[ WP ] Young Jonathan has been locked in his room for two years . Arguments through the walls and scraps left by random men connected him to the outside world . After an evening of screaming and ungodly noises last week , it has been quiet . A cookie has been slid under his door each morning since .

Johnathan had a recurring dream, every night, of being in a meadow breathing in the fresh scents of freedom as the wind rustled through his hair; and every night he would be startled awake from screams on the other side. Tonight was odd; however. The screams were louder, more ferocious, the walls seemed to scream for mercy as blows struck them. Johnathan stood and walked over to a picture in the corner, his only and favorite picture, of a man and himself playing. He did n't remember the man, his father, very well. It had been two years since he had been taken. Johnathan did n't think his dad would be too happy to see what he had become, ferocious and scared. He walked away, tears trailing his face and looked at the door. 
 
 While lost in thought he had n't noticed the cookie that had been slid under the door, then he heard a voice, strange and fair, and so familiar.. 
 
 `` Johnny, sweet boy, we found you.'' 
 
 He heard a crack, that sounded like bones breaking and a rattling of the door. Johnathan had n't been happy in years, not since he was stolen from the park and used as a bait dog. When he survived and was trained, he thought that was it, that his life was now a series of fights. Blood, whimpering, silence, victory: in that order. He had hope in the beginning, and had slowly lost it; but as the familiar face came into view and the shotgun fell at his side Johnathan knew... he knew it was safe to be happy.
