Caged

A sense of complete and utter horror settled over the trio as the determined officer eyed them smugly. Something told Brian that he was simply looking for a method to use that would take their minds off of the matter at hand concerning Zacky.

“So Zacky’s at the station, then?” he spoke, not giving up on the matter. His friends didn’t blame him a bit, though now, they had become more concerned with their own situations—Matt, whose parents would surely kick him out of their house for getting into more trouble than he already had in past months, and Jimmy, whose parents wouldn’t even be in town to bail him out and give him trouble. That was, if the three of them did end up in jail.

“Would you just shut your damned trap and go get ready to leave, pal?” the policeman snapped, earning Brian a few looks from his friends that clearly screamed “Come on, dude.”

Shaking his head, the dark-eyed boy sighed before turning and retreating down the hallway toward his and Zacky’s room, pursing his lips and biting his cheek so that he wouldn’t turn back to the officer and snap again.

As little as he wanted to earn himself time in jail—since he too would have no one to bail him out—all Brian truly cared about at this point was where they had taken his boyfriend.

Just as soon as he’d collected his gray Nikes and pulled them on along with a clean pair of socks, he turned to the door once more before thinking twice and turning back to his closet. He also collected a shirt for Zack, since he knew that the officers had taken him away so quickly that he hadn’t had the chance to put own back on.

Then, he made his way back toward the living room to meet his jittery friends and the hard-headed officer who would be taking them to the station. Whilst in the living room, though, Brian collected the hoodie that Zack had worn as well, slinging it over his shoulder along with the shirt. He was getting the younger man out of the authorities’ custody and bringing him home, wherever it was that they were keeping him, and there wasn’t a doubt in his mind about that.

Soon, the three boys were loading into the back of a patrol car, half nervous, and half ready to snap and take this officer out. The station had to have been about 25 minutes from Brian’s house, and the trip there was sure to be quite the unpleasant ride.

Matt and Jimmy were too afraid of winding up in jail to say much of anything, even to one another, and though Brian could really have cared less, he wanted his chances of seeing Zacky and bailing him out to be as high as could be. He had to be in good behavior in order for that to happen.

And so he waited it out patiently, made his best attempt to take the half-hour drive as though it meant nothing to him, even as it truly meant putting his life on the line. Zacky was his life.

When the crowded vehicle finally did arrive at the station, where apparently, they were to be interrogated, a heavy, anxious sigh eluded Brian. Where was Zack? Were they to be grouped with him for questioning, or taken in one by one?

Despite his determination, this was a lot to take in, and the 18-year-old wasn’t sure what to make of it all.

As the stocky man killed the car’s engine and climbed out, opening the door for the three teenagers, Brian shook his head. This area was exactly as it had been the last time he’d been here, and, admittedly, the sight of it made him uneasy. The last time he had been here was when McKenna had been reported missing, and the memory chilled him to the bone.

The recollection of being here as a frightened 16, near 17-year old boy was nearly too much, but Brian pushed his way through it, this time hoping for a familiar face, perhaps someone who might recognize him from that year and some months ago.

As they were led through the doors, though, Matt, Jimmy, and Brian realized that the large station was nearly empty of occupants, aside the people who worked there.

This was extremely odd, since, on any given day, the lobby, the seats lining the outside
wall, all of it would have been packed; oversold to the max. Everything about the atmosphere now struck the shaken boys as extremely odd. Nothing about this situation in itself seemed right.

Soon, they were rounding a corner, entering a small hallway, a portion of the station that none of them had ever seen before. “You boys wait right here.” the officer escorting them grumbled, jabbing a thumb toward a row of chairs lining the wall as he turned back toward them, removing his aviator sunglasses to reveal the aging skin surrounding his metallic gray eyes.

The color of the crass man’s irises reminded Brian instantly of Zacky’s eyes—the way that they must have appeared now: Dark, afraid, nothing like that of the man, the angel that he’d fallen so deeply in love with.

As Jimmy and Matt took their seats, Brian stood in place for a moment, shaking his head as they officer slipped past him and stalked off in the other direction.

The now-distraught man had simply become lost in his own thoughts; the thoughts of his boyfriend being bound, tied, locked up—treated like some sort of animal. This brought tears to the young man’s dark eyes immediately, and for the first time since being so crudely separated from Zack, Brian began allowing himself to break down.

He hated to appear so weak, especially in front of the two men he had come to know so well, had become acquainted with as friends within the past hour, but he very simply couldn’t hold himself together any longer.

The officer had long since gone away, so now, now that they didn’t need to fear being arrested for the moment, Brian’s friend’s came to his aid.

