Under normal circumstances he would speak his mind, but, with a gun against his head, that wasn't a possibility.
Worst. Day. Ever.
Jake really shouldn't have tried to return that stupid dog his sister picked up somewhere in the outer districts. She had bawled for the entire walk back to their shambling house as he huffed and grasped the mongrel to his chest, keeping it out of the ten year old's reach.
"We can't keep a dog, Sophie. Mom doesn't have the time to watch a pet and clean and work on the neighbor's laundry and make sure we have enough money to travel to the Square on Thursday." He had been adamant on his points, and they were all valid, but he couldn't crush the nagging guilt conjured by the action of keeping the squirming puppy from his younger sister. Now he knew what that awful feeling really had been. Fear. Oh, gosh, it was most definitely fear.
He had found the address scrawled onto the leather of the dog's worn, leather collar, and knocked on the door, only to be hit in the head and tied to a chair. A blindfold covered Jake's eyes, and he couldn't muffle the near silent moan of pain that had alerted his kidnapper to his awakened state.
"Where's your daddy, kid?"
Jake could smell the tang of soured alcohol on the man's breath, causing him to cringe, nose wrinkling in distaste.
"Don't have one," he spat at the guy, and the cold metal of the weapon was denting his temple, there was so much pressure.
Jake's captor made a hawking, retching noise, and a glob of spittle splattered against the boy's left cheek, slipping down in a sluggish path. The restrained teen gagged at the feeling, making a dark chuckle ring through the room.
"You must know, kiddo. We need the old man."
