Chapter 29: The Warehouse

Chapter 29

~Jason~

I could handle pain. It was one of the things I'd had to get used to while living on the streets for all those years. I'd taken hits to the face and practically every other part of my body, I knew what it felt like to get cut by a sharp knife, and I would never forget the pain I'd felt the first time I'd been stabbed. Getting hurt was just something that came with being a street kid, and it wasn't that hard to get used to.

What I'd always hoped that I'd never experience though, was getting shot. I didn't like how unpredictable a bullet was. In a knife fight, I could gain the upper hand and fist fights were pretty standard, but with guns, everything was up in the air. I'd watched enough people die from bullet wounds to know that dodging bullets was a thing for the movies.

Getting shot was something I told myself would never happen to me. It was the reason I only stuck to small cons and tiny bait.  It was the reason I'd quit running with Ronny and them and it was the reason I'd ended up struggling to scrape money together while everybody else had been getting ahead. I didn't want to end up in a body bag and leave my son to fend for himself, because I'd decided a long time ago, that one way or the other, he wasn't going to spend his entire life living on the streets.

I'd worked my ass off for us and I'd had dreams as big as the moon. Then, for some reason I still couldn't quite explain, I'd been scraped off the streets by an FBI agent of all persons, and given the chance of a lifetime. I'd finally found a home for Timmy and for as long as it had lasted, I'd been happy.

Funny now, how despite all my planning, my dreaming and my luck, the one thing I'd avoided my whole life had happened anyway. I'd gotten shot, but the fucked up thing about it, was that it took leaving the streets behind for it to happen. It was times like this when I didn't understand how some people didn't believe in fate. If shit was meant to happen, you best believe it would happen.

I smelled some sort of cleaning agent; something between rubbing alcohol and the tangy scent of pine, and I wrinkled my nose against it. That, and the beeping machines told me I was in the hospital. I groaned, afraid to open my eyes because I didn't want to see what damage the bullet had done.

I carefully moved my each of my limbs one at a time, testing for damage, but mostly I just felt numb. Finally, I opened my eyes and groaned as I squinted against the harsh overhead florescent lights.

I blinked a couple of times, trying to get my eyes to adjust, then finally looked around the room. It was nothing like any of the hospitals rooms I'd ever seen; not that I'd seen many anyway. Hospitals were expensive after all, so I'd spent most of my life avoiding them.

The paint was peeling off the slightly dirty walls in the small cramped room. I'd thought hospitals favored white walls, but these were grey, dingy and kind of depressing.  There weren't any cool paintings on them either, and when the light above me shifted, I looked up and realized that it was swinging from the ceiling by a thick worn looking cord.

I figured I must have been at the cheapest hospital they could find. Even the equipment looked ancient, and after getting used to Michael's warm, soft sheets, these felt itchy and coarse against my skin. I couldn't wait to go home and climb into my own bed.

I sighed, and blinked a few times. Damn, my eyes were tired. I wondered if maybe Michael was nearby, and that I realized that he was probably picking Timmy up from school. I glanced around the room again, and realized that there weren't any windows or clocks, which meant that I couldn't even tell what time of day it was; or even if it was even day time.

I yawned big and wide, and my eyes watered. I blinked away the moisture in them and my mind drifted to what had happened at the Bureau. I thought about the room full of cops and Ronny with his gun pressed up against me, then I remembered getting hurt and being dragged out of there by the asshole.

I couldn't remember what happened after Ronny had gotten me into the car, but clearly they must have stopped him somehow, because there really was no way that one guy could kidnap someone with a room full of agents just standing around watching. I chuckled. It was kind of crazy to think that I'd even been worried back then about no one saving me.

Another thought crossed my mind and I glanced at the side table to see if my phone was there; no such luck. I wondered if Michael and the others knew that an FBI agent had given Ronny the keys to the car. I wondered if they'd caught him. I decided I'd just tell Michael when he visited me.

I yawned, knowing that I would fall asleep again soon. I glanced at my bandaged arm and sighed. It was going to be a pain in the ass going back to work with an arm that couldn't function at one hundred percent. I reached over to touch the bandages...or at least, I tried to, but something was preventing me from moving my left hand.  I glanced down at my wrist and noticed for the first time that some asshole had cuffed it to the metal railing along the bed.

I pulled against it, but all it did was rattle and clink and give me a headache. I groaned.

"What the fuck's going on?" I whispered to myself, trying to make my tired brain work out what was happening. I couldn't understand why they'd cuff me when I was the one who'd been shot. They all knew that Ronny was the criminal, so why was I being punished?

My brain was moving too slow for my own liking. Maybe I just needed to sleep a little bit first and figure everything out when I wasn't so damn tired.

