I came home unexpectedly, and I just couldn’t find my father anywhere. There was no intimation of where he could or would have gone, other than a small note that was left on the table. I gaped at it as I read:

“James,

They have taken me. Don’t bother coming to find me.”

The note wasn’t finished and I started to panic. I sprinted to my car and turned it on. I warily looked behind me to make sure there was nothing obstructing my path.

I tore down the open country road and noticed a man in a guise standing in the middle of the road. A metal rod, resembling a baseball bat, was in his hand. I was tentative about slowing down, but I did anyway.

The man was very stolid and unmoving, as if he was dead. But, suddenly, he grabbed me by my collar and pulled me close to his face. I looked into his dour eyes as he started to speak.
“Stop looking for your father,” the man said, “You will never see him again.”

The man shoved me back into the car.
“Never again will you see him.” The man reiterated. He knocked me out, opened the door, pulled my lifeless body out and carried me to his car.

I awoke in a dark warehouse. A man that looked to be in his forty’s was staring into my face. His breath smelt of cheap beer and cigarettes. He hit me in the stomach and I grunted.
“Where’s my father?” I asked.
“He’s here.”
“Where is he?” I asked as I heard loud screams coming from a distant room.
“There.” The man replied, motioning to a flight of stairs.

The screams echoed in my ears, slowly draining my fortitude as I was hit repeatedly, over and over and over again. Apparently I was very pliable at this point, because my arms and legs were twisted and bent in many different ways. The last thing I remember was blacking out, although this time, for good.