Dire Situations

By the time they arrived on the scene police cars were already there, their lights flashing. It was clear they had only just arrived.

Bradley’s heart was racing, it had been since he’d talked to Ben, it had been since he’d learned what was going on and the moment he could, he left the car and ran onto the scene, being met by a police officer’s hand. He had already forgotten he had felt bad at all over the past days. “Tell me what’s going on, please.”

“There’s a problem regarding a gang, sir, better stay back,” he spoke and as Bradley looked up he could see that police officers were still fighting to get the ‘gang’ cuffed and into the cars. Searching around more, his eyes suddenly fell on Ben, who was lying on the ground, officers kneeling beside him. What was happening? His heart sunk–

Tom joined him and Bradley pointed at Ben. “That’s my friend, I need to get to him,” and with that he pushed through and ran into the scene.


It took ages for him to finally have the courage to sit up in bed and when he’d accomplished it he found that his pounding headache and protesting stomach weren’t all just an aftermath of a bad dream, but a very real consequence of having been drunk out of his mind.

He had kissed Bradley carefully, before getting up to get to the shower. He felt disgusting. He ended up sitting down in the bathtub while showering himself and washing as properly as he could with the little energy he had. Drying off took him nearly twenty minutes and with the towel wrapped around him he dressed in Bradley’s room, where he stole one of Bradley’s shirts. His own was unfortunately covered in vomit.

Somehow he’d ended up in Bradley’s bed, but the memory was only slowly recollecting.

“I’m going downstairs,” he whispered softly to Bradley, who was still sleeping. Colin didn’t have the heart to wake him up, in case he was feeling even half as bad as Colin was. He figured he was used to feeling nauseous and he was certainly used to headaches. He had his medicine here, anyway. Tom had told him that he shouldn’t have to bother with carrying it around everywhere and he should just put some in the bathroom here, since he was spending so much time here anyway. Colin was thankful he’d listened or he would’ve been without.

Once downstairs, after taking a substantial amount of painkillers and throwing one of Bradley’s thick jumpers around him, against the shivers, he looked around. It was silent, but when he peeked into the living room he saw Tom, reading some kind of book.

“Morning…” Colin muttered, perfectly aware that it was two o'clock in the afternoon.

Tom awoke to the feeling of discomfort, inducted by the feeling of hardness against his back and a coldness against his skin. His eyes opened and they blinked.

He felt hazy, almost as if he had been drugged, but the fright the sight of a seemingly endless forest had given him was enough to jolt him out of his haze and push himself up.

Even though he had no clue how he had gotten there, he knew – as if a voice in his mind told him – what he was doing there. He was fighting, he was surviving. His clothes told him that. The feeling of being watched told him that. The flask, knife, rope, sleeping bag, nutrition bars and blanket told him that.

Rising, he scanned the environment. What was he fighting? What was he doing? What was going to happen to him? Was he alone? – His questions were soon vaguely answered by a voice, sounding much like a TV game-host, who explained that there were many in here and only one coming out. Death was going to be the thing stopping them.

He walked after that news, he walked for what seemed like hours and he only had the sun to tell him what kind of time in the day it was, which terrified him. He could scream as loud as he wanted now, but he had no voice. He had no say. Nobody would listen. He didn’t even feel like he had time to crawl up in a ball and cry now, though, even though that was what he wanted. He wanted Chris, Ben, Jude… he wanted everyone close to him, he wanted to be told he was going to be alright– A sound seemed to echo through the trees, different to the one that had sounded overhead and had turned out to be the voice, the host of this sickening play– and it had his heart racing and suddenly his feet were picking up speed, running directly away from the sound he had heard. What if that was the first thing trying to get him? What if someone was trying to get him.


He was glad when the car ride was over and he could finally sit down on Tom’s sofa. He was completely exhausted, but at least he didn’t have to be sick in an empty house.

“Thanks,” he said softly, while slowly lying down on the couch and attempting to calm down. He needed a shower, and a fresh change of clothes, but he couldn’t be asked right now. First he’d sit through this wave of exhaustion.