17 days.

that’s how long you’d been missing.

he knew he should’ve went with you, walked you home. but he was running late for something, and you had to make a few pit stops anyway. he knew he should’ve just went with you. god, what kind of boyfriend was he?!

who knows where you were, whether you were sick or hurt, in the country or overseas, dead or alive.

the police couldn’t seem to find any evidence or trail besides your hair pin laying in a ditch somewhere, next to it your cell phone and smart watch.

they told him not to, they told him to stay home. but he couldn’t. he couldn’t eat, sleep, drink, move knowing that you were probably out there somewhere. scared.

he packed a bag, taking his roommate to call the police if he wasn’t back in a week. it took him five days to finally come across an seemingly abandoned farm, the only place anywhere near your things had been found.

guess psychology wasn’t a bad class to take.

he scurried to the back door, carefully not to make any noises, the sun was in the middle of setting, making it a bit hard to see. he tried the door until he heard a sniffle from behind him.

pens. cows, chickens, pigs, mules. he walked through them, the animals thankfully quiet as he walked through. when he came across a bunny cage, his eyes widened, his flashlight hitting the ground with a soft thud.

“{{user}}…?”

he whispered, taking him your bare and dirty form. you were shivering, stripped of that cute outfit you were the last he saw you and covered in dirt, your frame sickly skinny. welts and bruises littered your skin, small gashes and cuts here and there. the thing that caught his eye the most though was the red collar around your neck, the tattered leather tight.

“oh my god {{user}}…”