Fangs | mlm

Chapter 3 - The escapes

Half-awake, Trevor made out a murmur of an engine and thought he was dreaming. Apart from it, it was deadly quiet. However, after opening his eyes, he saw neither the wooden wall of the warehouse nor the wardrobe of his bedroom but a road. It stretched for what seemed like miles ahead—not a single building in sight. He could only notice all that because of the gleam that the headlights provided, as the sky outside was dark and full of stars.

"I can see that The Sleeping Beauty has finally graced me with her presence," said a voice to his right.

Although Trevor knew whose it was, it didn't keep him from flinching, which got him wide awake. No wonder he didn't feel safe. Who would feel safe with a kidnapper at their side? He turned to look at the stranger's well-known figure. He was all in the shadows, only the headlights' gleam was reflected in his eyes. It almost reminded him of the day of his kidnapping, when all that trouble and mess had begun.

He couldn't believe that a day or even more had passed since he'd been last home. He hadn't signed up for this, they hadn't given him a choice. A new wave of fear, anger, and desperation built up in his body. He turned to the door on his side, then reached out a hand and flexed his fingers around the handle. He pulled it toward him, hoping to open the door, but it did nothing. The handle moved, but the door wouldn't open. What did he expect?

"Don't bother wrestling with it," the stranger said. "I locked all the doors and windows."

Trevor fixed him with a glare, hand frozen on the handle. He knew he wouldn't escape that easily. He needed a plan. But merely thinking about it made him realize he was alone with him in this closed space. He shuddered inwardly. However, he had to keep both his nerves and behavior under control. He couldn't throw himself at the stranger—it wouldn't help his situation at all. He had to play it smart. So he took his hands away and locked a fairly calm expression on his face instead.

"What are you doing?" Trevor demanded, unable to predict the forth-coming answer.

He should have woken in the warehouse or his bedroom, but not here. And he didn't even know what was here. There was too much space between the seats so it couldn't be a car, it had to be some kind of van.

"I'm saving you," he responded right away, not taking his eyes off the road.

Trevor couldn't suppress a frown. The person he'd like to be saved from was the stranger himself, so who could he possibly be saving Trevor from? 

"From what?" he asked.

"From them. You know what I mean by that. Or rather, who."

Trevor looked out the window and fell silent, so that he could let these words sink in. He still couldn't come up with a reason why they had kidnapped him, though. A ransom seemed most obvious. But he hadn't been lying when he'd said his friends were broke; he was too. However, his family wasn't as poor as he'd put it—well, his adoptive parents at least.

He'd never met his biological parents, and now his interest to meet them was almost gone. He just didn't need to. His parents had adopted him when he was still a baby, and they had given him everything he needed and much more. He knew how lucky he was to get adopted at such a young age, and what privilege it had given him. He didn't remember his stay at child care at all. However, it didn't stop him from making stories no one was ever able to confirm or deny; his biological parents were a mystery. For example, he could speculate from his appearance that they were of East Asian descent, and so would he, like Japanese, or Korean, or Chinese, or even places like Vietnam or Cambodia. It was part of identity he could hold on to apart from his English one. 

Trevor looked back at the stranger, then asked, "Is it because you want all the money for yourself?" His tone was more annoyed than angry.

He smiled to himself. "Oh, it's not about the money."