stockholm syndrome - tracob

seven

"He wants to fucking what?" Curt said through his teeth. He had decided to come back from his other business to check on how things were going, and now this? The man looked down for a short second, took a deep breath and repeated what he had said. Curt sank back into his chair and sighed. "Well fuck," he said. "Fuck. That's unexpected. Maybe the kid was right after all." He looked up. "Get the fuck out and tell Jacob to get his arse over here," he then said. The man nodded his head and scurried out of the room, in search for Jacob. Curt allowed himself to show his concerns for the few seconds he was alone. He rubbed his eyes and rested his head in his hands. "Well shit," he muttered again.

"What's up? He said it was urgent," Jacob said. He had soft pink cheeks because of the cold outside. "I was on my break. Good to have you here again though." Jacob smiled a bit. He missed Curt every time when he had to leave. He didn't mind having to be in charge, it was just nicer if Curt was there to back him up. Actually, it was just nice to have Curt there. Mostly.

"He wants to fucking negotiate about the amount," Curt said. Jacob froze slightly. Troye's dad didn't want to pay? "Don't you think that's odd? Maybe there is more behind it, like he wants to trace us or something. Negotiating means having contact, so they probably think they can catch us if we do indeed allow them to reach out to us..." Curt trailed off. "What do you think?"

Jacob let out a puff of breath, surprised Curt asked him for his opinion. "I don't know. I mean, Troye did say something about this, didn't he? What if his dad really does think two mill is too much? Troye didn't look at all too... Sad in the picture..." This time it was Jacob who trailed off as he thought back to the picture. Shit. Hadn't Troye been showing that cute soft smile? What if... He voiced his thoughts out loud.

"Ridiculous. His dad would never think something like that of his own son. Would he?" Curt tapped his chin. "Hm. We have to be very careful. Any decision we make right now could actually be fatal." Jacob scratched his head.

"What if they really do think this though? Like, I know it's a small chance, but what if he suspects his son of setting this all up just to get some money? I don't know, maybe Troye is a very greedy person." This sounded odd, even when Jacob didn't really know Troye it didn't seem to fit in with the rest of his character.

"He doesn't seem like a stuck up little shit, if I'm honest. Seems like a pretty normal guy."

"He did smile in the picture though," Jacob retorted. "Maybe he doesn't mind being here all that much." Curt nodded, then he grinned.

"Well, let's go ask him shall we?"

-

Troye felt odd. He didn't know exactly what it was, he just knew that he was feeling... uneasy. And not because of the situation was in, although that could be one of the causes. His stomach was just so... He didn't know how to put it. He wanted to go home, to get out of this chair, to be able to move around or just lay down. He wanted to eat something, he wanted to drink, he wanted something to take his mind of this dull nothingness which his days had turned in to. But most of all... Troye eyed the toilet. When was the last time he had... Pooped?

The toilet was gross and it barely flushed – Troye was grateful it had a lid, otherwise the stench of pee would've been even worse by now. He didn't recall pooping however, and although it seemed like something petty, his stomach was really starting to hurt right now.

He recognized noises outside of the room indicating someone had come upstairs. It wasn't very loud since the walls were pretty thick, but the room was deafening silent and Troye had trained himself the past few days to notice it if someone was coming up the stairs – which he had figured must have been right around the corner – and towards the door.

Because they always came right inside when they came upstairs, and he never heard them going around and about doing something else while they were upstairs, he figured he –

His thoughts were rudely interrupted as the door slammed open.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" Curt said. If Troye hadn't been so distracted because of his problem he would've laughed at the saying, which seemed to come right of a very predictable movie. This wasn't a movie however. In a movie they never spoke about how much the characters had to poop. Troye stifled a groan.

"I have to poop," he then blurted out. "Real bad. Like, I've had to since the last few days but you guys never gave me any privacy and now it's really starting to hurt and I want to poop but I don't want to do it here because the toilet doesn't flush that well and it's already bad enough to have to take in the pee stench every time I go and pee but I just – "

Curt and Louis had stopped in their tracks, obviously not expecting this. Then Jacob nudged Curt. "He has to poop," Jacob said.

"I heard that the first time he said it himself," Curt snapped. "How do we know it's not just an attempt to escape?" He eyed Troye warily.

"Because maybe he just really has to poop," Jacob chimed in. "I also wouldn't be able to poop if my kidnappers never gave me my very much needed toilet time." Curt sighed deeply.

"Fine. I'll have one of the men pick up some laxatives on their way. In the meantime however..." he took a step closer to Troye and the boy cringed without wanting to. The man just... Really got to him.

"Why doesn't your dad want to pay what we said he should?" he said to Troye.

"What?" Troye said, his eyes going wide. "He's really not going to- "

"Oh don't play the victim here." Troye blinked.

"Technically, Curt," Jacob started but he stopped when Curt put his hand up.

"Don't try to play smart with me here, Jay," he said. Then he turned to Troye. "Your daddy," he spat out, "doesn't want to pay the amount. No. Instead, he wants to negotiate." He made a grossed out face. Troye didn't say anything. Instead he just got very white. "Oh don't look so shocked," Curt said. "You already said it beforehand didn't you? That daddy didn't love you enough to pay that much?" Troye didn't reply.

"Curt," Jacob said, sounding concerned. "I don't think that's why he's not saying anything." He walked towards the boy. "Troye, mate, you alright there?"

"Yeah," Troye brought out. "Just a lot of pain... In my... Stomach," he brought out. Jacob sighed.

"He has to poop Curt," he said for the second time.

"Alright, alright, I'll make a call for a laxative right away. We'll be back," Curt replied annoyed. Jacob nodded, relieved and started to untie Troye. "What on earth are you doing? The door is still open!"

"Come on, look at the kid. You really think he's in shape to make a run for it?"

"I do think he could be faking all of this crap, yeah," Curt said.

"Well, I think you're not looking clearly," Jacob said, ignoring the fact Curt had actually used the word crap to assess this situation. By this time he had gotten Troye loose, and Troye immediately slumped in his chair, crossing his arms over his belly and let out a big groan. Jacob shot an annoyed look at Curt and immediately looked away from him again. "See? He didn't even notice your gun." Curt put his pistol back in his jacket and got his cell phone out.

"Fine, fine. You take care of him," he said while already stomping out. "Yeah hey, Richard, go to the store and pick up some laxatives for me would ya. No not for me you dumb idiot, I meant for..." then his voice got too far away to hear.

"Hey," Jacob said while he crunched in front of Troye. "It'll be okay. Shhh. It'll be fine. The pain will be gone soon." Troye nodded with gritted teeth, beads of sweat on his forehead. Jacob shook his head. If only he didn't care about this boy he would've laughed at the whole situation.

Wait. What?