bamboo doesn't grow in dark spaces. [80K Words / Complete]

chapter two.

Movement. The familiar bump and sway of being a passenger in his parents' car. His brain swirled in his skull like the die inside a Magic 8 Ball. Case jerked awake – or into some semblance of consciousness – as the car went off-road, bouncing over the terrain and slowing to a stop.

His insides churned. Case groaned involuntarily, the swirl of hangover and motion-sickness creating the worst wave of nausea.

A large hand pressed against the back of his neck. The contact made Case dry-retch. He hadn't mustered the strength to open his eyes but he reached out to grab some kind of support. His hand found something plastic. He gripped hard, bracing. His breathing came out hard and deep, as it always did when he was about to vomit.

"Head down."

The deep-toned voice cut through Case's mental fog. The man, he was here. His hand on Case's neck, a nudge guiding him to face down.

A small whimper escaped Case's lips.

An electric whir happened either side of him, followed by a cool breeze caressing the side of his cheek. He could smell fresh air, feel sunshine – his skin too hot and sticky with sweat. With those small realizations, more details came to him.

He was sitting up. Seatbelt strapped across his chest, digging into the exposed skin on his neck. The thing he was holding for support must have been an armrest. It was a car door.

Why wasn't he tied up in the trunk? Wasn't that where kidnappers put their victims?

"Afternoon, Officer."

"Just a standard drug and alcohol test."

Case's heart leaped. A person – their voice faraway and slightly dim through his confusion, but a person nonetheless. A fucking policeman.

"Have you had anything to drink today?"

"No, sir."

"Taken any illicit substances in the last 72 hours?"

The man chuckled, affable. "No, Officer. Certainly no."

He's lying! Case thought, his mind desperate and shouting. But he couldn't get the words to form in his mouth. Test me! Fucking test me, see what he did to me!

"Blow into this until I say stop."

A monotone beep, counting the beats as the man blew into the breathalyzer.

Snap out of it, Case told himself. Mind clear and firm but trapped in a non-responsive body. You need to say something. Do something! Quick!

He raised his head. Too heavy, it lolled back and hit the headrest. Moaning, panting, he cracked open his eyes. Daylight glared back. He squinted, a reflex.

"Nnng . . ." Breathe, breathe. It came out a long, slow moan but he managed one syllable: "No."

"You alright back there, son?" the policeman asked.

"Hh-hlp." Breathe. Swallow. His mouth was sandpaper dry. He gasped, "Help."

"Here," the man soothed. "Have this."

An open bottle pressed against Case's lips. He tried to jerk away, but the bottle followed him, pushing its way in. Water poured into his mouth, flowing until it spilled down his chin and he was forced to swallow. Suddenly, Case was aware of how badly his dehydrated body craved water. He swallowed more, guzzling it down until his belly swelled like a water balloon.

Too much. It didn't want to stay down.

Convulsion ran up through his body. Choking, sputtering until the man pulled the bottle away.