He hadn’t struggled at all. He wished he’d put up more of a fight, that he’d tried to save himself, but he was hardly the strongest person in the world. They’d overpowered him fairly quickly: a couple of punches to the gut and has was down. From there it wasn’t too difficult for the two men to pick him up, put him in the wardrobe, close it and lock it.

It was incredibly dark in the wardrobe. Cramped, too. There was the thinnest of thin slithers of light sneaking through where the doors met, but it wasn’t quite wide enough to peer through. He could hear what they were doing, though. Helping themselves. He had a nice TV. He liked his TV. He was quite certain that they’d like it too.

It’s perhaps telling of the way the human mind works during a crisis that his biggest concern was that he was going to miss Family Guy.

After an hour or two, the thought crossed his mind that he might never get out of the wardrobe. What if no one noticed he was missing? Would no one come to look for him? Quietly, he began to sob.