1
I found myself in a basement. It smelled bad—no, it smelled terrible. Darkness invaded everything.
"Hello, Dylan Tyler."
I tried to break free from the wooden chair I was tied to, but I failed...
I looked up. It was the wolf who had been with Michael, watching me intently.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"I am your paternal grandfather," he said.
"What?" I gasped.
"I have to go. See you later."
"Wait—!"
But before I could say another word, he opened the door and left...
"....."
What is going on?! Where am I?! I was at the inn... and now I'm here. Lisa! Dad! Mom! Elizabeth! They must be wondering where I am.
I want to get out of here, but I can't. Tinki and Trabis stayed on the bed and...
"Patt!" I called out.
Nothing. Wait, damn it.
"I'm staying at your grandparents' house; I'm sick of accompanying you on death missions."
Now what? Am I supposed to just stay here? Do nothing? DAMMIT.
I have to get out. I have to find something. I rocked the chair a bit; it creaked. I wobbled it hard and—
"Ahg."
I fell onto the cold, foul-smelling floor—it smelled like sweaty socks. Everything was dark, save for a tiny sliver of light.
I'm not exactly afraid of the dark, but... this is making me extremely uneasy.
At least I'm not claustrophobic.
2
I've been here for about three hours. My eyes are starting to get tired, and my wrists and hands are falling asleep. Mostly, though, my face hurts from pressing against the floor for so long.
I tried to use magic, but aside from it being impossible, I didn't bring my key. So I'm trapped here, with no one to save me...
My stomach is empty. I'd a thousand times rather be in Carla's seal than here.
"It smells horrible."
That was the 58th time I've said that. To pass the time, I've done nothing but stare at the wall. It's so boring.
I think in stories where someone gets kidnapped, things happen faster. Who's going to come save me now?
"Daddy, what happens if I get kidnapped one day?"
"That won't happen, son. And if it does, I'll save you and teach the bad guy a lesson."
"Really? Do you promise?"
"I promise."
"...."
Dad... I'm sorry. I'm probably a burden to you, aren't I?
A click at the door echoed, and someone entered. Their footsteps rang through the room.
"Hello, Dylan," a voice said.
"Ahg! Michael!" I exclaimed.
"Wow, you really look terrible. I'm sorry if... well, your leather jacket looks different, doesn't it?"
"Michael, I'm wearing the same clothes from the tournament," I snapped.
"Ah, right," he said.
It was just the two of us in the room, wearing the same outfits. A fly buzzed past; the sound was deafening in the silence.
"Hey, I'll let you go," he said.
"Yes, please and thank you," I replied.
He untied me, and I felt a wave of relief.
"Hey, didn't you lock the door?" I asked.
"Ah, no," Michael said.
My breathing quickened. The chair was right next to me. I grabbed it and smashed it over Michael's head. It was so fast it even caught him by surprise.
Then I bolted, throwing the door open.
I ran through the hallways. The walls were rustic, made of mud; there was nothing else. I thought someone was chasing me. I finally reached the main door.
"HELP!" I screamed as I swung it open.
My heart hammered against my ribs because it wasn't the main exit. It was a room where the wolf who claimed to be my "paternal grandfather" was sitting.
I got out of there as fast as I could. I want to leave, I want to leave, I want to leave.
Door after door, hallway after hallway... nothing.
By the time I finally reached the actual front door, I was out of breath.
"My, you certainly run fast," my "paternal grandfather" said. "I suppose Roberto didn't teach you manners."
I turned around to tell him to go to he—
And suddenly, everything went white and gray...
3
I woke up again in the damn room, but this time, I felt a sharp pain in my forehead.
"Ahg."
I touched it with my fingers; I was bleeding. Apparently, they had hit me there...
I watched the door intently. It was gray.
"At least I'm not tied to a chair anymore," I told myself, but that didn't improve my situation.
"Hey!" Michael shouted through the door. "That hurt!"
"Sorry," I spat. Right. He wants me to be nice to him after locking me in here.
Because we should be grateful to psychopaths for kidnapping us, right John Gacy?
"Well, we aren't looking to kill you," Michael said.
"Sure, and Dahmer just wanted his guests to watch a movie," I muttered.
"Well, see you later," Michael said.
And then he left me alone...
"Jason would have been faster," I sighed.