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I've taken a break from singing because it feels like no one is listening. I wonder if Donovan has forgotten that I'm even here, I think he has, so what’s the point in continuing?

Is he doing this just to annoy me? Does leaving me here like this do something for him? The asshole that he is, is probably doing all this on purpose, making me wait like a cunt.

I’m certain he has forgotten about me, for fuck’s sake. I had to take a piss in the corner, and now the fucking place stinks. Animals get treated better than I do, but then again, in his eyes, I am one.

Sometimes, I think I hear people talking outside the van, but it quickly disappears. Is he doing this to drive me crazy? Or is he giving me a taste of my own medicine for leaving Raine in the storage container? That thought makes me think: I wonder if he found her, he must have by now, otherwise he would be in here screaming the place down.

“Take him out, tie him up, tight.” Oooh voices, let the fun begin.

Two big bulldog looking fuckers swing the door open and drag me out. I don’t fight them at this point, I want them to think they are getting the upper hand. I scan my surroundings silently, calculating a way out, as I try to pinpoint the exits. There is a heavy wooden door behind the men, and a small window high up on the wall.

I’m lost in thought, when the bull dogs’ ridiculous voices disrupt my focus, pulling me back into the present. What are they being so loud about? I turn my gaze to them, giving a disapproving glare that I hope shows my annoyance. They are locked in a stupid argument, something about mayo or miracle whip in a sandwich, seriously? Rolling my eyes, I take a mental note. If these are the type of people Donovan employs, that argue over condiments of all things, I have nothing to worry about. Their bickering reveals a certain level of incompetence that I find reassuring.

I scan the room again, feeling the tension ease a little as I consider my options. I focus on the door. It looks solid, but I might be able to push it open quietly if the argument continues. As if I'm listening to a bad radio station, I can hear one of them passionately defending his love for mayo, while the other insists that a proper sandwich simply can’t be made without miracle whip. If only all of this were just a bad comedy sketch.

Footsteps echo loudly and the two bull dogs instantly quiet down, must be the boss man, Donovan coming to dish out his anger. But I hear the voice before I see the person, and it’s not Donovan, it’s none other than the man himself, Grey Archer.

Fuck, yes! Isn’t this my lucky day? He walks in like he hasn’t a care in the world. This cunt really does think he’s something big.

He walks into the room muttering, before stopping right in front of me, glaring down with a menacing look. “Well, well, well, what do we have here boys?” He says, clapping his hands together.

“Isn't this a blast from the past?” I reply sarcastically.

Unimpressed, he stands glaring, a grimacing scowl plays on his lips. “All grown up now I see, but I also heard you are up to your same tricks.” His voice is setting my teeth on edge, so I don’t respond. I’m too busy trying to reach my hand into my back pocket without anyone noticing.

Lucky for me, Grey turns around and starts whispering to one of the men. In all seriousness, the man looks like he's been chewing a bee. I don't try to make out what they are saying. I couldn't care less either.

The only thing I’m bothered by right now is getting this rope off my wrists so I can stab the fucker in his eye. It takes a bit of time, but I finally get the knife out of my pocket. Slowly and carefully, I start cutting the rope. I’m only doing it a small amount at a time. I don’t want to risk anyone seeing my arms moving.

Before I can get the rope cut off completely, Grey turns back to me, “So, Jack, what did you do for my son to hold you hostage like this?”

Disgusted, I snigger at him, “You’re the same as always Grey, blaming me for everything. Even after all these years you haven't changed, have you?”

“Grow up Jack, for fuck’s sake! You're not in the playground anymore,” he shouts.

“Fuck off, Grey,” I spit at him, the hatred I feel for him shining through. “I don't have to explain myself to you, come to think about it, I don't have to explain myself to anyone.”

I’m grateful he doesn’t engage me any further. He shrugs me off, turning his back to me. I continue my efforts with the rope. Thankfully, it doesn't take long before it finally breaks apart, but I keep it in my grasp to prevent it from falling to the ground, gripping it tightly so I don't alert them that I'm free. I scan around the space, taking in what’s happened while I’ve been focusing on the rope. I make sure that they are all preoccupied before I creep up from the chair silently. I bite down on my lip, in order not to make a sound as I make my way over to them. The moment I’m close enough, I grab Grey into a headlock, squeezing his head tightly, swallowing down the strong urge to tear his head off his body. With a malicious laugh, I hold my knife to his neck, the sharpness digs in, piercing his skin and a wave of triumph washes through me. I shout to the bull dogs, “Call his son, get him down here, now!”