When the door slid open, I glanced up to see some guy walk in, and for a split second I could have sworn it was Michael and I heart jumped in my chest, but then I looked more clearly and  sighed when I didn't recognize the face.

The guy was wearing a black leather jacket and boots that squeaked against the dirty tiles. I frowned as I watched him check one of the machines and write something down on the book he had in his hand.

"Who are you?" I asked him, because as much as I'd kept away from hospitals, I at least knew that doctors and nurses dressed the part. This guy didn't look like he had any business checking equipment in my room.

He continued doing whatever the hell he was doing and chose not to answer me. I craned my neck to see outside the room since he'd left the door open, but all I saw was darkness. Weren't hospital corridors supposed to be well lit and shit?

I suddenly felt a strange feeling in my stomach and I turned my eyes on the guy again. "What's going on?" I asked him, but he didn't even look at me. "Why am I cuffed?"

Nothing. That's when my slow-as-fuck brain started to speed up, and I realized why everything about the place had felt off. The peeling walls, the dangling light bulbs, the creepy hallway; this wasn't a hospital, and even though the silent asshole was moving like a doctor and doing doctor-like shit, he definitely wasn't here in any official role.

I sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm down as it all began to sink in, but Ronny's words in the car just before I'd blacked out suddenly came crashing back; 'Hang in there Jason, I'm gonna need you alive for what we've got planned.'

"Oh no." I whispered, barely noticing that my heart monitor was going crazy. I shrunk back from the guy as he came closer, but I hadn't realized he'd been holding a needle, until he grabbed my arm and I felt the prick.

I blinked and I know I said something, but I couldn't even figure out what it was. All I saw was the stranger's face swimming in front of mine, then I saw white as I stared up into the light above me. I didn't know how long I stayed like that until everything went black.

...............................

I dreamt about lions and bears. It was the strangest thing; lions and bears living happily ever after in a cave in the jungle, just like in the bedtime story I'd told Timmy once. Lions and bears raising a family, living together, hunting together, protecting each other; it was probably the  weirdest night of my life. Usually, I dreamt about sensible things, like working, saving money, taking care of Timmy, Michael, paying the water bill; the type of stuff that made sense. After going through something as scary as being shot, I should have at least been dreaming about guns, bullets, death or hospitals, but here I was dreaming about something as random and ridiculous as two animals falling in love.

This time when I opened my eyes, I knew immediately where I was; hell. I glanced to the side, and my eyes fixed on a guy I had never seen before. He was old and bald, with the expression of a boy who'd just gotten the best surprise of his life. He smiled at me as I watched him, and my eyes narrowed when he dipped his old, trembling, wrinkled hand into a brown paper bag and pulled out a handful of nuts. He titled his head back and threw them into his mouth, then chewed silently as we watched each other.

"It's true what they say about smoking." He said, and my eyes narrowed. "It's hard to quit. It's been a week since I've touched a cigarette and it's all thanks to these." He held up the paper bag and shook it.

"Where am I?" I asked, barely able to get the words out through my gritted teeth.

The guy looked down at the bag with a frown. "I know I'll get sick of them soon, so I'm trying to find another substitute. I heard the patch isn't so bad, but I'm old fashioned." He said. "I don't see what pasting a piece of paper on my body is going to do, you know?"

"Is this...a psych ward?" I asked, pulling slightly away from him. He grinned.

"It's whatever we need it to be. For now, it's our sick bay."

"Why am I here?"

He smiled, and I realized that I was already starting to hate his face. "You were shot."

"No shit asshole." I sat up and pulled hard on the cuffs; it bruised my wrist. "Who the hell are you and what do you want with me?"

"You can call me Stanley." He said, and paused, waiting for God knows what. "No need to introduce yourself. You have a pretty impressive resume Jason."

"Where's Ronny?"

The guy's smile widened. "Around here somewhere no doubt. You'll see him again when the time's right. He's told us so much about you and we're looking forward to seeing you in action." He continued.

I swallowed against the lump in my throat. I'd been right. These weren't the good guys. Michael and the assholes who worked with him hadn't rescued me after all.

"Relax Jason. We're not going to hurt you...unless you give us a reason to."

I took a deep breath and clenched my fists so he wouldn't see my hands shake.

"Ronny doesn't know shit. He's just a screw-up and he's trying to get back at me. Please just let me go."

Old mad just kept chewing on his nuts, looking me up and down like I was some prize.

"You're holding up well despite being in an unfamiliar situation, with an unfamiliar man in an unfamiliar room. Most people would be freaking out. Yet here you are, somehow holding it together and demanding answers. That alone tells me you're worth some investment."

When I didn't answer, he continued.

"You have a beautiful son by the way." He said, and I froze. "It was interesting to see just how much he resembles you. His name is Timmy right?"

I could only stare at him in shock. Not Timmy, anybody but Timmy. This couldn't be happening.

