885 Days [A Vikklan/Sidemen/Pack Story]

Day 182: Josh

21 September 2015

The last few weeks had been... rough. All of us had been slowly getting back into our routine, recording and editing and attempting to make something of our group, the Sidemen, while we could. It was difficult given Vikk was still heartbroken and was struggling as it was, but after a month or two of weekly, irl videos he seemed to be looking forward to those recording sessions.

So there were those recording sessions, and we were moving house. I was so thankful for Rob, Mitch, Jerome and Preston being there because at this point they essentially lived with us as well but out of suitcases, and they did as much as they could to help us. Preston helped me out quite a lot with my own stuff but the timing honestly couldn't have been worse. Our last night in that house was Lachlan's birthday and it was incredibly painful for everyone.

That last night the eleven of us, all members of the Sidemen and all members of the Pack still around, gathered in the empty living room and held a strange sort of vigil. There were candles and photographs and a lot of crying while we all sat in a circle and shared our best memories of the missing boy, each of us taking a moment to wish the boy a happy birthday. If he was still out there he was 20 now. We all slept in the living room that night, watching the flickering candles burn themselves out until we were plunged into darkness. I don't think anyone truly slept at all because everyone was sluggish and exhausted the next morning, moving the last precious few items to the new house.

The new house was nice, much larger than the last one. The rooms were huge, it was fancy and probably far more than we needed, but it actually allowed the eleven of us to live together on and off. JJ, Simon, Vikk, Tobi and I all had our own rooms and setups in each of those rooms. Mitch and Jerome shared, and Preston and Rob shared. Ethan and Harry shared the only other spare room on and off as they still lived in their own apartments.

Vikk was thankfully sleeping through the night now, alone, but Tobi still moved in with us just in case. He had taken on a brotherly, or maybe even fatherly, role with Vikk, as had Rob, and between the two of them they helped him get back into a routine and finally- finally- got him into therapy to help him cope. I was seeing improvements, but I doubt he would truly ever heal unless we got closure.

Our group, the Sidemen, exploded in popularity soon after we began the weekly videos. The Pack boys tended to help out behind the camera and I don't think our audience even knew they lived with us, but their own YouTube careers were spotty, broken up with bursts of videos and then weeks of nothing, and both Rob and Preston were focused more on running their Minecraft servers than making videos. All of them, Vikk included, associated recording with Lachlan and I think it was just too difficult for them.

Two weeks into our time at the new house, everything was quiet. All four Pack boys, minus Vikk, were back in America or Canada until they could renew their visas- they were all looking at getting dual citizenships- and most of the others were asleep. Harry and Ethan were at their own apartments.

Sighing heavily, I leaned back in my chair. I was meant to be recording but I couldn't get into it this late at night, not when my only thoughts were for someone. Someone who I prayed about everyday, someone who I waited for updates on every week. But there was never anything. Whether Lachlan was alive or not haunted me. I just wanted to know if he was okay.

Despite knowing it would make me feel worse, I went to Lachlan's Instagram and scrolled through his latest photos- well, the photos that had been posted over 6 months ago. We were only a few days after from marking half a year. There was him with an adorable husky dog, and so many group photos from the Pack trip to Ireland. It pained me to know they had been together and happy just days before our world fell apart. Following that it was photos of him in America, more group shots, food and selfies, family photos. Just a normal Instagram of a happy guy with his friends.

But before all that, there was nothing. 6 months of no pictures, no tweets, no videos. Nothing. The last video on his channel was the one the Pack boys filmed begging his audience to help them find him, and then nothing. The Pack boys YouTube channels, other than Vikk's, hadn't had much posted either. A couple of videos then weeks of nothing. They simply couldn't get back into it.

That night I went through several dozen of Lachlan's videos, watching them and just reminiscing about the good times. I might not have known the boy well but god, he was Vikk's closest friend outside of us and I knew he was one of the brightest, funniest, most bubbly people you could ever meet.

God, why couldn't he just come back?

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Vikk crept into my room later that night, just as I wrapped up another of Lachlan's videos, and froze when he saw what was on my screen. He had a blanket pulled tight around his shoulders and he was physically trembling, shoulders shaking.

"Josh?" He whispered, voice high.

"Hey Vikk, what's up?" I held out my arms for him to fall into and he did so, burying himself in my chest. "Can't sleep, huh?"

"No." He squeaked. "Why're you watching Lachy's videos?"

"Just for comfort, really." I said, pulling him into my lap. "I miss him. I might not have known him that well but god, I just... I miss him."

He sniffled a bit and looked back at the screen, where Lachlan's face was frozen in a grin.

"I miss him too." He breathed. "I just want to know if he's okay."

184: Lachlan

Half a year. He bragged about that, too. 6 whole months in a dingy concrete box, begging for someone to find me, although I didn't really believe it would ever happen now. In the time in between his visits it was all I could do but to lie on the floor and hope I would be found but that little bubble of hope had long since been popped. I knew that if I ever did get out, if ever, nothing would ever be the same. My sight had faded, I couldn't stand or walk. My body was scarred and bruised.

A shudder ran through me. There had been some improvements made, a mattress to lie on which felt like heaven after months of concrete, but the chains were a constant. Chains, a collar, a gag. Silenced and completely immobile I lay in the dark, constantly hungry and thirsty while I waited for him to return. It was getting more frequent, more violent, as time passed.

I think my birthday must have passed. It had been six months, which meant I was 20. What a way to spend what should have been one of the happiest day- alone, scared and broken.