Stitches ~ Scömìche

Tripping over Myself

"Scott!" Mitch felt the scream tear through him as the man he loved hit the ground, blood pouring out from the bloody hole in his arm. Mitch tried to rush to Scott, but a hard grip on his arm kept him captive. Mitch clawed at Abe, but Abe ignored his efforts and dragged him out of the building. His last sight of Scott was him lying on the ground, clutching at his arm.

"Let me go!" Mitch screamed, trying to tear himself away from Abe, anything to get back to Scott. 

"This will a lot easier Princess if you just shut up," Abe grunted, and tightened his grip on Mitch. He was being dragged at his point, not even his stumbling feet could keep up. 

"Just let me go to him! Please, you promised he wouldn't be hurt! You have to let me help him!" Mitch sobbed, pulling weakly at Abe.

"The cops will take care of him, and us if we stay for too long."

"Please..." Mitch begged and Abe yanked open the car door and attached his hand to the handcuff that was attached in turn to the front seat of the car. Abe shoved the smaller man into the car before slamming the car door and getting into the driver's seat. He then turned around pressed a rag to Mitch's sobbing face. Mitch struggled, but Abe held his head firmly in place and soon Mitch felt the world around him going dark. 

~*~

Scott couldn't move his right hand. The doctors asked him to calm down as the helped into a stretcher, but he couldn't calm down. The man he loved was just torn away from him, again. He needed Mitch. He needed Mitch back. And if the only way to do that would be to kill Abe he would gladly do that. He just needed him back. The world darkened around him and Scott closed his eyes, listening to the pull of sleep. 

~*~

Mitch woke up in a cement room. A familiar cement room. A very familiar cement room, paint and everything. How did he get here so fast?

~*~

Scott woke up in a white room, his arm wrapped in white gauze. Someone stepped into the room and Scott looked up at them.

"Scott? I'm Detective Adams, I'm here to help you," The person said. 

"Where's Mitch?" He demanded.

"Mitch?" The detective echoed, obviously confused. "Who's Mitch?" 

"Mitch Grassi," Scott clarified, his patience growing thin. 

"The kidnapping victim from America?"

"Where is he!" Scott roared. 

"Calm down, Mr. Hoying, I am here to help you. Do you know who shot you?"

"He took Mitch," Scott realized again. "Where is he? I'm going to kill him!"

"Mr. Hoying, please, I need you to calm down. Who is he?" 

"Abe! Abe took him and then he shot me! Where are they? I need Mitch back!"

"Abe? Abe who?" Adams questioned. Scott broke down in tears at this point, too tired to be angry.

"I don't know, Mitchie just called him Abe..."

"Alright Scott, I need you to recount everything." Scott nodded and began to speak.