"Don't worry, he's safe. We've simply been observing him, and we have no plans to approach him as long as you cooperate. Why the name Timmy though? It's so simple, don't you think?"

I flinched when he said my son's name, then the fucking unwanted tears came to my eyes. If he said his name one more time...

"Relax." He said again, then held out the bag toward me with a smirk. I used my free hand and slapped it away from me. It fell to the ground and spilled. For the first time, he frowned, but then the smile was back in place a second later. The guy was insane.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, and hated myself because my voice was shaking.

"You'll find out everything in time. Right now I just want you to concentrate on healing. There's a lot to do, and the longer you're stuck in this bed, the more time we have to put it off."

"There's no fucking way you can get to Timmy. Michael will kill you before he lets that happen."

"The way I heard it, he just stood there and watched you get taken. Something tells me, he'll be just as useful with your kid."

"Ronny lied." I bluffed, and still, the old asshole smiled; it pissed me off.

"Frankly, I wouldn't trust Ronny with his own dick much less with the truth, but the report didn't come from him."  He bragged.

"Yeah because you got your people in the FBI." I glared at him.

"I knew you were a smart one."

"How many of them you got in there?"

He laughed, then stood, and I watched him bend to scoop the nuts back into the bag.

"Get some rest." He said. "Oh, before I forget." He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, then threw it into my lap. "I don't make idle threats."

He pulled open the door and threw me one last smile, before he stepped out and closed it behind him; finally leaving me alone.

I stared down at the envelope in my lap for a long time after that. With my free hand, I tested the weight of it, then flipped it around and around. I was afraid to look inside because I had no idea what to expect.

I took a deep breath before ripping it open, then turned it around and watched as whatever was in inside, spilled onto the bed. When the tears came this time, I couldn't stop them.

"Timmy." I cried his name as I looked at the four pictures. They were of Timmy at school playing with kids on the playground. In two of them, he was sitting with a little boy in the sandbox, and in the third, he was standing beside his teacher, drinking the juice we'd bought for him. In the last picture, Michael was holding him in his arms as he pulled open his car door.

I ran my fingers over their faces. "This can't be happening." I sobbed, not knowing what to do and feeling helpless,

Michael thought he could trust the people he was working with, but he was probably in danger, and they'd managed to get close enough to take pictures without him knowing.

The pictures in front of me blurred and I pulled against the handcuffs again and again. When that didn't work, I grabbed the railing and rocked it back and forth, hoping that if I tried hard enough, it would somehow break.

It was the pain in my arm that made me eventually stop. When I glanced at the bandage, it was bloody. I figured I'd torn open the stitches. My wrist was throbbing, my arm was throbbing, my head was throbbing and my heart was hurting.

I sat back against the pillows and closed my eyes. I was too tired to even reach up and wipe away the tears, so I just let them fall. I thought about Timmy, and wondered if he was doing okay. I hoped he was eating right and listening to Michael. I wondered if he missed me, and if he was mad that I wasn't there. I prayed he didn't think I'd just left him behind. I wanted him to be okay. I wanted him to think I'd be back soon. The more I thought about him and his fat cheeks, his big eyes and those dimples, I cried even harder.

I thought about Michael too and wondered what he was thinking. Was he worried? Was he looking for me? Did he miss me the way I missed him? I wished he was around so I could talk to him like we did every night. I wished I could tell him how scared I was, so he could tell me everything was going to be alright.

I didn't know these people, and I had no clue what they were capable of. I didn't know where I was or what they wanted from me. I didn't even know how long it had been since I'd been shot. Was it a day, two days, more?

I wished Michael was around, so I could hide away in his arms and not worry about a thing. I wished he could protect me, because I was so tired of always being the one protecting. More than all that though, I wished they were both around, so I could tell them how much I loved them, and I prayed that I would see them again soon.

.................................

As bad as it was being in a place like this, not knowing what time of day it was, was even more stressful. People came in and out of my room to check on this and check on that throughout the 'day,' and every single one of them ignored me. It didn't matter if I shouted, it didn't matter if I cussed and it definitely didn't matter if I hurt myself while doing it. It was like I was just some piece of equipment in the room, that they could poke and prick any way they wanted to, and I was too tired to fight them.

At some point they brought in food, and even though I had no appetite at all, I forced it down anyway because I was starving. I fell asleep not too long after that, and the next time the door opened, I sat up quickly, and watched in horror as two huge men stepped in with weapons in their hands.

"Wh—What's going on?" I asked when the 'doctor' came in behind them. He held up a key, then moved to the side of my bed and unlocked the cuffs.

"Let's go.' He said. "It's in your best interest not to do anything stupid." He turned and stepped out the door, and I looked again at the two gunmen. They were watching me and waiting. When the guy on the left tilted his head toward the door, I got up slowly off the bed and followed the 'doctor' out.

