Trigger Warning: Panic attack

Three weeks passed. Remington didn't leave the house and the forest surrounding. He couldn't sleep, and at night, he held the chain to his chest and rubbed the ring as though it could cast a spell that would fix everything that was wrong. 

When the people came to demolish the house, he escaped out the back, grasping the chain so tightly that it dug into his palm painfully. He didn't know where to go, and for a while, he hid behind a tree and watched them, trying not to sob when the roof caved in and everything inside was smothered in bricks and rotting wood and flying dust. 

He sunk to the damp, muddy ground and kept listening to the crashes and shouts, rubbing the ring manically. One particularly loud bang caused him to scramble to his feet and stumble further away, until he met the road where Andy had found him. He sat down on the grassy bank and suddenly realised that somewhere in his panic, the belt chain had slipped from his hold. He checked the ground around him before beginning to crawl back the way he came, catching his knees and palms on sharp stones. 

He was almost back at the house when a pair of brown boots was in front of him, and he looked up at the stranger, who was wearing a hardhat and a bright yellow jacket. The colour made him squint. 

"Uh, sir?" The stranger said. "Are you...okay?" 

Remington continued searching the ground for the chain. 

"What happened to your clothes? Are you a homeless person?"  

A hand on his shoulder made Remington stop. He sat back on his feet and in a rush of anger and fear, spat, "You knock my house down! Evil!" 

"Your house? Sir, this house has been abandoned for more than thirty years. Have you been squatting here? You know that's illegal, right?" 

"You evil! Get away!" 

"I'm gonna need you to come with me." 

Remington scrambled off the ground. "I find chain," he said desperately. 

"Please come with me." 

"No! Chain! I find chain!" He set off running, casting his eyes over the ground, screaming when he was caught. "Evil!" He shouted, tears hot on his face. "Evil! Get back! I find chain! I find chain! Get back! Evil!" 

"You can't squat in abandoned buildings, it's against the law. We're going to the police station." 

Remington didn't know what half the words meant but he knew they weren't good. He kept screaming and thrashing as two more men helped drag him towards one of the vans. In the back seat, they shoved him in, ordering him to be quiet before slamming the door. He tried to open the door and get out, but it wouldn't open, and soon, the vehicle was moving. 

For the entirety of the journey, Remington kicked helplessly at the door and the seat in front of him, screaming every time the man beside him grabbed his shoulders to keep him down. He couldn't breathe. 

The police station was large and intimidating and Remington was forced into a cell, where he crumpled to the cold ground and cried, rubbing the ring almost violently. He felt sick and like the inside of his head was alight with blue flame. 

There was no way to get out, no way to make them understand that it was his house and they had taken it and that now he had nothing, not even the belt chain. He screamed and screamed, making his head worse, yanking on the bars until he gave himself blisters, and still, no one came to let him out. 

He couldn't understand what they were going to do to him or why he was there, what he'd done wrong. He wanted Andy to explain it to him because Andy knew how to make things make sense, but Andy wasn't there, and he'd lost the chain, and his home was now a pile of rubble. Everything he knew, everything he had known his entire life, was under a pile of rubble. 

Clawing at the ground, he begun to gasp and pant, and when an officer came to the cell and asked for his name, he started to beg for Andy, repeating in a choked voice, "Andy makes me safe," the officer having trouble understanding, and each time she asked for his name, Remington got louder, until he was yelling. 

"Who's Andy?" She tried instead, adding, "Take some deep breaths to calm down."

He took in heavy breaths. "Andy makes me safe," he said again. 

"What's his surname?" 

"I find chain." 

"What's your name, sir?" 

"Andy makes me safe." 

"There are a lot of Andy's around. We need a last name." 

"He has all pictures on him." 

"Tattoos?" 

"One for his wife, but she not his wife no more. He turned gay so they say goodbye." 

"What was his wife called?" 

Remington pulled himself off the ground with the bars and knelt against the metal, kept taking deep breaths. "I think Juliet but I not sure. He say they still friends. I not know her." 

"Okay. Do you want some water while you wait?" 

He nodded and sat against the wall beside the bars as she left, rubbing the ring until she returned with a plastic cup of water and a piece of paper. Remington gulped down the water and said, "More." 

"I'll get you more in just a second. Can you tell me if this is the right Andy?" She turned the paper towards him, and on it was a printed photo of the man. 

"Andy!" Remington exclaimed, reaching for the paper. 

"We'll call Andy in to come and talk to us, okay? You need to stay here and be nice and quiet while we sort this all out. Can you do that?" 

"Okay, but more water first." He gave her the cup in exchange for the photograph, which he pressed to his chest. 

When he was given the drink, he sipped it and kept taking deep breaths, putting the picture of Andy beside him and pretending that the man was really there.