Abdulaye choked on a cough. He was on his knees, tied and bleeding from his forehead. His head was jerked back by the villain, who then pressed a knife to their throat. The steel was cold as it lightly drew blood from the skin. His limbs shook, his breath struggling to keep under control.

“Oh, gosh… doesn’t he mean so much to you?” they cooed to the hero. They jerked his hair some. “Doesn’t he?”

He stared at the hero. And he all he felt was... guilt. How could he let himself be captured? How could he fail them? Make them have to search for him, worry them? He had promised not to be a burden, and now look at him.