They weren't going to kill me, otherwise why bother patch me up in the first place, right? Maybe they were only trying to scare me, or... Jesus. I didn't know what to expect and I was too tired and way too weak to handle any kind of deep thinking.

I felt drained and depressed and scared all at once. Funny how I could put on a tough act, but inside I was like a scared little kid about to pee his pants. The fact that they not only let me see their faces, but hadn't even blindfold me as they walked me through their place, made me feel sick to my stomach. It meant that either they didn't plan on ever letting me go, or they didn't plan on letting me go alive. It meant that I had to figure shit out on my own, and find a way to get the hell away from them. It didn't matter how tired I was anymore, I had to look around and make sure every inch of the place was stored in my head.

The corridor leading from the sick bay was dark enough that I couldn't make out the color or texture of the walls. My legs were weak, and I was slow, but they didn't rush me, and when I got dizzy and tripped over my own two feet, one of the big guys grabbed my good arm and steadied me without saying a word.

The corridor opened into a huge room that made me realize at first glance, that we were in a warehouse. The floors were cemented and grimy from years of dirt, but otherwise it was kept tidy. Like with most warehouses, the ceiling wasn't much of a ceiling. Instead, it was lined with zinc and metal frames to hold up the structure. There were three gigantic fans fixed to the frames which were the only things keeping the room cool, since the one huge door at the far end of the room was locked and there were no windows.

Throughout the day I'd seen about seven different men go in and out of the sick bay, but for whatever stupid reason, I'd still had it in my head, that this was some low level gang. I rolled my eyes at my own stupid thinking. These people had men in the fucking FBI for God's sake, of course it wasn't simple, and seeing the number of people going about their own business in this room, I realized that I was way out of my league.

They were obviously the type of people Michael and them should be dealing with, not some average guy like me. They were organized. The long wall directly in front of us was lined with about a hundred or so shelves and hooks, and on them, there were guns of all shapes and sizes. Guns that I was sure the everyday man wouldn't be able to just get his hands on without people noticing. They'd stored them in some type of wide glass casing that stretched from the end of one wall to the next.

As we walked, I watched as some guy grabbed the handle of the metal sheeting that was fixed to the wall and pulled it quickly along the long wall, covering the guns from sight. When he'd dragged it all the way to the other end, he locked it with a heavy looking metal padlock.

Around us, people walked around doing their own thing; some were cleaning weapons, some were typing shit on a row of computers closer to the door, while others were talking or joking around with each other. Everybody looked so chill; like what they were doing was completely legal, and police wouldn't come knocking on their door at any minute. They all ignored me too. Actually, it was more like they didn't even notice that I was some unfamiliar face walking in front of two big guys with guns.

It looked like everybody had more important things to focus on. What surprised me too, was that the place was quiet. Like if I was to talk a little bit above my normal talking voice, the person at the far end of the room would probably hear me. Well, I figured being loud in some big warehouse, most likely in the middle of nowhere, while carrying out criminal activity, meant that you'd have the sense not to draw attention to yourself; which also meant; no noise.

I continued following behind the 'doctor,' and the more I looked around me the more I began to wonder if it was just me, or did more than half the people around look like teenagers. I blinked, knowing that I was dead tired and my mind could be playing tricks on me, but no matter how hard I looked, the faces didn't change. Most of the people there looked like they between the ages of fourteen and twenty-one.

The younger they looked, the more satisfied they seemed; as if all their troubles had been well taken care of.

"What the fuck's going on here?"

"Move along." The guy behind me nudged me in the back, and I realized that I'd stopped to stare. They led me through another doorway and down another dark hall, and I was pissed at myself for not paying less attention to the people, and more attention to the things around me. I'd barely looked around the room, and here we were going to another.

I bit my lip, and with every step that we took, my heart raced faster. I could already see the opening at the end of the hall, and I was nervous about what would be there. I wondered if they were taking me to their boss to be questioned or something. I wondered a lot of things in the long walk down the hall to be honest, but not one Goddamn thing prepared me for what was actually there.

I glanced at them all in surprise when we stopped, and I looked around the room. This, I hadn't expected. If I hadn't been so scared, I would have actually laughed. We were in a restroom type deal with rows and rows of showers.

"Strip, shower and change into those clothes." The 'doctor' pointed to the folded clothes sitting on a chair by the wall, and the towel in the other chair beside it. He turned me around and began to wrap some sort of plastic around the bandage. "You've got fifteen minutes."  He finished, and I watched him leave the way we'd come. The two big guys took up position by the door and waited.

So this was what prison felt like.

There wasn't any strolling along after the shower. This time, they hurried me down the hall and across the warehouse floors, then finally into another long hallway, where I had to stand in front of a door that I didn't recognize. When one of my guards got it open, he pushed me inside, and I felt the turn of the lock a second later.

