There was a moment of shock and burning as the shoddily constructed flap at the bottom of the door was pushed open and a tray of what could almost be described as food was shoved through it, slopping its grey contents over the lip of the plate and skid marking the floor as it came to rest by his head.
The last meal pushed through the hatch had made him terribly sick and he feared this was some part of their plan, whoever they were, to weaken him and make him more susceptible to whatever. He checked the date on his digital watch and concluded it had been just 44 hours before that he had got out of his car to remove a piece of paper stuck to the back window when he had been attacked. He was sure by now there would be a missing persons report filed, but he couldn’t work out who loved him enough to do it.
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