I know Bradan is coming for us. I just didn't think days would pass first. Hours, yeah, maybe. But it's been two days, and we're still here, and I'm still praying we all live until someone comes to get us.
Jordan is the one I'm worried about. Tasmin is in a separate room. Rebecca takes him food and snacks several times a day, and I can faintly make out cartoons playing on something. I'm happy they aren't treating a seven-year-old boy like a prisoner. Tasmin isn't stupid. He knows these are bad people. But I'd rather have him in that room watching cartoons than being tortured out here, tied to a chair.
Glancing across the room, I take in Jordan's blood-soaked clothes. He has deep cuts on his thighs and a stab wound in his shin. His shirt is cut open, and there's slashes and burns al
