Camp Juvy ✓

Hunter | 31

"We know what we are, but not what we may be."

- William Shakespeare

HUNTER OPENED his eyes wearily. He could already feel his head pounding with pain, his face swollen from every punch it had taken. Hunter had always been ridden with fear; that was something Levi used to tease him about when they were younger. But now this fear drummed into him night and day – only festering and multiplying with every empty second he spent alone.

How long had he been here? Days? Months? Everything was so disorientating that he had no idea. The only light he ever saw was a crack in the roof; when it faded he knew the day was over. Other than that, no windows, no view of his surroundings. He could have been in another country for all he knew.

And it was terrifying.

The room was dirty: the walls peeling and dry, the floor merely a slab of concrete stained with splatters of his own blood and sick. Nothing about it was remotely interesting to look at. He had stared at it for so long that he was beginning to forget what his brother looked like. Perhaps he was going mad. Perhaps he'd die here, his corpse rotting on the dry ground, decomposing in the sheer heat.

The nights were always the worst. It would get cold, and he would curl up into a ball, trying to let the warmth circulate around his body. Shivering, he'd try to close his eyes and forget about everything, his face pressed against the concrete, his teeth chattering for hours.

In the day, when he was certain they weren't around, he'd take out Wrench's burner phone and play the snake game, over and over. He was probably one of the best in the world – his score was so high because he'd played it so often. Sometimes he would lose just to shake things around. And then he'd start all over again.

Hunter hadn't yet sent a text to the others because he knew that as soon as he did, his captors would find out. They had a built-in system to live track any out or in going phone calls, so that they could anticipate if the police were coming and know when Levi would arrive. They would never think to look for a phone on him because his was left at home, in the hands of his brother, just as they wanted it to be.

But today he was going to do it. He was going to send the text.

Fingers shaking, he typed the words, deciding that the blunt the better. They needed to know the truth – that everything had been a lie. They were not safe anymore.

The phone beeped, signalling that it had been sent.

And then several moments later as if on cue, someone swore loudly, the door to the room swinging wide open.

"What the fuck?" He spat, his voice dripping with disdain. Adam was a small, thin boy, rather gangly when he walked, as if his legs might break. His eyes were dark, hollow and gloomy, his cheekbones so sharp and angled that Hunter wondered if he ever ate anything. He wasn't strong, but he was certainly clever – and that was what was scary about him.

Adam had a serious vendetta, so serious that he had managed to plan everything to perfection. Every single thing except one. The text that Hunter had sent.

"A fucking phone? Are you fucking kidding me?" He ran towards Hunter, kicking him in the stomach so hard that Hunter slammed against the wall, the phone falling out from underneath him.

Adam picked it up and threw it onto the floor. It smashed into pieces, fragmenting like glass. "You know, I've been pretty good with you, Hunter. I've been feeding you, giving you water. I mean," He laughed humourlessly, his teeth yellowish and stained. "You fucking stink, so maybe I should have showered you, but then again, you treat me like this. You treat me like this! You have the fucking audacity to treat me the fuck like this."

He almost sang the words, walking on the tips of his toes from one side of the room to the other. Adam was mentally unstable, clearly; but he was a cunning actor. Only Hunter had been able to see what he was really like – he'd been able to fool everyone else.

"Darren!" He shouted, clapping his hands. His body had paused, and for a moment, he smiled at Hunter, tight lipped and chilling. Darren walked into the room, his eyes trained on Adam, not even acknowledging Hunter's presence. Ever since the capture, he'd not spoken a word – he seemed just as heartless and cruel as Adam, bigger and taller but with even less personality. Darren passed Adam something metal and heavy. As Adam stared at it and shooed him away, he dangled it on one finger, letting Hunter see what it really was.

A gun. Adam had a gun.

"Why'd you do it then, Hunter boy?" He asked. His voice sent shivers down Hunter's spine.

Hunter cleared his throat, his voice hoarse. He hadn't spoken in such a long time that the sensation of it felt unfamiliar and strange. "Because they need to stay away from this shit hole."

Adam flinched at his words. "You really think they're gonna stay away and leave you here? You think Levi is really going to do that? Well. Then you're a fucking idiot, aren't you."

Staring down at the floor by his feet, deep down Hunter knew those words were right. Levi would never leave him alone, and as comforting as that was, it was a death sentence.

But a pointless death sentence.

Levi wasn't even the gold in all of this. He wasn't what Adam wanted. He was just one very important pawn in the game.

Adam cocked the gun, aiming it at Hunter with a sneer on his face. He never told Hunter why he was so dead set on revenge. Hunter imagined it was something big, but he also knew that Adam was so precise and spiteful that it could've been from years and years ago.

Who knew if Iris would even remember what it was.

"You know why they call me Sniper?" Adam asked, his voice ringing in Hunter's ears. The gun was pointed at him, aimed with every intent to get what it wanted. "You know why Hunter?"

Hunter's lips trembled. He was too afraid to open his mouth and utter the words.

"Because I'm good with a gun." 

Then, with a pull, a release, and nothing in between, Sniper fired.

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AUTHORS NOTE: 

<3