Standing as he took notice of the tears trickling over his new acquaintance’s flushed cheeks, Matt took the flustered-looking man around the shoulders and seated him in the chair that sat between Jimmy and himself.

“Hey now, since when do guys with names like Synyster Gates cry..?” the muscular boy spoke gently, making his best attempt to lighten Brian’s mood. It didn’t seem to do much good at all.

It looked as though more salt tears had begun flooding his cheeks, leaving darkened trails containing eyeliner in their paths; the skin providing those paths was now flushed a deep, cherry red tint.

Shaking his head slightly, Jimmy gazed toward his stocky friend, the look on his face seeming to communicate something along the lines of “it won’t do any good”. After a moment, the eldest member of their small group placed a reassuring hand on the upset man’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it, Syn… We’ll get him back. We’re gonna get him back.” Jimmy spoke, resting his crystal eyes on that of the broken up boy.

Letting out a slight cough, Brian hunched over and buried his face in his palms as what seemed to be a quieted sob escaped his lungs.

“You know him, Jim… You know h-how he is, he’s got to be so scared… s-so afraid…” the right-handed guitarist murmured, earning a nod from his lanky friend. “On top of that, he’s hurt… his wing, it’s wounded.”

At this, Matt and Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “But how—“ Jimmy began, curious, though he was immediately cut off by a rather frantic Brian.

“The other night, when you dropped us off, I took Z out to the dock by the shore, and on the way back, some man tried to rob us… we didn’t have anything, and he was going to kill me, but Zacky—Zacky stopped him… he got shot in the process, his wing…” the spike-haired boy rambled, quickly becoming worried as he recalled how tender how love’s wings were, how easy it had been to hurt him.

“Bri, Bri, calm down… I don’t think they’d hurt him…” Matt spoke softly, earning a frightened expression from the man seated beside him.

Just as Brian began to speak in turn, though, the officer that they all so dreaded returned, a hard expression on his face.

“Which one of you kids wants to go in first?” he asked stonily, his grim eyes probing each of them. He didn’t seem the least bit sympathetic toward the fact that the second oldest boy seemed to be in a state of hysteria, and this irked the others slightly. After a moment, though, Jimmy raised a hand up, sighing heavily.

“I’ll go.” he spoke plainly, throwing one last anxious glance toward his friends as the man nodded curtly and began leading him down the hallway, off to yet another new part of
the station.

Now, the tears leaking from Brian’s eyes had ceased, and he was sitting up straight in his seat—Matt got the feeling that it was because the slightly older man was afraid to appear weak before the bull-headed policeman.

“Bri… Syn?” Matt spoke carefully—he didn’t know his friend would react to his new nickname quite yet, but as Brian turned back toward him to speak, raising an eyebrow, Matt smiled.

“Shads?” the shaken up boy spoke, cracking the smallest of smiles. While he liked his new surname, he wasn’t used to being called by it just yet.

Shrugging his shoulders, Matt reached out a hand, no longer speaking, but offering comfort in the only way he could see fit.

Cautiously, Brian nodded and took a hold of the hazel-eyed vocalist’s hand, smiling weakly in thanks. The contact was awkward—Matt wasn’t Zacky, and that was very obvious—but Brian couldn’t say that he didn’t appreciate the gesture.

The two of them sat together, anxious as they waited, wondering what the uniformed man could possibly be asking of Jimmy, until 30 minutes had passed, and finally, the same officer returned with Jimmy in tow.

This time, as the officer prompted one of either Matt or Brian to follow him, Matt offered himself up, allowing Brian to stay for another few moments and talk things over with their boney friend.

During the time that the hazel-eyed boy was gone with the man, though, the remaining two didn’t dare say much—the younger man almost didn’t want to ask his friend what the officer wanted from them, and Jimmy didn’t seem to be too keen on sharing without a prompt.

And eventually, after another thirty, thirty-five minutes, the middle aged policeman brought Matt back out, and it was Brian’s turn to be led back anyhow.

Needless to say, the pat on the back he received from Jimmy as well as Matt’s reassuring glance did little to calm his nerves.

After standing before the officer, Brian was lead down the hall further and around yet another corner, where he found there to be two separate rooms—one, the interrogation room he was sure to be entering, and the other, something that looked to be a restroom.

Where were they holding Zack? he thought to himself as the officer opened up the door to the interrogation cell and led him inside.

The uniformed man gestured to a chair that sat on one side of a metal table, and suddenly, Brian felt as though he were a part, a character of an installment of CSI.

“Name?” the man asked firmly as the 18-year-old sat cautiously, hands wringing around and around the articles of clothing that they held.

