By Rubber Dog
Cold, and with a desperate panic, the boy jolted back awake. He heard his breath, course ragged breaths. Darkness. Cold and damp. A hard floor, his body aching from laying on it. His skin was cold. He propped himself up with his arms, his hands feeling a tiled floor, he turned his head side to side. Looking. Nothing. Panicked. Where was he? He’d been knocked out, but where was he now?
Why did he feel so cold? He moved one hand to his jeans pocket, but just hit skin. He was naked. Cold and naked laying on a hard tiled floor, in complete darkness, his head still spinning and clouded from whatever had been on the rag.
He sat up, drew his knees to his chin and pulled his feet in. Slowly he crept backwards, inching towards something he could lean against. He found a wall, and carefully propped himself against it, getting himself used to the glassy chill of it down his naked back. Gingerly he pulled his feet in further and wrapped his arms around his knees, more for safety now than anything else.