It had gotten to the point where Bobbie could barely remember home. Home that wasn’t the tower, at least, home that had, if he closed his eyes and really, really, thought hard, four straight walls and a straight roof and, possibly most importantly, an exit. Several of them, including the bedroom window he’d snuck out of more than once… but maybe one time too many.
That, that, he remembered very vividly. Sneaking out his window, slinking along the fence line, down to his buddy Jack’s place, and then, the grip like a hand holding him armpits to hips, the sudden sensation of being pulled off his feet.
And then… and then there was the tower. He wasn’t very clear on how he’d gotten in here, but there was certainly no getting out. Not alive, at least.
When he’d first woken up, Bobbie had looked out the window and thought dumbest kidnapper ever. This is a giant tower- later he’d learn it was one of five giant towers -out in the middle of a field. My folks will find me in no time.
He didn’t know how long ago that had been, but it had been quite a while, and, for some reason, nobody seemed to find the giant towers in the middle of a field. Maybe they weren’t looking. Maybe they’d set him up.
Somebody knew he was here. Food came up by basket three times a day. (He’d tried escaping that way, only to discover that he didn’t fit in the basket chute, and that trying meant he didn’t get food for two days), and books, and learning materials, books, games, anything he asked for. Anything except an exit.
Somebody was keeping him here for a reason. Bobby paced the confines of his cell once again, and wondered – not what the reason was, not this time. This time, he wondered if he was going to regret knowing, when he finally found out.
Next: In the Tower, Continued
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/344494.html. You can comment here or there.