Kidnapping Me

A Letter Home

Grace

The television flickered, the voice of the news reader fuzzing for a moment, before it settled into a low, monotone sound.

"Police and fireman were called into Brisbane's industrial area today after a large abandonded warehouse, that was schedualed to be demolished next week, caught on fire. The fire tore through the building, turning into a blazing inferno. Firemen did all they could to contain the blaze, but they could not doing anything else besides sit back and wait for it to burn out. When it did, they made a greusome discovery. For more details, we are crossing LIVE to Jane Melone...

Jane?"

"Hi Mike," Jane turned and the camera panned out, revealing the rubble beind her. "When emergency services were called to the scean, they simply expected foul play at the hands of teenagers, but as the smoke cleared and the fire died down they discovered the bodies of around fifteen people in the rubble. Amoungst them was known Identity Theft Amon Peters, who was identified by local Police. The rest of the bodies are being sent to the morgue, where they will finally be ID'ed then burried by family members. It is unknown why the people were inside the building at this time and all evidence that could connect them to a string of murders and Identitfy Thefts has been consumed by the fire." 

Jane was handed something by an off screen figure and she quickly skimmed the details as her eyes widened. "Oh, breaking news here Mike. It appears that while searching the wreckage the body of local missing person, Grace Johnson, heir to Martain Industries has been found. The message has already been sent to her greiving Father, who, along with her sister Penny, will be attending the morgue to formally ID the body. This fire has truly been a devestating crime and will leave a huge hole in the hearts of our community."

I turned the TV off, the feeling of emptiness and a crushing depression settling in around me again. In this house of silence. I had no idea where we were, in some little hick town off the M1, I think. But it didn't matter where we went because there would always be this hole in our group, this hole where Amon should have been.

Greyson slipped into the room, looking worse than I did, but better than Benny. He sunk down on the couch beside me and slipped his arms around my waist, pulling me into his chest. Since the warehouse, he's been relucant to even let him out of my sight for more than a few minutes.

"How is he?" I whispered, my voice cracking.

My scars were healing nicely, no infection had settled in, and the only wound that would probably remain obvious was the crack in my voice from when Marco strangled me. Even as I thought of this the image of him snapping Amon's neck popped into my mind. I had not been entirley concious at the time, but the one snippet I seem to be able to conjour is the sound of Amon's neck breaking- a high pitched crunch, like a large twig being stepped on. I'm not even sure the images that follow it are real or something that my brain has just conjoured up to feel in the blanks I've been drawing.

Greyson pressed his lips to the back of my head, sighing. "Not good. I finally got him to go to sleep- he's had way over the proper limit of painkillers."

I nodded, feeling slightly better as the heat off Greyson's body warmed me. "I was watching the news." Greyson nodded, waiting for me to explain. "They found the warehouse, it was burnt down." I shifted to look up at him. "Did you do that?"

He held my gaze, not even needing to nod to confirm it.

"Why?"

He looke over my head then. "Because it was easier, this way. No evidence to link us to being there. They won't come looking for us now. Or you."