Wrong Answer, Dumb-ass [ 1 ] (Thiam)

Chapter 035

Chills run up and down his arms as the wind howls through both the broken slates on the roof and into the cracks in the building's exterior caused by year's of neglect and harsh weather conditions.

The hoodie he wore that night does little against the cold chilling him to the bone, keeping his arms firmly crossed over his chest Liam continues to rock himself side-to-side in a desperate attempt to keep warm and awake, the rare few times he found himself asleep in the cold, damp brick room, he got awakened by either nightmares or her, the masterminds accomplice whose face he's yet to see, with no source of light in the room, minus the cracks and holes peaking through the walls seeing everything around him is harder then he expected, real life is nothing like the movies when somebody gets kidnapped, it's worse: the not knowing whether people were looking for because you won't 'accidentally' overhear anything on the radio, you don't hear the hushed whispers of your captures, you hear nothing like they're not even in the same building as you.

During his time locked up god knows where Liam's figured out a few things which make life slightly easier whilst blinded by the darkness; simply by crawling around on his hands and knees, the floor's mostly carpeted except for a large patch next to a piece of metal framework that he's still unsure about, by the gentle touch of his hands Liam knows that some pieces are jagged and sharp, whilst other pieces are seeming shaped liked spirals covering a vast majority of the object, he crawled around some more during his first few days here and discovered where exactly the door is, it's locked which is to be expected but the doorframe holding it in place isn't entirely solid, if he works away at it in between feeding times, Liam figures he may be able to at least get out of the room.

Wiping his tears away with the cuff of his hoodie, Liam tries to stop thinking about Melissa in her room distraught, holding a photo of him in her arms and crying, he tries not to think about Scott - Scott who gets so angry and upset when Liam drifts away from the path his older step-brother paved out for him, and his friends no doubt worried sick trying to do as much as they can, rubbing his eyes to rid them of tears, Liam begins crawling rarely over to when he knew the door sat, barely secured into the wall; splinters and other bits of wood protrude from his hand and without a light source, he's unable to remove them properly, feeling his way across the floor and to the door where he gingerly works his way up onto his feet, Liam painfully slides his fingers in between the doorframe and wall and starts pushing at the wood, listening for the cracking sound which means it's away from the wall. 

"Ip dip sky blue, oh what should I do?" Laughs the person on the other side of the door as the lock clicks loudly, signally it's once again time to eat, not that Liam enjoys any of the meals prepared for him: they're mostly all the same meals he hated as a young boy.

The smell of caramelised onion soup fills the room quickly, holding his nose with thumb and forefinger, Liam stays seated in the corner of the room close to the metal framework which sometimes creaks during the night - or whenever he tries to fall asleep because he has no real concept of time anymore, just that he gets fed three times a day with barely any water to keep his throat from scratching when he coughs, swallows or talks on the rare few occasions that they force him to interact with them.

"Gosh it's cold in here, but you already know that don't you?" They tease playfully dropping the tray on the floor, leaving it for Liam to find in the dark. "Enjoy your soup."

Some time passes by before Liam begins looking for the tray of soup, eating it cold makes it slightly more bearable for him to stomach, each movement is slow and calculated because if he knocks the soup over, he won't be eating again until whoever it is comes around with another tray, after a while of crawling around in the pitch black listening to his stomach growl hungrily Liam's fingers graze over a porcelain bowl with liquid just below the brim, holding the bowl carefully in his hands Liam brings the edge of the bowl to his lips and slowly drinks the broth, trying not to gag as the sloppy onion hits the back of his throat and slides down his throat slowly, as he swallows the soup Liam's mind starts wandering and he asks himself, 'how do these people know the exact meals I hate from when I was younger?"