Bodies grinded on the dance floor, the smell of sweet sweat and drugs lingered in the club’s air. Dancers had crowded round the middle of the dance floor surrounding the ‘King’ of Babylon and the ‘Stud’ of Liberty. They danced so close, on of Brian’s legs between the younger blondes, his thigh rubbing against the boys crotch. Justin tilted his head back, allowing Brian to suck on his neck, arms tight round the kid’s waist as he, in turn, tightened his grip round the mans neck. Onlookers were watching them, it had seemed ever since Justin’s nightmare (yes, that fact had spread through the grapevine like wildfire) Brian hadn’t let a certain blonde out his sight. And what a hot one it was. Slowly, Justin pulled back from Brian, kissing him deeply before sliding off to the bar where his friends waited with Daphne. He couldn’t look at her the same either. Either he pictured her in a leather cat suit (which caused him to shudder) or she was covered in blood and screaming. Shaking his head, he grabbed his cigarettes and made a beeline for the fire door, leaning his hip against the handle to open it before he stepped out into the open, cold air hitting his bare chest. “Hey faggot?” His thumb had just been about to flick open his Zippo as he glanced up, cigarette perched between his lips as a fist connected with the side of his face. His staggered backwards, lighter hitting the tarmac with a clink as punch after punch hit him in the face, the chest and stomach. He was pushed against the wall hard, sliding down the brick so he lay on the ground, blood oozing out his lip and the cut above his head as his assailants started to kick him in the ribs. “HEY!” Footsteps echoed the alley as they made a run for it, his saviour bending over, “You okay kid?” he whispered to the half unconscious Justin. “B…Brian…” was all he managed to whisper before passing out. ~~~~~~~~ Brian appeared at the bar, looking about the gang, “Where’s Justin?” he queried, scanning the crowd for any sign of blonde hair. It was Emmett who answered, “He went outside for a cigarette like an hour ago…” even he sounded worried. Brian knew that since the highly realistic nightmare, Justin had been jumpy and anything could have happened as he pushed through the crowd and out the fire door, knowing that’s where Justin would have been smoking. He all but crashed through the door, startling nearby couples, “JUSTIN!” he yelled, looking about the alley. It was deserted, save the odd drop of blood on the tarmac, “Shit…” he hissed, kicking the dumpster. Emmett’s eyes rested on something shiny on the ground, bending over to pick it up. It was a Zippo, but it was the name ornately engraved on it that alerted the older man, “Umm Brian…” he started, holding the object out to him. “Fuck…” ~~~~~~~~ A groan echoed the room as the occupant of the bed cracked open an eye, his vision slightly blurred. Blinking his eyes furiously, he allowed his head to flop to the side so he stared at the wall. A very…padded wall? Sitting up slowly, he took in his surroundings. The barred window, the locked door. The padded wall. The straightjacket he wore… Sliding off the bed, he looked down. They’d dressed him in all white, even the slip on shoes he wore were white. There was a mirror in the corner, it had mesh over the front so it wouldn’t be able to be broken. His lip had been split, a vicious looking mound of swollen purple surrounded one of his eyes; if that was the damage to his face, he daren’t not think what the rest of him looked like. What caught his attention was a label on the end of the bed. The one that said ‘Property of Allegheny Mental Ward, Patient Name: Justin Taylor Diagnosis: Paranoid Schizophrenia’ “There’s a mental institute in Pittsburgh?”