Cole is so cold. Water has seeped through the hatch, creating a small river soaking the bottom of his cage in a thin film of moisture. The filthy straw is no help and his pleas for a blanket are made to the darkness around him.
And he is thirsty. His last drink was two hasty swallows the Boogeyman allowed him before taking Gavin away. Cole only knows Gavin is gone because the place is silent. No breathing. No shuffled feet on the ground. The last time the hatch opened and closed to let the Boogeyman out, there had been only a little light. He had been carrying something, small and broken, wrapped in what looked like a blanket.
Cole knows it was his neighbor. But all he can think about is the warmth that blanket would have given him. Despite himself, he is jealous of the simple luxury eve
