He started writing stories about them. In the little stationary that was left in the hotel. A shitty pen and some sticky notes, then a few days later he found a whole notebook under the bible. If it came to he could just write there. 

When he first found it...

Or should he scare them he thought. If they were actually watching that would draw them out. He looked around the room, the only vaguely rope like thing was the charger cable, that was flimsy. His shoes laces maybe he could use. He tried to in plain sight pull those...

There was a small part of him. It crept up one morning, that worried he'd die there. Like what are the people doing with him. Before he had been trusting, but now, what if one day they just stop giving him food. 

He got onto the bed, checked the grating...

Everyday there would be food at his door. It varied, sometimes he thought it was very European like bread with some butter and cheese. Other times it was soup and American white bread. Other times still it was a pack of bagels and peanut butter. It was a strange mix....

He shut the blinds, but sat next to the window. From the side he looked out, but there was nothing. He tried opening the window again, but again it wouldn't budge. The light from the parking lot shown into his room, he hadn't noticed before how dark it was. In...

Once he felt like he was alone enough he shook the bag off his head. He was alone, and he was in a hotel room. There were two single beds, and the floor had carpet. Although it wasn't short carpet, but almost shag. Despite this, the place was clean, or...

It was fast but they had a sort of bag over his head. At first he braced like they were going to hurt him but nothing ever came. They had him held on either side, and they guided him toward the building. When he got near the door little rocks...

It wasn't supposed to be that way. He'd tell his wife. He'd really made amends to come back home. Made up his mind. But now as the sound of the road passing under him, as well as his awareness of how tight the rope tying his hands was becoming, he...

There was a rest stop coming up. Approaching. This particular one wasn't busy, a few cars spaced here and there. No one he could see actually in the rest stop. If he and the others were honest it was just a bathroom. He had never seen people hangin out there....

On the radio the detective was reading out his details. Because of the reported missing person, they could do this. Only because of this. The Sargent, his Sargent, was at one point really good. Awards and accolades, promotions, he even ran the whole place at one point. 

But the year...