A Brother's Keeper

Chapter Two

The morning of Curly's kidnap
...
Curly awoke to the sound of nothing. Shivering in the dark, his mind scrambled to find the missing pieces his memory was lacking.

Nothing could prepare him for this.

He was lost, he didn't know what to do or where he was. All he wanted was to break free from the threads that would confine him in one spot.

Laying down on the hard pavement-like floor, confusion would invade his mind as his breath hitched with every single thought processed throughout his head.

He could feel his wrists and ankles bound tightly together with a itchy, prickled rope.

As Curly squirmed around in misery, the rope against his wrists made a burning sensation which slithered its way against his sensitive skin.

He could smell the musty odor of old wood and the sour scent of his own sweat. As he squirmed around once again, ignoring the cries of his irritated rope-burn skin. He could hear the sound of his own breathing, as well as the creaking of the old wooden floorboards beneath him.

It took him forever to realize that he was blindfolded, and the darkness was absolute. He could hear the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears, and the sound of his own breathing was loud and ragged.

Struggling to recollect the every detail of what happened, pain smeared within his chest without any warning.

The smallest creaks of the wooden floor made it almost impossible to concentrate. With every sudden movement he would make, the sounds of his own  bones cracking and jointing formed a lump in his throat.

Small noises sounded like loud, obnoxious percussionists that stabbed Curly's eardrums.

There had to be a way out. He couldn't handle the dark. He couldn't handle the noises.

Curly's heart ached for his brother, Tim Shepard. He longed for his comforting presence and the sound of his voice. Tim was always there for him, no matter what. He was the strongest, smartest, and toughest person Curly knew.

Sore from the bruises, he tried his best to sit up in the dark, listening to the creaks of the wooden floor and the sounds of his own bones cracking, Curly's mind drifted to his brother. He thought about all the times Tim had protected him, fought for him, and supported him.

Curly knew he could never be like Tim. He was too afraid of the dark, too sensitive to the sounds, too weak to protect himself. But he also knew that he would do anything for his brother. He would always be there for him, just like Tim had always been there for him.

The thought of his brother filled Curly with both comfort and sadness. He wanted Tim to be here with him, to help him through this. But he also knew that Tim would want him to be strong, to fight through his fear and anger.

Curly's fear turned to anger and felt the heat rising in his blood. He knew he had to plot his revenge on the man who had done this to him. But he also knew that he couldn't do it alone. He needed his brother's help, his brother's strength, his brother's love.

As he felt warm tears down his face, Curly felt a wave of self-hatred wash over him. How had he gotten himself into this situation? He had always imagined himself as strong and capable, but now he was starting to believe every negative comment that had ever been said to him.

He couldn't help but wonder how his mom or stepfather would react when they found out he had been kidnapped. Would they be upset? Emotional? Would they do everything in their power to get him back?