Monday, July 25th ~ Evening
Neville's body curled in on itself on the cold warehouse floor. He'd been moved in his sleep to the open area of the warehouse, presumably so the buyers could get a better look at him without having to use the close confines of Roland's office. The boys had been back, reopening the cut on his temple, adding a few more bruises and overall enjoying themselves at Neville's expense. Before he'd passed out for the third time, Neville had forced himself to accept his fate. He was about to be sold to a whorehouse, no one was looking for him, no one likely even noticed he was gone. His last thoughts were of Blaise and Fred as he wondered if it would take them even a week to move on.