Trapped like a fucking rat.

I turned and looked around the room. It was bigger than the sick bay, which I was at least glad for, and surprisingly, there was a TV on the wall. The twin bed was pushed to one corner, and there was an uncomfortable looking chair against another wall. I noticed that there was no remote.

"Good thinking assholes." I grumbled to myself. If there had been a remote, I would have taken out the batteries and dropped them into my sock to use as a weapon. I almost smiled when I thought about bashing Ronny's big head in with it. Almost.

Truth was, I didn't care for violence. I'd grown up on the streets, so it wasn't something I had been able to avoid, but that definitely didn't mean I ever went looking for it.

"I guess this is supposed to me my room now." I said to myself, just because I wanted to hear something other than silence. There was a small duffel bag beside the chair in the corner, and I picked it up off the ground and set it on the bed. When I opened it, I realized that it was filled with snacks.

I dropped it back where I'd found it and frowned. Did they think that because they gave me a couple snacks and a TV that I'd somehow think this place was paradise? I shook my head, then looked up at the ugly ceiling, and finally at the walls. At least the walls were clean.

When I glanced at the small metal shelf above the bed, my eyes landed on a small stack of photos. I reached over and picked them up. Five new pictures of my boy. I felt even more depressed than before, just looking at them.

They were of him at school again, and I could tell this was a different day because he was wearing different clothes. Just like with the other stack they'd given me, this one had a picture of Michael in it.

"You lost weight Michael." I whispered to the photo; running my finger over his face." You don't gotta worry about me. I'm gonna get outta here. I promise."

.........................................

My days were starting to blend together; but then they'd been blending together from the start anyway. I'd woken up not knowing the time of night or the day of the week, and not much had changed since then. The more time passed, the more stressed out I got, and most days I spent just pacing back and forth in the room.

A couple of times when I'd been bored out of my mind, I'd beat on the door and shouted at the assholes at the top of my lungs, but they still ignored me, and the only thing that had come out of it for me was more pain. The good thing was that I had a pretty good idea when it was morning, because that was when the breakfast came, but I got the strange feeling that they mixed it up sometimes to confuse me.

One thing I could say though, was that they fed me well...or at least they tried to. My appetite still hadn't come back, and the longer I was trapped, the less I ate. There was no escaping this place; not with the way things were so far.

Everyday he opened the door and led me to the bathroom, then took me back to my room where there was food waiting. A few hours later, another bathroom trip, more food, and then a whole lot of nothing for a long time, until the final bathroom trip and the final meal. There were always at least two guys following me with weapons, and no one said a word to me, no matter what I said or did.

I swear I wasn't a crier, but that was all I did; look at the pictures of my family and cry. I just wanted to see their faces; that was it. If I could just at least see their faces, just once, then maybe it would all be easier.

I was in bed, staring up at the ceiling the next time they came in.

"I'm not going anywhere." I said. "So you can all go fuck yourselves."

"If you don't get up, then we'll drag you out, it's as simple as that."

"Then you're gonna be dragging me around for a long time asshole." I said without looking at them. I was sick of it; sick of being ignored, sick of being their prisoner, sick of not getting any answers, and sick of being without my family.

I expected them to rough me up; at least then I'd get something to do, but a second later, I heard the door click, and when I looked over, they were gone. I sighed.

I figured it was about an hour and a half before they came back; this time they brought company; the old man from that first day, and of course he came in with his bag of nuts. He was smiling again, and after so long without any real attention from anyone, it was like a breath of clean fucking fresh air.

I sat up in bed with my back against the wall and my arms crossed before me. Old Man took the only chair in the room, and my two guards melted out of the room like shadows.

"I was wondering when you were going to finally grow some balls." Was the first thing Old Man said, and my eyes narrowed. "Thought we'd have you trapped in here for a few months before you finally did something to fight back."

"I'm sick of you, this place and your fucking games. I'm done."

His smile widened. "Says who?" he tilted his big, fat, bald head to the side. "Is it that you think you have some sort of advantage that we're not aware of? Do you think that you'll just be able to walk out of here without a care in the world whenever the mood takes you?"

When he threw a handful of nuts into his mouth and chewed as if nothing else mattered, all the fight drained out of me, and like a fool, I broke down and sobbed my eyes out while he watched. My whole world was falling apart and he didn't give a damn and it hurt me.

I fell apart in front of him for a long time, and he just sat there and watched me, and I hated him more every second that passed. I wanted to be with my son and Michael. I didn't want to be here with these people in this place.

"I'm not tough. I'm not whatever you think I am." I sobbed. "I just want to go home." I told him with my runny eyes and runny nose. I pulled my knees up to my chest, and dropped my head onto them and cried some more.

