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Andrew's skin hasn't been kissed with sunlight for days. He's been keeping track in his head: six. A lot could happen in six days, a lot could happen in six minutes.
One to run from the van to the front door.
One to be greeted by Arabella.
One to walk inside.
One to get locked in.
One to be ushered around by Nigel.
One to be knocked unconscious.
Six minutes of his life, over before he knew it. They moved faster than a speeding car his uncle used to fine when he was as old as Andrew was, and those six minutes were never coming back.
Six days spent in darkness, barely seeing his tied-up body as his head hung low, the only feelings he had being the scratchy rope Nigel tied him up with and the emptiness of his stomach. Just like yesterday, and the days before that. Six days of the same darkness so familiar to him, he could recognize it from any darkness.
The days all began to blend after a while. They consisted of the same darkness. The same rope. The same hunger.
He held out hope every single day that his uncle would find him. Once Andrew was in Nigel's possession, the whole drug ring relocated. "By revealing yourself to us, you also revealed that the police knew our location, we had to make sure they couldn't find us. So, thank you, cadet!" Nigel said, pinching Andrew's cheek like he was a little kid, only harder. "You saved us all so much trouble!"
It was Andrew's fault the sting operation was set backward. Uncle Sam and his work buddy were never getting promoted now, but even worse, they were never stopping Nigel.
Some days, Nigel would come down to where Andrew was being kept away, just to taunt him. They were the only days he heard a human voice. Those were the only days he saw a little glimmer of light before being overtaken by Nigel's menacing shadow. Those were the only days he felt anything but rope and hunger. He loved those days for all the wrong reasons.
Today was one of those days.
The door opened, bringing light into the otherwise pitch-black room. Andrew enjoyed the look of the hard concrete floor for as long as he could before he couldn't see it anymore, the gangly shadow covering it up. He looked away.
There was a new sound today. Clink. Clink. Clink. A vision flashed through Andrew's mind of a crowbar slapping against Nigel's hand, ready to fuck him up. The familiar sound of Nigel's slow brooding footsteps began, joined hand-in-hand with the anxiety building up inside Andrew. Most people hated that feeling. Once upon a time, Andrew did too, but he grew to love it, even if only because it was a feeling he didn't feel as often as he felt his skin being torn away by the fibers of the rope. It was a feeling that distracted him from the pain of his wrists, or his aching stomach.
Clink. Clink. The door shut behind him. The darkness returned.
Andrew blinked away tears. He couldn't let Nigel see him cry.
Too late. "Aw, what's the matter, little cadet?" he asks, his condescending tone oozing out of every word.
Andrew sniffles, lowering his voice as deep as he can. "Nothing."
Nigel scoffs. The clinking stops as his footsteps grow louder until Andrew can feel the Oxbridge alumni's presence next to him. He hides his face as best as he can.
"It'll all be over soon. Right?" Nigel says as he pinches Andrew's chin between his fingers, forcing him to face his kidnapper. "Isn't that what you're telling yourself?"
Andrew nods. "The Manchester Police Force will find you. They'll find you and-and they'll throw you all away!"
Nigel gasps. "Oh dear! Not the- not the- not the police! Oh no, what will I do?" he mocks, letting go of Andrew's chin. The cadet's head zips straight to the ground.
Nigel takes his seat right behind Andrew. He rests his chin on his shoulder. "Do you think," he pauses, whispering right in Andrew's ear, "that if they really wanted you back," he pauses again, his arm running up Andrew's, "they would have found you by now?"
Andrew shakes his head. Nigel's response and self-reassurance in one gesture.
Nigel had tried to get in Andrew's head every single time he was down here. It almost always worked. Today, day six, Andrew is struggling. Nigel's whispers made his body squirm, the feeling of his arm not helping. But he was feeling. Nigel was helping him feel.
"It took them weeks to find your old location. It'll take them just as long to find the new one. You're a really good criminal."
"Thank you so much!" Nigel responds cheerfully, making Andrew feel stupid for saying what he said. "I try my best."
What would Uncle Sam do if he were in this situation? That was the question Andrew spent these past six days wondering. He imagined Uncle Sam throwing his head back and breaking the criminal's nose, escaping without even being untied, because that was how awesome his uncle is. He looked up to him his whole life, hoping that one day, he'd be a police officer just like him. That dream will probably never come true now.
Yes, it will.
Just like he imagines his uncle doing, he throws his head back, hoping to hit Nigel's nose. He misses completely. The feeling of foolishness takes no time to arrive.
He'll never be his uncle.
Nigel's laugh is as brooding as his footsteps, as posh as his voice, as menacing as his shadow. It sends chills down Andrew's spine. Another feeling. He tries again to repress his tears.
Clink. Clink. Clink. "Oh, cadet." Nigel leans next to Andrew again, this time on his right, as he holds up his hand. "Do you know what this is?"
"I can't see, it's too fucking dark in here!"
Nigel gently presses the item into Andrew's tied hands. It was circular. Metal. He runs his finger over it, tracing whatever he feels. His mental image became clearer and clearer. "A coin?"
"What kind?"
"Uh...," he traces some more, "A- oh, a penny."
"Excellent job." The cold feeling of the copper coin is gone. Clink. Clink. "One pence, this little thing is worth. What can one pence get you, cadet?"
"Nothing."
"Exactly." He pauses, and the clicking stops. Nigel holds the penny up to himself. "Technically, a penny had value, but ask anyone, and they'll all say the same thing you just said to me. That I'm good at being a criminal, and that a penny matters no more than spat out gum laying on the busy streets."
Andrew doesn't respond. Nigel brushes his hair back.
"You're my penny now, cadet."
Andrew holds his breath, afraid of what's to come next.
But that's it. Nigel stands up from his chair, flips his coin, and makes his way towards the exit. "I hope you've made yourself comfortable, penny. Your oh-so-scary police force will never find you here. Or did you already figure that out?"
The door opens. Andrew enjoys the light. It shuts again.
He didn't know which was worse: cadet or penny. He doesn't know why it always slips his mind to tell Nigel his name. Maybe it's all the feelings he's giving him. All the distractions from the pain and the hunger. The numbness Andrew has been feeling.
Six days of numbness.
A lot could happen in six days.