[Content warning: Reference to violence]

He was sore and cold. How did he end up here again? Vague images of violence and raw voices went through his mind. But he couldn't piece it together. He was vaguely aware of the fact that his leg was wet. It lay in a puddle. He tried to move it, but he wasn't sure if he did. It still felt wet. He had to get up, he knew. But he was afraid. They'd come back. Better play dead. How long since? He wasn't sure. He was cold. 

Tobias lay on his stomach on the cold wet paving slabs of a dark alley. There was some light coming from the main street, but he was barely visible in it. There was blood on his face and the skin around his eye was discoloured. There were cuts in his jacket and clothes, near his pockets.

He knew he should call for help, but it was as if he had forgotten how to.