Afterwards, both of us just sat there in silence. I couldn't look at him after making a complete fool of myself like that, so I just kept my head on my knees and focused on breathing. It was like that for a long time, and I was surprised that I didn't even hear the crunching of nuts between his teeth.

Finally, he cleared his throat and I tensed, waiting for...something.

"I'll give you two hours." He said. "You'll be able to see him, and if you're lucky, you may very well catch a glimpse of your lover too."

My head shot up, and I watched his face in shock. He wasn't smiling, he didn't look like he was messing around, but I didn't know him, which meant I didn't know what he was capable of.

"I—I don't believe you."

He continued as if I hadn't said a word. "Once you've seen them, we can officially begin. We've lost enough time as it is." He stood and walked out the door without another word, and I pressed my hand to my chest because my heart was going crazy.

Was this real? Would he really let me see them? Would this be my chance to finally get away from these guys? I stood when the door opened again, and this time I went with them without any fuss. This time we didn't go into the main hall. They took me to a room I'd never been to before. It was a decent sized space with no windows as expected, and I was starting to wonder if I'd ever actually feel the sun again, or see the trees, or the skies, or feel the wind on my face.

I sighed. "Am I really going to see my son?" I asked one of the guards, but as usual, he ignored me.

"Sit." He said, pointing to the stool in the middle of the room, and when I did, a woman I'd only glimpsed at some point during the first few days, came in. She pissed me off instantly.

Why the fuck was everybody in this Godforsaken place so happy all the time? I wanted to wipe that shit eating grin off her face. She came in like some happy little daisy, with her floral print, expensive looking jacket, her ridiculous gold jewelry and ugly knee high boots.

She looked about thirty, but then who could tell with all that makeup. The guard, who I'd started calling Big Joe in my head a few days back (the other one didn't have a name yet), pulled my wrists together, and put on the handcuffs, then he stepped back and stood watching me. I glanced at the woman and watched as she sorted through the rows and rows of clothes that were hung up all over the room.

She looked over at me once, frowned a little, then pulled out some male clothes, and dropped them onto the table not too far away from me. Then, she picked up a small bag and pulled a smaller table with wheels over to where I sat.

I watched carefully as she dropped her bag onto the table, and pulled out a pair of scissors and a hair clipper. I knew what was coming.

"So now I don't even get a say in what happens with my own hair?" I mumbled to myself.

"Do you want to see your kid or not?" she asked, and that shut me up.

I let the stranger do what she wanted to me. The curls that Michael liked so much dropped little by little to the floor at my feet, and soon after that, even the midnight black hair that made me and Timmy look so much alike, was bleached blonde.

When it was over, I stared at the person looking back at me in the mirror. I stared at his scruffy chin, the dark circles under his eyes, his hollowed out cheeks, and two inches of blonde hair on his head. I didn't recognize the Jason who was staring back, and neither would Timmy or Michael.

When I'd lived on the streets I'd always thought life was hard, but nothing compared to what I was feeling in that moment. Life on the streets was easy compared to this, because at least back then I was going home to my son everyday. When they removed the cuffs for a moment, I stripped in front of them, and changed into the clothes they wanted me to wear, then I sat and listened as they told me what I could and couldn't do, and of course, what would happen if I broke the rules.

In a few minutes, they would take me to see Timmy. I would watch him from a far, I wouldn't make a fuss, and after exactly two hours, no more and no less, the visit would be over and they would take me back here to where I would be expected to cooperate. If I tried any stupid, they would hurt him.

They told me that when I got back they would give me tasks to do. I translated that to mean I'd be doing illegal shit from now on. If I did the tasks well, I'd be rewarded. That reward might be less time in my room, or it might be more chances to see Timmy. They told me that failure in any way was a waste of their time and energy, so I figured I'd just drop the word from my vocabulary, because there was no way in hell I was ever going to miss a chance of seeing my kid.

I'd already realized that there was no way I'd get a chance to escape on this visit. They'd be watching me, and they'd be careful, but I hadn't come this far, and gone through all the shit I'd gone through just to have a roomful of assholes control my life.  I was getting out one day soon; one way or another.

They blindfolded me before we even got to the main door of the warehouse, but I listened carefully to what was going on around me. I heard the sound of the huge metal door sliding across the concrete, and then we were finally outside.

The breeze felt amazing against my skin. I took a deep breath and turned my face up to the sky. I liked the feel of the warm sun on my face. Instead of gravel, I felt grass under my feet right up until the point where they put me into the car, which probably meant that there was no road leading to the warehouse, but there was at least a path wide enough to allow a car to come through.

