Through the Wringer

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Henry whined a little. "What does... that mean?"
All the Macklemores exchanged glances, but said nothing. It's that thing. The thing adults do when they know you know less than they do. It got on Henry's nerves. He growled. "Well?!"
They still said nothing. Mack started the car and drove back to their hideout.

When they got back, Mackoy pulled Henry out of the van by the collar of his shirt. "Try to get up." he spat.
Henry made a confused, nervous noise. "What...?"
"Try to get up." Mackoy repeated.
Henry climbed to his feet, but was promptly pushed back down, roughly. "Hhh-?"
"You have to get up." Mackoy hissed. "Get up. Now."
Henry whined and climbed to his hands and knees, this time making himself steady by pushing his fingers into the ground.
Mackoy kicked his stomach, uprooting him and pushing him backwards. "Get UP, Henry!"
Henry fell back with a whimper. "I can't!"
"Then you're not ready." Macklemore said coldly. "Go home, kid."
"No! I-I can't go home!" Henry huffed.
"Why not?" Macklemore scoffed.
This time, Henry didn't answer. He just wanted to be with the Macklemores. That's all he wanted.
Macklemore scooped him up and ran off, the other Macklemores following closely.

~

After about 30 minutes of struggling, Macklemore had managed to tie Henry to a chair. "I'm sorry it has to be this way, kid." He sighed. "But we need to handle this."
Henry watched as they all shot him apologetic looks and then ran off. 

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