold and pointy thing left his cheek. Instead he heard the sudden tearing and felt the tugging at the back of his shirt as the knife cut through it. His last reminder of home destroyed, ripped off of him while he cried.