I relaxed my body so that it would sway with the movement of the car. The ride to the end of the road was long and bumpy. At the end of the path we turned right, then left onto smooth road and while I couldn't tell if it was a main or minor road, I focused on any twists and turns, and after another five minutes or so, we turned left again. After that I lost track. I was starting to get dizzy and following along like this wasn't as easy as I'd thought it would be.

It was a long time before the car finally stopped, but as soon as it did, they pulled the blindfold away from my eyes and gave me another warning. I blinked against the bright light of the afternoon sun and glanced out the window. When I realized where we were, I slid across the seat and pressed both of my hands against the glass.

Timmy's school. I was actually here and it didn't take me more than a few seconds to find him on the playground. I saw his curly black hair first, then I saw his big happy grin, and those dimples that I just wanted to kiss.

"Timmy." I whispered. I wanted to go to him and pick him up. I wanted to hold him forever. I glanced at Big Joe, who was sitting beside me, then back out the window. I already knew the rules and the consequences if I broke them, but if I couldn't go to him, then I at least wanted him to see me. I wanted him to look up just once and see me in the car across the street.

I wished for it in my head as hard as I could, then gave up because even if he saw me he wouldn't know it was me. They'd turned me into a person even my son wouldn't recognize. I pressed up against the glass and watch him. I didn't even want to blink and miss a moment of seeing his face.

He was the most beautiful boy on the planet and he was all mine. "Timmy." I whispered again.

He had Bunny with him as expected, but he was sharing him with his little friend, and they both looked so happy. I wondered if he missed me. I wondered if he even realized that his daddy wasn't there to tuck him in at night anymore, then I cussed at myself, because of course he knew and of course he missed me.

He looked healthy, which I was so happy for. I was so glad in that moment that I'd met Michael, because now he was taking good care of my boy. I smiled when I noticed that he'd gotten a hair cut; just a little trim off the ends. I could just imagine how he'd kicked and screamed in that barber shop chair.

I wondered if Michael was still sneaking him candy, and for once I didn't care if he was, because Timmy deserved to get every single thing he wanted. I suddenly regretted not letting him play in the water with Bunny as much as he had wanted. I regretted getting mad at him when he wouldn't put on his clothes, or when he'd made a mess. When I got back to him, I'd let him make all the mess in the world; I didn't mind cleaning up after him.

When I got back I'd make sure he never cried again. I'd give him tickles, I'd read him his favorite bedtime stories even twenty times if he asked. I'd buy him the biggest tub of ice-cream ever and let him eat as much as he wanted, and if he got a stomach ache I'd make him ginger tea and rub his belly until he fell asleep.

He was right there in front of me; my little Timmy, and I couldn't even go to him. I couldn't even tell him that I loved him. I was just useless and for what? Because Ronny couldn't keep his damn mouth shut; because Ronny was a sick, pathetic little bastard who couldn't get a life of his own; because Ronny was a disloyal piece of shit. To think I'd been a good friends to him for all those years before I'd left the gang. To think I actually gave a shit about him.

He better pray I never saw his face again.

I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat as I watched Timmy play. I'd do whatever they wanted me to do if it meant that I could see him again. There was no such thing as failing anymore if this was going to be my reward, and in the meantime, I would find a way out. It wasn't going to be weeks or months or years; fuck no. Timmy needed me now, and I was going to find a way out very very soon.

The minutes melted away as I sat there watching him. I was glad that Big Joe and the other guy didn't say a word. I didn't want anything to ruin this time I had. I wanted to run out of the car and pick him up when he fell onto the grass, but because he was a tough little kid, he got up all by himself and he didn't even cry. The kid who'd been beside him the whole time, helped brush off his clothes, and I was happy that he had a little friend to be happy with.

When my two hours were almost up, Michael drove up, and I swear my heart stopped in my chest when I saw him. He looked tired as hell; like he hadn't slept in weeks, and like I'd noticed from the pictures, he'd lost weight too, but he was still the most beautiful man I'd ever seen. I watched him as he crossed the parking lot of Timmy school and disappeared around the corner.

I desperately wanted to shout his name. I wanted him to know that I was there so he could help me, but beside me, Big Joe had pulled his weapon out of his clothes, and held it in his lap. The look he gave me told me that it would be a terrible idea.

Michael reappeared a short while later on the playground, and I saw the excitement on Timmy's face the second he saw that Michael was there; it was the biggest and brightest smile I'd seen in the whole two hours that I'd been watching him.

Michael scooped him up into his arms and hugged him, and I wished I was close enough to hear what they were saying to each other. I clapped a hand over my chest because it hurt. These were the only two people in the whole world who I would do absolutely anything for. They were my family, and I was right there in shouting distance and I couldn't even go near them.

I wiped angrily at the tears that had started to trail down my face, and blinked hard and fast to get ride of them because it was hard to see them with my eyes filled with water.

