Adopted by Phan

Chapter 62

Phil's P.O.V.

We were back in the same room as the past few days, answering the same questions over and over again and every time we had to answer the same thing. We didn't know.

Dan was numb. He sat in the same chair for hours, staring at the same point on the wall and biting his fingernails. I could tell he wasn't listening to anything anyone was saying, even after I called his name several times he still hadn't moved so I was on the verge of physically shaking him before he replied.

"Hmmmm?" His eyes finally clicked with mine and I saw complete dissasotiation, he looked blank and numb.

"Dan? You need to stay focused okay, I know it's hard." His chest heaved and he looked like he was about to cry, blinking back tears. His hands were already shaking and I knew he was terrifed, every feeling welling up inside all at once.

Just as I wrapped him up into a hug the door opened behind us and I saw Officer Briny walk in, a stack of paper in his hand and a frown on his face.

"Hey guys... I know you're upset but we've got a few leads now, so I think you might want to know." Dan looked up, tears still stinging in his eyes.

"They've used camears to follow the car they got into, it headed right out to edge of the city. We sent out some cars out to search around Birmingham and around the outskirt, they've narrowed down the area to like, 100 kilometers of road plus sideroads and stuff. The car never appeared in the next town." Dan sniffled, leaning his head down onto my shoulder.

"Do you reckon we'll find her?" It was barely even a whisper and he sounded so weak, like he couldn't even bare to think about what the other option was. But then again, neither could I.

"I think so."

Jay's P.O.V.

It was cold. Far too cold to be natural and I knew at once that it wasn't the weather in play. My arms were covered in goose bumps, the hair on my arms standing on end, the tips of my fingers white and my lips completely numb. I was shivering so badly I couldn't even stand and I was curled up on the mattress, my knees tucked into my chest in desperation, trying not to freeze.

My throat was closing up from the lack of moisture in the air and I could see my breath in the air around me, white smoke emitting from my mouth and slightly warming the frigid air surrounding me. My short hair, which was still cropped close to my head around the sides wasn't doing anything to help me and I felt myself desperately thinking I shouldn't have cut my hair, as it might have provided some sort of comfort.

My eyes opened to the writing scrawled across the wall, my messy and rushed handwriting carved into the wall with rough edges and the stone used to write it was somewhere on the floor, I couldn't see in the dark. The light at the window had long faded and I knew it ment that another day had passed, maybe two if I hadn't been paying attention, which I hadn't.

I blew on my fingers in an attempt to warm them, unable to move or feel them any longer. My thin t-shirt wasn't doing much to block the cold, I guessed it was somewhere between 5 and 10 degrees as I lay there and I was in no way prepared for the cold.

I had survived cold nights before out on the streets, in the middle of winter but then I had had a sleeping bag with me and someway of keeping warm. The majority of winter nights I had had a roof over my head, but there were times when I ventured out on my own and really regretted it later.

Trying to get my stiff and frozen muscles to cooperate I sat up, pulling myself shakily to my feet and wandered back and forth across the room, my feet creating a steady rhythm as I tried to stay warm. The bruises that lingered on my skin only added to the pain of the cold and as I walked, the pain slowly grew.

I wasn't sure how long I paced, hours at least but when the warm rays of sunlight started to appear in the window and gave me some hope, the temperature started to rise. My body was wrecked, my muscles weak and the purple and blue spots on my skin had grown steadily bigger, my movement inflaming them. An hour later and could feel my fingers again, although the tips had black spots covering them and they were still mostly numb.

Turning, I could read the writing on the wall with some clarity for the first time since I had written the words and my eyes scanned them, hoping they would never come to any use.

I'm not sure what day it is. Two? Three days gone? I can't see anymore, the only light I get is natural and that's long gone.

My name is Jay White, I'm 15 years old and I live in London. I know my father is responsible for this, Javen White, I've seen him briefly.

I thought back to when I had seen him, just before the temperature had dropped. He had opened the door at the top of the stairs, flooding the room with light and just stood there. He had changed. He no longer looked like the father figure I had known him as years ago, rather a thin and grumpy looking old man, someone you might have known as a grandfather if you really hated him.

He had stood there for a few minutes before turning and leaving, slamming the door and leaving me in silence and a little bit stunned. I hadn't expected to see him in any state except angry, but that proved me wrong.

I continued reading.

I know he's responsible for the entire mess that is my life, but at least I had some sort of solitude. Dan, Phil, if you guys ever read this, thank you. You gave me a place I could call home, a place where I didn't have to worry about the next meal, where I would sleep or if anyone new would turn up.

The next part was scribbled out, I had tried to write something and then backtracked, realising that the wall could only hold so much writing.

I don't know if I'm making it out of here alive, so if not, this is the proof. I was here, I know who did it. I know what he's done before, he did it again. Make sure he can't do this to anyone else, I don't want anyone to have seen what I did.

I had finished with a looping signature, signing my name as Jay. I wasn't going back to my past, leaving my dead name along with everything else my father tore apart for me.

My life had become something of circle now, I had started with my father, left for the streets, then had some time with a bit of peace and once again I was back in the monster's den. A full, complete circle.

Finally, I was content with what I had given. If I didn't make it out, I would go in peace.