10 Minute Tales

May 4 - Hostage

"It's the third day!" she exclaimed, exasperated. The husband grunted, disinterested. "You know it's not safe for him out there!"

"What d'you want me to do about it?" he almost growled at her, downing another mouthful of beer. "Ain't nothin' I can do about it."

"You could care!" she objected, frustrated. "I... he's our son! Why don't you care?"

"The damn boy ran off all on his own, he can come back all his own too."

"What are you saying? He... he needs us!"

"Ain't what I heard him say."

"He doesn't understand!" She marched towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked.

"Guess!" she snapped, slamming the door shut behind her.  He would be found. She knew he needed her. The streets of this city were no place for a boy as young as he was in the sunlight, let alone the dark. She sighed as she looked around, bringing her phone out and calling him again. Nothing. She grunted in frustration and threw it into her bag again. "Okay, think..." she sighed. "Stephen loves playing his games... would he have gone to Matthew's house...?" she walked faster, heels clicking against the pavement. The sky's overcast hue rumbled, a pressure in the air giving her a headache as she marched the desperate march of a determined commander leading an army to war. Matthew's house wasn't too far, surely he could offer-

"Hey, pretty lady!" a voice called out, one she didn't recognise. She didn't slow down, barely noticing the call. She did, however, notice the second step in front. This was a lanky man, one that grinned at her. She stepped to one side but he blocked the way too, casually drawing a knife out of his pocket. The presence of this steel stopped her.

"I... I just want to go past, my son, he's..."

"Aw, missin' your son?" the second man grinned. "Does 'e look anythin' like that?" he gestured lazily behind the woman. She turned, and gasped. There was a stout, fat man, grinning toothily. In his hands, though, was the neck of her son!

"L-let him go!" she begged, taking a step forward. She would have taken another, were it not for a greasy hand grabbing her wrist.

"Can't do that just yet." he grinned, yanking her hand behind her. "See, the kid 'ere has seen somethin' we were rather hopin' he wouldn't."

"Wh-whatever it was, I promise, he won't tell anybody..."

"'ey, Richie, ever hear 'bout that mother that raised her kids wrong?"

"Yeah, the ones that broke into someone's house, right? Ate everythin' in sight?"

"Yeah. Little Hansel 'ere has wandered into the wrong fuckin' house, and now we're gonna have to... show 'im the way out." the shorter thug revealed another knife, holding it to the child's throat.

"Don't hurt him, please!" she begged, almost sobbing now.

"Woman, if y' want your son to be alright, hand your purse over. Don't make a fuss."

"O-okay, just... please..." she didn't want to do this. So much of what she had, what her good-for-nothing husband depended on, laid hidden in that purse, but she was willing to sacrifice it all for her son.