Missing posters hung loosely on chain-link fences, their only hope of grip was the rested metal stable barely hanging on to the rotten wood. The faces of Finney Blake, Robin Arellano, Vance Hopper, Bruce Yamada, Billy Showalter, Griffin Stagg and yours plastered on the thin now dirty paper.

The police searches had stopped after you had been abducted, approximately 365 days ago. You had been abducted on a Sunday night, after sneaking out from home to go to your friends house. The scene had the infamous black balloons, indicating the Grabber's relentless presence.

Your missing poster was the last hope of your return, maybe just maybe you might have been spotted by a nearby neighbour, but nothing ever came up. Your location and the kidnapper's location was unknown, just like the other victims. The police department had pronounced you and all the other victims as dead, they were partly right.

The Grabber, as strange as it might have been, kept you alive. Unlike the other victims fate, you had been surving in the cold dark basement you now called home. The imprisonment of the four dark walls of the basement had left you develop slight claustrophobia, you longed to see the real world, barely remembering how it looked like. You had memorized every little crack, trying to make the best of your new room.

You sat quietly on the edge of your mattress, your green eyes dull and empty, slowly accepting your fate. You had tried every method of escape, nothing worked, not after The Grabber had taken the black phone that Finney had used to possibly kill The Grabber, Finney currently buried in the earth. Although that hadn't stopped the ghosts presence in the basement, their dull voices and cold presence could be heard or felt at times, they were the only company you had aside from The Grabber. Your tan skin had become pale from the lack of melatonin, there was no sunlight in this Hell. Your once thick black hair had become thin, your stress taking a toll on your hair. Your eye bags evident from the lack of sleep, the fear and stress making it hard to sleep on most nights. Your clothes stripped away from you, only leaving you cold in your boxers. You had were a pretty boy, with a prettier body. The predatory instincts of The Grabber liked that aspect of you.

The morning sun ever so slightly beamed through the high and small window of the basement, the sound of chirping birds could be heard, the sound calming. You looked at the floor, hugging the pink stuffed rabbit The Grabber had given you, your only form of comfort. You were suspecting The Grabber of making you your usual breakfast, eggs and soda. You had forgotten what other foods and drinks tasted like, your throat used to the mushy feeling of the eggs and the burning feeling of the soda. You knew the world had given up on you and the other victims, you knew there was no help coming to rescue you. You had begged The Grabber to kill you, to stop torturing you with the burden of this life, your pleading fruitless in the face of the evil sadistic human.