885 Days [A Vikklan/Sidemen/Pack Story]

Day 731: Harry

23 March 2017

Nothing more was heard for another four months. We got one pitiful update about a burnt out car and jacket, and then there was nothing. It was heart-breaking to see the sudden rise in hope only for it to be completely squashed with a few simple words. Vikk had been healing before but that caused a huge setback that he never really recovered from, and now we were at two years since his disappearance with another vigil, another anniversary, another plea and another day of tears for him.

Given that Ethan and I lived together in the same apartment building, he and I had been hanging out and relying on each other a lot over the last two years, especially in the early days when things were raw and totally uncertain. It had never been easy but two years later the pain had eased slightly. It was easier to pretend that he was gone, no longer suffering, than it was to hope that he would walk through the door one day. For both us and him, it would be easier if he was gone and I know I sounded so selfish and hopeless like that, but it was only the truth.

"Harry?" Ethan's voice echoed through my apartment and I looked up from where I was gathering my things. "You ready?"

"Yeah, I'm ready." I called back, taking one last look around before slinging my backpack over my shoulders. It felt heavy but that was probably due to all of photographs and candles in there, along with a few small things I bought when I saw them because they reminded me of him. I might not have known him that well, having only had a few conversations over Skype and a few in real life in the days before he went missing, but I felt like I knew him. He was the same age as Vikk, so only a little older than me, and I think because of that we had talked more than he had to the other Sidemen.

Ethan gave me a pained smile as I walked over to him, holding a box of candles himself. I sighed.

"It's gonna be a long night, isn't it..." He nodded.

"It is. Just... hold out for today, yeah?" He said, pushing me towards the elevator. "It'll be a difficult day but we'll get through it."

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Vikk was, understandably, a wreck that day. According to Tobi he had hardly been sleeping all week despite his and Rob's best efforts to not push himself, they hadn't been able to do much. He would sneak out of bed and work himself until he passed out just to distract himself from this awful upcoming day.

When Ethan and I arrived I moved and gave Vikk a hug, pulling the shorter boy into my chest. I didn't want to upset him but even that simple gesture began the flow of tears that he had probably been holding in for quite a while. I wiped some of them away, giving him a gentle smile.

"Hey Vikky." He leaned into my touch, sniffling. "It's gonna be okay, yeah?"

"Yeah." He said quietly, rubbing his eyes. Rob came up behind him, giving me a strained smile as well.

"We've got a lot of candles today." Rob said quietly, glancing behind him at the already large pile. All of the boys were here, it was just a matter of someone deciding to start this thing. It would probably be Vikk. The sun was about to set too, and the candles would be lit before then. "They'll be burning for a few hours at least."

I only nodded, placing my box and photographs down. The number of photos had appeared to have been expanded, someone likely having found a long forgotten file on their computer full of photos of the blonde boy. There were quite a few I hadn't seen before and there was one that caught my eyes almost at once. It was a group photo of all the Pack boys, taken on the ski trip a few months beforehand, and they all looked so happy. Mitch was piggybacking Jerome, Preston was dumping a handful of snow over Rob and Lachlan was in the process of playfully pushing Vikk into their snowman. All of them were laughing, smiling, happy.

That night was painful. There were more tears, more burning of candles, but rather than silence like every other time, everyone went around the circle and spoke about something they missed about him. Then we spoke of the happy memories, stupid stories, little anecdotes about their time with him. Vikk certainly had the most stories, followed closely by Rob, but he could barely get most of them out between his tears.

There was only one real story I could give considering I had only met him properly once, and it was on the morning I went missing. I had been over to pick up a camera to film a video when he came down the stairs, having just woken up. He hadn't even noticed me, yawning and rubbing his eyes, but when he was about three steps from the bottom his socks slipped on the carpet and he fell, landing with a thump. He had groaned, I had helped him up and he had thanked me, rubbing his back as he wandered into the kitchen. And that was it. My one real interaction with him, and now he had been gone for two years.

I stayed in the backyard long after everyone else went inside to warm up, sitting on the concrete floor, unable to tear my eyes from the flickering candles. Many of the smallest ones were near burning out but the taller ones would likely burn for hours longer.

Although I wasn't religious, I had prayed a lot in those first few months. I didn't see the point in it anymore. If there really was a god, would they ever have allowed us to go through this? Would they ever have allowed Lachlan to go through this?

731: Lachlan

The chains had come off at some point in those last months, leaving my wrists scarred and my hands basically unusable. My pulling on the chains had created several open wounds all over my skin, and my lack of movement for two years meant I wasn't able to walk more than a few steps before I collapsed. I skinned my knees more than a couple of times trying to walk.

But the removal of the chains came with even more humiliation. Now I could move he dragged me around, made me crawl everywhere, beg like a dog and touch myself, often leaving me crying despite thinking he couldn't get to me anymore. He could. I tried to tune it out, pretend it wasn't happening, but he demanded active participation. He demanded that I be there and remember it all. I couldn't forget it, not anymore. How could I forget all the time he raped me, violated me, humiliated me, dehumanized me?

The thing that got to me the most was his constant gloating. Even with my friends constant pleading, even with the resources of the police, even with my audience and their audiences looking for me, they had managed to find me. It was like a game, he crowed, holding someone with influence. He would never be caught, he boasted, and he would keep me forever.

I could only hope that it wasn't true because at this point, I honestly didn't know.