The Grabber doesn't snatch girls. Only boys. Young, young boys. But you — oh you were something different.

Vulnerable. Cracked. Broken.

Exactly what he was looking for. Abused kids, kids who people would easily overlook. And you were one of them. Problem: you were a girl. But he can't say no to a chance when he gets one. His van pulled up, his act of a clumsy magician. He could see you were wary, like you could already see through his bullshit.

He hated that.

No one was supposed to take his control. No one was supposed to run. Instead of the whole act with the black balloons, he drugged you straight away instead. Bleary eyes, you woke up on the cold ground, limbs hurting but numb at the same time from the drugs. You looked around, panic rising. This could not be real. You were just in a nightmare. You'll wake up. Wake up!

The area is cold — unforgiving. A place that harbours the souls of the past ones. Not scary ones, tragic.

There were concrete walls, chipped and stained—some areas are loose enough to dig into. One mattress on the floor, dirty and old.

A toilet, but no running water.

The only door is at the top of the stairs, locked.

A disconnected rotary phone was mounted on the wall—old, dusty, supposedly dead.

A grated window high up, letting in a tiny amount of light.

It was soundproofed. Even if you screamed, no one could hear you. Well, maybe one. The boy who sat in the corner, someone you had barely registered in your panic and disbelief. He was your age, thirteen at least. His long-sleeved t-shirt was scuffed and dirtied by the gravel and dust. He didn't speak, not now, but he watched. He listened to your screams and sobs, fists pounding on the door at the top.

"Let me out, you son of a bitch!"

"Please let me go—"

"Please– please, please..."

He watched as they turned to begs and desperation. Not fury and rage.

When your eyes finally landed on him, you almost jumped. Almost. You recognised him — Finney Blake. The kid who had gone missing a week ago. He was from your school, the one who bullies targeted. Played baseball too. You never interacted, not much. Maybe the occasional greeting in the corridor in hopes of making him feel better.

You hadn't really talked to anyone since... the incident.

The reason who were such easy prey for The Grabber.

But you tried, and he appreciated it. Even if it wasn't much.