Chapter Six!

{Sorry this was updated a bit later than usual, but I've been really busy with school etc. But I hope you enjoy nevertheless!}

By the end of his shift, Ethan was beginning to get increasingly worried about his brother's whereabouts. Okay, yes Cal was his own person and didn't need checking on twenty four seven, but usually by now he had at least dropped Ethan a quick text to cover for him. And yet, despite the constant checking on his phone, there was nothing at all. Zilch. Zero. Nada.

When he got home that night and there was still no sign that Caleb had entered their flat. For reassurance purposes, he decided to call the police advice hotline, just for reassurance he told himself. So, he placed his bag down in its designated place and pulled out his phone, dialling 101. After what felt like forever, the dialling tone eventually ceased and the operator answered, sounding rather bored as she repeated the mandatory line - "Hello, this is the non-emergency police line for the Holby area. Can I ask why you're calling please?"

"Uh. Hello." Ethan started, "I'm here to.. report a missing person. My brother, Cal - Caleb Knight."

"Right, do you know when was he last seen, or last got in contact with someone?" The operator on the other end asked, and typing could be heard in the background.

"Well, he didn't come home last night after his shift, and then he didn't turn up for work this morning. I've tried calling him multiple times and he hasn't answered. I originally just assumed he had gone home with someone else after going out - he does that often, but he always turns up for work the next day, or at least comes home the next day. He doesn't tend to stay with the same person for too long you see." Ethan soon sound himself rambling.

When he finally cut himself off from his rambling, he was greeted by silence from the other end. That was until it was eventually broken by, "So.. you're saying he goes home with other people a lot?" She asked, reiterating what Ethan had just told her. Ethan nodded, before realising that he was on the phone and the caller couldn't see him

"Yes. yes that's right. But it's not how it sounds. He always comes home or sends me a message to tell me where he is." Ethan hastily replied, feeling the judgement from the caller through the phone.

"Right. Well I would say he has simply got caught up in whatever it is he is doing. If it's not unusual behaviour, then we can't create a case based on a hunch. I'm sorry - call back again if there are any changes or it's been longer than 72 hours." She responded, promptly hanging up the call before Ethan had a chance to explain.

This was 'unusual behaviour', he thought to himself, angry at the call operator. He just knew that there was something wrong with his brother - call it a sixth sense if you will, he just knew that there was something that wasn't quite right with the situation.

Cal woke up suddenly, it took him a moment to realise where he was, because he definitely wasn't under his warm haven of the duvet in his bed. The first thing he felt was pain, and a lot of it. It was coming from his sides - his ribs if he was able to be more specific - which he wasn't, he was too focused on the pain.

After a few moments of haziness, he soon realised where he was and what was happening. He hesitantly looked up to see a body towering over him, a stern looking man he doesn't recognise.

"P-please .. help me … hospital" Cal spoke, struggling to get the words out, too dizzy and dehydrated to form full sentences.

In any other situation, where his mind was more focused and straight, he wouldn't have asked this man for help. Stereotypical and all, but his grim and emotionless features did not give give off the impression that he would be helping Cal any time soon. But he wasn't thinking clearly, and all he wanted was to be out of this dark, dingy room, and quite frankly he was desperate.

"A little birdy told me that you've been stealing off my mate Stevie." He spoke, ignoring Cal's plea. Cal decided not to answer the statement, he didn't physically possess the strength.

"Oi" Kick.

"You answer when you're spoken to" another kick.

"Are you rude as well as a thief?" kick, kick, kick

Cal curled up in pain, well as much as he could - restricted by the ropes on his wrists and ankles, trying to shield himself away from the frequent blows to his chest.

The kicks and punches felt like they would never end. No matter how much he pleaded and cried, the man would not let up on the attack. Eventually though, after what felt to Cal like a few hours, but in reality was probably only fifteen minutes, he ceased, bored of inflicting pain for the moment.

Without another word, he just gave one last hit and left, stalking out the room and leaving Cal alone all bloodied and bruised.

Cal hated this. He hated the pain, hated the not knowing what would happen to him, hated the not knowing if anyone will find him, get him out alive. That was obvious. But he also hated how weak he felt against these men. In a usual situation, Cal was strong, able to stick up for himself as well as others. He has been fighting people his whole life, not letting anyone overpower or control him, well except Connie Beauchamp but that was different - she was his boss, so now, not being able to fight back against this abuse was extremely frustrating.