A non-ending in search of an ending.

"Don't turn around."

My hand froze next to the light switch and I dropped my laptop case to the floor in fright. The sound of expensive electronics smashing to pieces failed to register at all.

"Do *not* turn around Dad, but it's me. Jason. Your son."

It took every ounce of will not to turn around and look. Jason had been missing for 8 years now. He would be 16 next month.

"Jason? I don't understand, what-" He cut me off sharply. "Just listen. We don't have a lot of time. The people who took me, still have me. But I recently did... a favour for them. This is sort of my reward. I wanted you to have some closure."

"Who has you? Why can't we go to the police? Wh-" He cut off my rambling again.

"I'm not here alone Dad. So don't think things like that. I'm alive, I'm reasonably healthy, and right now I'm not in any physical danger."

I couldn't hold my tears back any longer.

"But are you happy?" I sobbed.

"There's no such thing as happy," he told me. "Now please, forget about me. Move on with your life."