CHAPTER 8: Mentality

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Wesley was led to a new room, perhaps in a different building, that part he wasn’t sure about. It was really starting to get annoying, not knowing. Still, with nothing to do about it, he followed through. This was room was more well lit and a wooden chair sat in the middle.

“You will pay for what you did earlier,” Jason growled as they strapped Wesley’s arms and legs to the chair. “But you won’t know when! We’ll surprise you! Storm right through that door,” he motioned behind him before laughing. The chair was suddenly yanked back on its back legs and Wes was looking straight up at the ceiling and the light on it. The men all filed out, leaving Wes to himself.

He tried to push the chair forward but it wouldn’t budge. His arms and legs were also very secure. He huffed before closing his eyes, urging his body to relax. It was nearly impossible. The light was far too bright and in his face. His breathing became fast and hard. He could physically feel his heart beginning to beat rapidly and sweat formed on his forward.

“100…99…98…97…96…” he began, trying to calm himself anyway possible. He tried to picture the light as a spotlight as if he were on stage. He quietly began singing, no song in particular. He tried to picture the fans screaming his name. It worked for a bit before he once more became mentally aware of his situation.

His wrists felt raw, the pain from the fight had settled, and his tongue was becoming unnaturally dry. He started to panic, what if he dehydrated? Would this be the end? Had he fought so long to only die from a lack of water? He tried to bring himself together. He hadn’t been he that long already had he? No, certainly not long enough to dry up like a grape in the desert. But did the light have any effect on him? Fuck, why hadn’t he paid more attention in Health class at school?

A sudden, fierce jiggle of the door handle snapped him to attention. This must be the punishment Jason was talking about. Wes waited, biting his lip, concentrating on the door handle noise. Than, it stopped. No one had come in and it was silent once more. The silence was deafening and Wes could slowly feel himself going crazy.

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Drew jumped out the car before it had hardly stopped, earning a look from Lorenzo, not that he cared even the slightest. He hopped foot to foot as the detective seemed to be taking his good ole time making it to the front door. “Seriously, could you be any slower?!” Drew whipped the door open and let him go in first.

“Hi, Detective Lorenzo,” he said, showing the girl at the front desk his badge. “We’re here on the Wesley Stromberg case, have you heard of it?”

She thought for a second. “Was that the one with the missing singer?”

“That’d be it, ma’am. A clue seems to have pointed us here, were there maybe any packages dropped off that may be unnamed or something of the sort?”

“I could check the back but we don’t typically get packages here, I’m sure I would’ve been told if we had one.” She left to check, leaving the antsy two to stand there.

“Com’on Wesley!” They heard a voice behind them. They turned around to see a taller gentleman, wearing the same shirt the girl had been wearing walking a Doberman on a leash.

“Wait, what did you just call him?” Drew asked, getting the man’s attention.

“Wesley, you looking to adopt?” He smiled, picking up the dog.

The two looked at each other. “No, could you show us the information on him though?”

“We’re not exactly allowed to do that…”

“We’re looking for a missing boy, we could come back later with a warrant, but that is wasting some serious time,” Lorenzo replied, pulling out his badge once more. The man nodded and went behind the desk, beginning to type away.

“Hey, Wes,” Drew sighed, getting down and petting the dog, sighing.

“Drew you might want to come see this,” Lorenzo announced as he read over the computer.

Drew scanned the monitor, making sure to read each part carefully. To be honest, it actually freaked him out a bit. The dog’s previous address read Wesley’s current address and the phone number was Keaton’s. In fact, the only thing that didn’t match someone from the band was the last employment of the previous owner, there it said 98.6 Radio Station. “That’s where we did the radio show, hours before the ambush!” Drew said excitedly.

“Thanks for your help,” Lorenzo nodded before they rushed back out to the car, Lorenzo communicating to the other officers through the walkie.

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He slightly stirred, listening to his breathing for a few seconds.

In….

Out…

In….

It seemed slower than usual. Everything was pitch black and he couldn’t remember what was going on. He didn’t have enough energy though to think about it so he just stopped. He listened carefully, instead. He thought he could just make out guitar strings and Drew singing gently but before he could be sure, he knocked out again.

A few hours later, he felt his body twitch a bit. Slowly, he tried to move his toes, they seemed okay. He tried his hands next, they were tingly, as if they had been asleep but they too felt okay. He tried to open his eyes, noting how stuck they seemed to be. He was met by a brightly lit hospital room. Confused and still dazed, he looked around. He couldn’t lift his head, feeling uncomfortable with the huge lack of energy he seemed to have. He caught sight of Laraine at his side.

She was leaning on her arm, a book face down on her lap as though she dropped it. She was sleeping but holding his hand. He concentrated hard on his hand, urging it to move. His thumb weakly rubbed his mom’s fingers and he gave a light squeeze, praying it’d be enough. He tried to call out to her but his throat hurt incredibly bad and he couldn’t push any sound out. He wanted to scream, to cry. What was going on? Where was he? Why? His frustration gave him enough energy to squeeze again, a bit tighter this time. Laraine jolted slightly, it worked!

She turned around slowly and jumped to her feet. There was her beautiful baby, eyes open, trying to smiling. She grabbed her face as joyous tears began to fall. She ran to the door. “Nurse!! Nurse!! Keaton is awake!!”

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