| Tenotiefe | Date: Wednesday, 22 May 2013, 22:49:01 | Message # 1 |
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| He did wake again, however.The bag and the cloying scent of somniculous remained, but the drug itself was obviously dissipated.He was lying on a hard but inconstant surface, and he soon recognized by the motion that he was in a boat, on water.His hands and feet were efficiently bound.His captors did not speak, but he could hear their breathing and exertions at the oars.He couldn't make out anything through the sack except light, but he felt the sun on his skin and guessed it was approaching midday.Not much later, there was a bit of jostling and then the shock of the boat coming on shore.They cut the bindings on his feet and made him walk.He kept thinking he ought to say something, but his kidnappers behaved so professionally he knew there wasn't much point.There was no talking them out of whatever they were doing with him.
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All he could do was wait, and wonder.Would he feel it?
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Would he know anything had happened?Colin killed a man once.He died confused, begging, unwilling to admit even as the knife cut into him what was happening.He wished he could have seen his mother again, and — realizing he was weeping — felt ashamed.He'd wanted to be braver.
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