Three weeks.

That's how long Michael'd been gone. He'd seemingly dropped off the face of the planet.

And Micky was getting nowhere.

He had been moved into the psych ward at the hospital. Night terrors kept him awake all hours of the night and pure exhaustion caused him to lash out at other patients.

He didn't dare talk about Davy. Or Peter. Both of whom were facing trials just next week.

"Micky," his psychiatrist, Doctor Benjamin Reynolds, sighed, "you need to talk to me. You'll never get out of here if you don't...open up. We need to make sure you're mentally sound before you meet the requirements for release."

Micky, who'd grown thin and pale during the last month, stared back at the doctor with wide eyes, highlighted by heavy, dark circles. He drooped forward, but quickly bolted upright again.

Then he uttered the same three words that had ended every session during the past three weeks.

"Not without Michael."