The Plot Thickens

What Could Have Been.

"Stop pretending like this wasn't your fault!" He shouted, pacing back and forth across the hall. He was biting his finger nails, a nervous habit he had picked up.

"There was nothing I could have done. You know that damn well, asshole!" Doodle sat dormant on a stool, his hands resting behind his neck, and his feet tapping nervously on the hardwood floor beneath him. "It's been apparent for a long while we weren't fit for them."

"And yet, it was you who advocated so heavily for kids. 'It would be fun,' you said, 'We can handle it.' Maybe I could have. Maybe if you weren't so neglectful!" At this point, he had stopped pacing and took a small step towards Doodle, there eyes glaring at each other. The tension in the room was rising.

Now stood up, Doodle stepped forward to match him, staring up at the tall man. "You can't be serious. Your sorry ass were so much less to those children than I was. If anyone should be at fault, it should be you."

"What kind of fantasy world are you living in? You dropped out of high school, and for what? To work a low-paying office job and to be a terrible role model for your children? You're pathetic," and before Doodle could get out another word, he was gone, slamming the door behind him.

The slam echoed through his ears, causing his eyes to quickly snap open. He was alone. Empty concrete walls was all that was around him. He only now noticed his appendages were tied, and his mouth gagged. He struggled to get out any sort of scream, but to no avail. No one could hear him in there.

It was only after his fruitless attempt at a yell that he noticed: he was not alone in the room. To his left sat a familiar looking boy, sitting cross-legged, and simply staring. His white surgical mask was ever so apparent in the dark room.

"Good morning," the boy said, his subtle taps on the concrete floor much more noticeable in the unerring silence of the room. "Sleep well?"

He obviously was not expecting a reply, that was apparent. He was being taunted. The bastard.

The seemingly unending silence of the room only made Doodle's anxiety rise. He tried desperately to break free of his confinement, flailing and shouting. He could only hope his muffled screams could be heard from out there; wherever "out there" really was.

"Stop struggling. You're only making it more difficult for the both of us," he stated, so softly that Doodle could barely hear him, even in the silence of the room. "We won't kill you. We still need you."

But who was we? Did that include the two foreign boys? Or another group altogether. He was starting to get a headache because of the horrid situation he had gotten himself into.

His headache cleared quickly when he heard the creak of the metal door opening. A tiny, recognizable boy walked into the room, holding in both hands a small tablet. It was Amrogus boy.