I jumped out the Uber ride before the driver went for a complete stop when I saw the gate to the compound was open wide, indicating that he was already inside. Unsure about his condition and anxious about what I might see, I ran straight across the car park and into the opening of the warehouse but disappointed when I found out that it was close.

"Nick! Nick!" I called out for him, hoping for some response except for the sound of pigeons cooing.

It suddenly struck me that he could be in that tortured site where I was hung upside. But it frustrates me that I wasn't able to recall where it's located within this large yard congested with shipping containers. Back then it was dark at night and I was too beaten up to remember.

I scouted around the area, hoping that my memory would pick up on something. Suddenly I heard a crashing and loud scream-like groaning of a man somewhere in a distance, alerting me that it was Nick. I shifted my movement towards the approximate source of the sound and rushed for it until I finally found a familiar enclosed space with its shutter opened wide.

I could feel my breaths getting shorter and my heart beating faster by every minute as I drew near the shutter. When I finally entered the enclosed space half the size of a warehouse, I saw Nick from afar lying face down on the dusty floor. Light steam oozing out from his topless body as he moved into a few sudden spasms before going motionless.

My pace stopped dead when I caught one of his hand clamping a live frayed wire connected to an old portable power generator while his other free hand inching away from another live wire that was loose free. A few uneven slashed and punctured dried wounds seen on his upper back suggested a linkage to the bloodied blades in the bathroom.

Despite desperately needing to save him, I edged away knowing that I might be electrocuted and would not be able to save us both. The enclosed space was equipped with all kinds of sharp tools and devices sufficient to disfigure a person in seconds. Hatchet, hand saw, wooden mallet and swords hanging by the wall on my left while to my right, a coil of cables, thick metal chains, WD-40 can, tool box, hand crank generator and a couple of cleaning bottles neatly arranged on the self-rack. Old blood stains splattered across the wall and on the distribution panel box suggested that many lives were tormented or taken in this room.

Out of panic, I immediately flapped open the cover to the distribution box, switching off every circuit breaker I could gauge and swivelled towards the power generator to turn it off before realising that the power generator was the independent source of energy. Regardless, I had to make all forms of power sources disconnected before I could remove him. Then I gingerly prodded both wires away from him with the tip of the mallet's handle, nudged him with the sole of my trainers to make sure no currents were present. When I was sure that it was safe enough to touch him, I took off my trench coat and wrapped it around his bare torso.

"Nick, can you hear me?" I probed for a response but there wasn't any. I checked for his pulse to find a slow throbbing on his wrist.

I inspected other parts of his body from head, moving down to the neck, chest, arms, stomach and legs, searching for any burns or other injuries that were immediately noticeable. His breathing was bearable, he had a slight burn on the palm from gripping the live wire. I took off my neck scarf and bounded his hand for temporary measure. 'What the hell are you doing, Nick?' I asked quietly.

Nick's sudden gasping coughs relieved me but I wasn't sure what to do next. My instinct definitely warned me to call the ambulance but I wasn't sure if I wanted the paramedics to find out about this place. And I don't think conscious Nick would approve this idea either. Regardless, Nick should be in the office where it's safer and warm.

My many attempts of carrying unconscious Nick failed miserably. His body was literally hot form the current and he was fricking heavy for a slender man. Should I call Cane and Mark? I don't even have any of their numbers. So I did the most unthinkable, which was putting him inside a used body bag I found by the shelf-rack and gently but swiftly dragged him out of the scene. I prayed that no one, especially the caretaker, would see me this way and made hasty speculations.

It took much effort and energy to get him inside the toilet and got him out of the bag. I experienced a mild muscle pain and wished that I'd pay more attention to the strength workout Nick had outlined for me. I removed him from the body bag, letting him lie sideways on top of it on the floor while my trench coat was still covering his upper body.

I went into the small storage room next to the office to scavenge for something useful and found a fire blanket among stacks of PPEs on the floor. Then I replaced my trench coat with the blanket while using my coat as a pillow propping his head. I brought for him a glass water, trying to get him to drink but he was still unconscious. So, I left him alone in the toilet and attempted to clean any evidences of his self-torture which was mainly returning to the scene to close the shutter down.

I went back to him with a sponge, a basin and a water-filled drinking bottle that I borrowed from whoever left it there at the pantry. I partially removed the blanket and made another vital check in case I lost him while I was away. So far he showed positive signs.

After cleaning the wounds behind him, I began to rouse him gently, "Nick, can you get up?" I inserted the spout of the drinking bottle into his mouth and carefully squeezed the water out to let him have a sip. But his nervous system remained paralysed that the water spurted out from his mouth and wet the blanket. "Nick, get up. You need to drink up. You're dehydrating." I urged once more.

Then Nick slowly moved his lips, mouthed an inaudible whisper. I bent down, putting my ear closer to his parted lips waiting for an answer which he finally uttered, "The name is Nekmat."