"Alright. Time's up." Big Joe said, and when he picked up the blindfold, I sobbed and pressed my face up to the glass again so I could see them one last time.

The last thing I saw before he covered my eyes was my lover and my son, walking out of the playground, hand in hand.

I bawled all the way back to the warehouse. The bastards who traveled with me said nothing the whole time.

.........................................

Three days later I found out that I'd been there for two weeks. Two whole weeks my son hadn't seen his father's face. Two weeks, I'd played by their fucked up rules. Two weeks I'd been trapped in my windowless prison, and I was fucking ready for it to end.

The daily routine was the same as always; bathroom, breakfast, bathroom lunch, bathroom dinner. During the time I'd spent outside of my room, I'd memorized every different route we'd taken. I knew who was where when and what areas were busiest when. I knew where they kept their weapons, where most of them ate their lunch, and even though there were so many different faces, I'd already started memorizing them.

Eventually, when they trusted me enough to let me interact with the others, I planned to learn the important names and the roles they all played. I wasn't wasting my time in here that was for sure. The assholes shouldn't have brought me here, because the second I got out, their whole damn operation was going down.

When I slipped on my clothes after my regular shower for the day, something finally changed in the routine. Instead of taking me directly to my room, they carried me into the main hall and set me down on a bench against a wall.

Big Joe of course, made sure to secure the cuffs in place, then to my surprise, both my guards left. It was the first time I'd been left alone outside the room, and I frowned as they disappeared.

I looked around the room. It wasn't as crowded that day as it usually was, which was interesting, but I wondered why they suddenly felt comfortable enough to leave me alone, when for the past two weeks, they'd stuck to my ass like glue.

I still hadn't figured out yet why there were so many teens around, but then, I hadn't figured out much in general yet anyway. It was about an hour before Big Joe and the other guy came and got me, and this time they took me straight to my room where Stanley the old man was waiting.

They locked the door and I watched Old Man warily as he sat in the chair chewing the usual. I hadn't seen him since the day I'd made a fool of myself in front of him. I sat on the very edge of the bed and watched him, and I realized he was purposely trying to make me uncomfortable.

Every time I saw the guy I hated him even more. "I take it you saw your son."

"When can I see him again?" I asked instead of answering, because I'd stopped putting up with everyone's bullshit a long time ago.

Old Man grinned. "You sat in the main hall for exactly one hour today." He said. "Tell me what you observed."

It sounded like a simple question, but I could tell by the look in his eyes that it was important. Two whole weeks had passed and they still hadn't told me what they needed me for, but after the last conversation we'd had I knew he was probably testing me.

"Do you want me to tell you about the bullet hole in the wall beside the computers, or do you want to hear about the people?"

"You decide." He said, so I did.

I told him about the crack in the right corner of the glass in the gun case, the dust gathering in the corner by the stack of paints by the empty bookshelf, peeling paint on the one side of the metal frames that were holding up the zinc roof, the one broken light bulb in the ceiling; light bulb number 17 counting from the right to left facing the hallway leading to the showers.

I mentioned the half dead sunflower than had exactly 9 petals left and the smell of weed coming from the room opposite the main entrance. After that, I told him about the people; like the girl with the freckles and the bad dye job, the thirty-something year old man with the blue wire-frame glasses, who was missing two of his bottom front teeth, the boy who looked about seventeen years old who'd walked in with two pocked full of cash, the girl with the broken nose and the bloodshot eyes, the kids who walked into the room marked 'restricted' with smiles on their faces, and walked out at fifteen minute intervals with what I was almost sure were stomachs stuffed with drugs.

I told him every last detail of what I'd seen, because it was obvious he wanted to be impressed, and by the look on his face when I was done, he clearly was.

He sat forward in his chair, and set aside his bag of nuts for the first time.

"Looks like we got the right man for the job."

"What job's that?" I asked.

Old Man stood with that same cocky smile that always pissed me off. "Get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be a long day." He said, then turned and left without another word.

I stared at the door for a long time afterward, thinking about the time I'd spent there and how much of their bullshit I'd had to put up with, then I glanced down at my clenched fists and slowly opened my right hand.

I picked up the rusted nail from my palm and spun it around and around in my hand. One hour I'd sat out there observing them, but their big mistake had been that they'd all ignored me.

"Idiots." I said under my breath as I stared at the tiny little thing that would help me go free.

The old man shouldn't have left me out there. I thought, because there was one important thing that I'd seen in the main hall that I hadn't told him about, and that had to do with a very important blue door that had been left open for around twenty minutes today.

I sat in the only chair in the room and continued to twirl the nail around in my hand. Tonight I was going to call Michael; and the tiny office with the blue door was exactly where I needed to be to do it.

"Just wait a little bit longer Timmy. Daddy's coming home." I whispered the words to myself in the quiet room.

Author's Notes

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-unedited.