TW:
-mentions of abuse/blood

(TiMe SkIp)

UNKNOWN'S POV

I've been searching, prowling the city when the sun sets, looking for any clue as to where the scrawny boy has gone.

I go back down the alleys that I've searched so many times before, bored by the scratches on the walls and cigarette buts on the floor. My phone starts ringing, the Game of Thrones tune playing to signal that I've got a call.

"Hello?" I ask.

"I've got something for you." A voice that I recognise as my boss informs clearly, not even greeting me before hand.

"What?" I inquire.

"I've had some of my scouts out, looking for the boy. He's been spotted, in the woods near Mount Vernon. Suspect that the Washington's took the boy in." He said, an accent of amusement present even through the phone.

"When? Why did you tell me this?"

"Well, we both know that nothing comes without a price. I'm thinking of promoting you. But, in return, you bring the boy to me directly. Alive."

"Alive?" I ask hesitantly. "Sir, we said that I was to kill the boy, not capture him and bring him back."

"I know what was said. You will listen to my command, no one else's." He confirms, voice serious yet not violent.

"Fine. I'll check it out."

"Bring him to me. Today." He ends the call, no room for hesitation.

"Fuck." I mumble, kicking a stone as I go. I get into my small car, starting it and turning out to go to Mount Vernon.
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ALEXANDER'S POV

"Dad!" I call, waiting at the bottom of the stairs for him to call back.

"Yes, son?" He shouts gently.

"Can we talk?" I ask him.

"Of course, son. Come to my office." I trot up after him and push the door closed behind me.

"Come, sit." He gestures to the chair and to his knee, giving me a choice- I sit on his knee.

He runs his hand up and down by back, comfortingly kneading the flesh between my shoulder blades.

"What did you want to talk about?" He asks.

"I think I want to see John... Laurens I mean." I mumble, whispering his last name quickly to confirm who I was talking about.

"Are you sure? You don't need to rush this, son." He coos.

"I've been here for months, I haven't rushed anything." I respond.

"If you wish to see him I can invite him over for dinner tomorrow, but make sure that this is what you want- not what you feel you have to do."

I nod my head, with one final:

"I want this."

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NO ONE'S POV

The day became night and strange noises could be heard around the house. The whistling of the wind, a creak from one of the floorboards, the drifting of a door. Alexander lays awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to the unconscious' chorus. The song of the absent. The symphony of all things non-existent.

He lays there, listening to the creaks and whistles, until a quiet but defined 'whoosh' sounds from the front door. Inquisitive, he slips on a pair of socks and pulls a hoodie over his head. His head peaks out from behind his door and he pads down the stairs. Quiet, swift.

He stands at the bottom of the stairs, gazing out into the dark hall, looking for the source of said noise.

"Scream and I'll slit your throat."

A clear murmur arises, and a hand is wrapped around his throat and mouth. His breath caught and his limbs went rigid with fear.

"Speak and I'll skin you alive."

The voice whispers next to his ear, making the hairs on his neck stand on end.

"Move and I'll pierce your heart."

The mysterious voice finally pulls out a syringe, sliding it into the flesh below Alexander's right ear, before pushing in the drug, removing the needle and watching the small speck of blood run down his neck.

"No longer a boy, simply a rag doll." He whispers before Alexander's form goes limp, almost hitting the floor before said voice catches him and throws him over his shoulder.

Well, my dear readers, I'm afraid that's not very good.