“Brian Haner Jr…” the brown-eyed boy spoke, scrunching his face up at having to use his full name. The officer seemed amused at this.

“Good. What are your friends’ names?” he asked, the smirk on his face taut as he analyzed something that he seemed to have written down on the clipboard he held.

“Jimmy—well, James Sullivan… and Matt…” Brian pondered a moment, shaking
his head. “I don’t know his last, we only met today…”

The man nodded once again. “Good.” he spoke plainly, writing down something more.

Good? Brian thought to himself. What was this, some sort of quiz?

And that was exactly what it seemed to be, as the questions went on—every one having to do with trifling, unimportant information that had nothing to do with why they were here. Things such as “When were you born?” and “What high school did you graduate
from?”

It was beginning to agitate the young guitarist, as these tactics had gone on for some 20 minutes now.

The next question, however, not only agitated Brian, but hit a raw nerve; a nerve that had been sizzling since he had arrived here. It made him realize again why he was here.

“Where is your family?” the officer muttered, looking very bored by this point. At this,
something inside of the shaken young man snapped.

“Mom… deceased. Dad… he’s a fugitive—we don’t have any form of contact. And siblings..? The only sibling I ever had is deceased as well. She was murdered and raped.” Brian spat, standing from the chair that he had been sitting in since he’d arrived in this room. “Zack—the boy that you took away from me, the boy that your goons tied up like some kind of animal—he is my family. He’s my entire life. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d really like to know where you’re keeping him.”

The words came in a rush, all at once as Brian stood, expression angry. The officer, however, simply raised an eyebrow.

“You really want to see that freak? The one we took in to control?” he snapped back, his eyes containing some sort of disgusted tinge. This only pushed Brian further.

Hot tears swelled up in his simmering chocolate eyes and plunged over his cheeks as he nodded, taking a heated step toward the man and clenching his fists. “Yes, I do. He’s my boyfriend, he doesn’t need to be controlled because he’s not hurting anyone, and he is not a freak.” the younger of the two spoke through clenched teeth, this time, earning an annoyed scoff from the man before him.

However, as Brian took another step forward, about to right out deck the officer, the hardened, uniformed man nodded. “Well, alright then. Let’s go, you can stay here with your boyfriend if you want to see him so badly.” he scoffed once again, waving the obviously aggravated young man toward the door. “You may wanna get around to givin’ your friends out there a good farewell too, who knows when they’ll decide what to do with that thing.”

As he followed the man though, the guitarist’s expression softened despite the obscene remark, to one of determination rather than anger, and his heart thudded rather nervously in his chest.

The expressions on Matt and Jimmy’s faces as their friend was lead back down the hall were nothing short of shocked, upon seeing the second-oldest man—Brian looked more so distressed than when he’d gone in. Had the policeman questioned him differently than he had the two of them?

His face was now flushed, more so than it had been before, and the tears had returned, burning hot trails into his skin once again.

At first, they reached toward him, meaning to console their friend, but faltered back silently as Brian shot them a desperate glance that clearly said “wait.”

“No goodbyes, huh?” the officer chuckled humorlessly, shaking his head out of what seemed to be something like disbelief.

Ignoring this as well, the spike-haired man shrugged, watching the area around him as the uniformed tyrant led him down another hallway, one that seemed to be full of holding cells.

All of the cells were barred; that is, except for one, at the very end of this hall. This was the cell that they came to stand before.

With the sight of the metal, windowless door, Brian’s heart pounded erratically, uneasily in his chest.

Swiftly, the officer whipped out a ring full of keys, something that looked like Brian might see in a jailbreak movie. Perhaps, he thought, that was going to be the kind of situation he became involved in. The older man shuffled through the keys until he found what must’ve been the correct one, and then reached to slide it into the lock with a click.

However, the arrogant authority figure didn’t open the door, but turned back to the young boy tailing him after unlocking the large, metal gate.

“Go ahead, knock yourself out.” he spat coldly, extracting the key and rapping a fist against the cold metal before whirling around, retreating in the direction that they had come.

Sighing, Brian narrowed his eyes, watching after the crass man a moment before turning back to the door, softening his expression.

What was he to expect?

After a moment of consideration, the anxious man leaned forward, pressing an ear to the thick metal. He could hear nothing from the other side.

Letting go yet another gentle sigh, he pulled back from the door, placing his hand flat against the cold surface before moving it downward, to the right to grip the handle.

This was the only way he would know what lingered on the other side of this barrier. Push, Brian willed himself, just push.

After another few deep breaths, the skeptical 18-year-old did manage that feat—however, what he found on the other side was far more, far worse than he had expected.