Find me.

Chapter 1

Image: Brandon as Nick Bateman

CHAPTER ONE

Her body hit the ground like a pound of cement while blood gushed out of the new wound created, the world around him spun, as if he had taken some sort of powerful drug. The shock hit him like a brick wall as he watched her breath hitch in pain and the struggle to keep her oxygen in a steady flow. The ropes keeping him in place tore at the flesh on his wrist, cutting deeper and deeper, inching closer and closer to the bone. Screams echoed through the long, narrow halls.

He refused to let these criminal bastards see his tears, he refused to let them know she was one of his only weaknesses. The men stood around the room, tormenting him, desperate to see his emotions.

He glared at each and every one of them, hoping their dreams would be full of nightmarish images, hoping they'd toss and turn whilst trying to distract their minds to more pleasurable sights. He was determined to get out of this rackety old chair. He had to admit though, it looked much weaker than it actually was at first, second and third glance. Scratch that, it looks weaker in every glance.

"Quit the struggling, Brandon."

He snarled at the low voice that came from behind him. He knew what he was trying to achieve by approaching him from behind; he was trying to make his torture more intense, trying to make the illusion of surprise, but everyone knew that the only person that could really only create that affect was their father. (A/N: The "nappers" are not related to Brandon in anyway)

"You didn't have to take her life, she was innocent in all of this," he was quite surprised that his voice wasn't weak, kind of like the chair under his soon-to-be-dead body, "she didn't deserve it."

Laughs filled the room at his pathetic attempt to make him feel guilty. Each man sobered up after a small while and soon the room had grown to be silent yet again.

"How else was I supposed to stop a man like yourself?"

He didn't know if he was meant to take that statement as a compliment or as an insult. The feet of one of the men shifting made him look up, interrupting him from deciding whether it was an insult or not.

The ropes that were once around his wrist dropped to the ground, barely making a sound. What the-? Confusion flood his mind and he found himself stuck for words. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do?

"I suggest you head out, Brandon, don't want your little Lucas in danger now, do we?"

He was still in shock. His body had refused to move, making all the men stare at him. He honestly didn't even care. That was until his brain had registered that he was threatening to hurt the only thing Brandon had left.

He shot up from the wooden chair and traveled down the narrow halls as fast as his sore, stiff legs could take him. He had stumbled over a few times, causing grazes to appear on his legs, but he just had one thing on his mind; poor, innocent Lucas. He was only 13 years old, he's just too important to be taken from him.

Alas, the light had appeared far ahead of Brandon. His pace increased as he got closer and closer to the door. He shoved it open, only to be greeted by a long, almost infinite, amount of stairs.

After what had felt like hours, he had finally arrived at the top of the staircase. Using the little energy he had left, he clambered into a nearby car, reaching under the steering wheel and ripping off the cover. The wires in this car were already hot-wired though... That's weird... he thought.

The car rumbled as he sped away from the old warehouse, he had no idea where Anastasia had enrolled Lucas, so he sped to the nearest school, cut the engine and ran into the administration. Brandon continued this process for exactly 34 minutes before he had eventually found the correct school.

Brandon ran into the class that he was assigned in for the hour. Every head turned to him, relief had flooded into him as Lucas' face made an appearance. Murmurs filled the room as he realized he probably looked like he had just come back from hell; covered in blood, ripped up clothes and sweat covering his forehead.

"Can I help you?" Brandon turned to see a lady with a blue, knee-length dress on, long brown hair and green eyes waiting for an answer.

"Uh, can I please talk to Lucas?" he asked, "It's a family matter." After everyone gave Lucas a curious glance, the teacher dismissed him. Brandon found himself lost for words for the second time today. How was he going to tell Lucas that he doesn't have a mother to go home to tonight?

"Um, dad?" Lucas' voice was laced with concern and confusion, "Is everything okay?" He sat patiently for a while, waiting for Brandon's pathetic self to tell him what was wrong.

"Your mother, Lucas," he started, a sob strangling my voice, "sh-she was" another strangled sob came from the back of his throat, "Your mother was shot."

The silence was deafening as Brandon waited for him to make an acceptable reply. "You're joking..." he started, "right?" His voice was incredibly quiet from his normal, bubbly voice. His brown eyes, glazed over in pain, begged Brandon to tell him that his mother was okay.

Brandon didn't realize he was not paying attention to the situation until a small tear made a streak down Lucas' face. He shifted my gaze from the trees behind him to focus on the small stream. A horrible feeling flooded throughout the bottom of his gut and started making its way up and into his chest.

"C'mon," Brandon started, shifting my feet as he got up, "I'll take us home and let this sink in."

He ignored his statement, getting up and grabbing his bag. He knew he was full of shock, but it wouldn't be long before he would be bawling his eyes out and screaming at him for not saving his mother.

Okay guys, so that was chapter one, I will try my very best to update frequently and I am hoping you guys will love the story.