Chapter 7

My dick hurts. I gotta pee really bad. It aches. I’m usually good about waiting until Bernie or Keem come down with our food, but I gotta piss, like now. We don’t have restrictions if we need to use the bathroom. Yesterday Trace threw up twice, once on the floor and the second time he was able to crawl to the bathroom. I think he kind of scared Sarah. She stayed with uncle last night. Pervert. I think Trace must have gotten a bit of food poisoning or something. Maybe his body is just breaking down or something. He spent the night in the bathroom. I felt bad for the guy, he was puking for a good while and then he couldn’t stop shitting. Diarrhea sucks, but to be here, in this hell hole, it’s got to be worse. I could hear him crying and kept asking him as I laid there in the dark, not able to sleep cause of all his bodily noises, if he wanted me to come in there with him. He just yelled no to me.

He’s not doing well. I thought he would get over it like I have, but he hasn’t. At least his eye is starting to look better. It’s still a little swollen, but it’s not as bruised anymore. After a while I couldn’t help it and I dozed off. I slept pretty hard last night. I haven’t really slept since we got here and I passed the hell out last night. I woke up feeling pretty good and it must have been almost lunch time because Sarah was already down here and I woke up when Bernie kicked me lightly and threw a bottle of water down at me. Trace was just eating the bread of his sandwich.

Sarah had pizza for lunch. I was so fucking jealous and sat there with my eyes closed, smelling the cheese and pepperoni and making my mouth think that my cold bologna and white bread was a big ass slice of Tino’s pizza, my favorite place back in LA.

It kinda worked.

She’s been watching cartoons, like normal, all afternoon. She colored a bit and talked to me about how a lot of the voices in the movies sound the same. I started to notice it, too. A lot of the Disney movies like Robin Hood and Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Alice in Wonderland, and Lady and the Tramp have a lot of the same people to do the voices in the different movies. I wanted to see how deep she thought about that, like if she knew these were movies, that the cartoons weren’t real. But I was too tired to try and get into a deep discussion with her. I’ve tried over the past few days, ever since the period incident. She’s so far lost, so into her five year old mind that I’m having a really, really hard time explaining things to her. I’m sure she has no concept of actors or directors, or anything like that.

We’ve watched a least four Disney movies today. Since I have nothing to tell me the time down here, I’m assuming that we’ve been watching them for six hours (since Disney movies are usually an hour and a half long). If they brought us lunch around 12 or 1 it would be 6 or 7 now. They’ll probably be coming down soon with dinner.

But I can’t wait to take a piss.

I stand up a bit and Trace must be asleep because he doesn’t move from where he’s curled up on his side, huddled to the wall. It’s in the same spot he puked yesterday. I’m glad they cleaned it up for him and I’m still surprised they didn’t yell at him, just like when they didn’t yell at me when I puked in the fucker’s bedroom.

I push myself off the floor and start to shuffle towards the bathroom. I scratch my head with both hands since when one moves the other is sure to follow with the handcuffs and all.

“Where are you going?”

I stop and turn to look at her. She’s lying back on her bed, under the covers, holding Abu and watching the end of Lady and the Tramp. I hate this part when Trusty gets run over. It’s so sad.

Fuck, I miss my dogs.

“I gotta pee.”

She starts to giggle. “Pee pee!!! Boy’s are so weird.”

I smile at her. God, it sucks someone like her has to be so fucked up. She’s absolutely adorable and would be pretty if she wasn’t so, creepy. “What do you mean?”

“It just hangs out. Girls are prettier.”

I shouldn’t laugh, but I agree with her. I don’t want to think about where she’s seen a penis before, but I’m sure I know where. “That’s for sure.”

“I can’t believe you’re fucking laughin’.”

I look over and Trace isn’t looking at me, hasn’t changed his position, but apparently he’s not asleep. I wish he’d just accept that we’re in a tight spot right now, and giving up is only going to make it worse. We’ve been clashing lately. He doesn’t want to talk to me. He doesn’t want to try and pass the time. He doesn’t want to think of ways out of here. He just wants to crumble. He’s been my rock all of my life and now he’s shattering. It’s a weird thing to see.

I go into the bathroom and bend down to lift the seat up. I don’t know why, but I find that really amusing. Here I am, locked up in some dungeon with a freak woman-child, kidnapped for God knows how long, and I still have to lift up a toilet seat. I guess I’m kind of glad of the small motion. I still have some freedom. It’s not like I have to shit in a corner or pee my pants. I’m able to unzip my pants. They’re dirty as hell. I mean, I’ll admit I’ve worn unwashed jeans two days in a row before. I know a lot of people that do that. But it’s been, damn how long has it been? Four days? Five days? Maybe Six? I don’t even remember now. Almost a week.

I wonder if momma has flown out here yet. I bet she has. I bet she’s out here bossing all the agents and police telling them if they don’t find me she’ll fucking do it herself. I grin. I know she won’t give up on me. I sigh. Shit. This is a lot of pee, kind of like that scene in Austin Powers. I wish we had some comedies to watch down here instead of all these cartoons. I would love to see Tommy Boy or Rush Hour or something.

Hmm. That’s interesting. I never noticed that the mirror and medicine cabinet have a lock on them. I bet that’s where all her shit is, like that medicine he makes her take every night. I wonder what it is she takes and why. I guess I won’ ever find out since uncle asshole has the key and all.

I finish my business and flush the toilet. I tuck my stuff back in, zip up and shuffle back out of the dark bathroom into our little home. No Justin. This isn’t home. Whew. Sometimes I gotta check myself cause this place is getting more and more cozy to me. I know that’s sick, but I’m not going to just sit here and freak out like Trace. I try and find the positive aspects of this place, like the fact that we can pee on our own and that even though it does get redundant, it’s not like were down here by ourselves in the dark with nothing to do but freak out. We have each other to talk to, if Trace would ever talk. There’s the puzzle of Sarah to figure out and there are Disney movies, no matter how creepy they start to seem.

Sarah’s pouting when I come out of the bathroom and she’s working on rewinding the tape, sitting on her knees in front of the TV. “What’s wrong?” I ask her.

“I wanna doggie.” It’s sad when I have more to talk about with a psycho child/ adult lady than I do with my best friend.

“I have three.”

She looks up at me with amazement, “Really?”

“Mmmhmm.” I lean against the doorframe and watch her as she scrambles to the bed just as the video starts to play the previews for upcoming movies. “Bearley is my old dog. He stays with my momma and I just got two baby boxers, Franco and Rosco.”

“Boxers?” Her eyebrows furrow and she looks really confused as she sits on the end of her bed. “But…”

I realize that she only knows a boxer as a fighter. “Someone that hits someone else?”

She nods. “Uh huh.”

I walk towards her and get a little shocked when she cowers from me. Since the period incident Sarah has sort of trusted me. I’ll find her staring at me. At first it creeped me about a little bit, but then she would start to smile. I don’t think she’s ever had a friend before. I’m happy to be her first, if it’ll get us out of here. Still, she cowers from me and looks up with big brown eyes. I ask her, “Can I sit?”

She looks at the bed and then back at me, then whispers, “I...I guess.”

I realize that the only other person that has been on her bed is uncle. And when uncle gets on it he touches her. Shit. She doesn’t like being touched. She knows it’s wrong, but she doesn’t show him. This is fucked up. “I won’t touch you, Sarah,” I reassure her.

He nibbles on her lip and scoots to the far side of the bed as I sit on the edge opposite of her. “Ok.”

“A boxer is also a type of dog or a breed,” I try to explain to her. “Like in that movie, Lady was a Cocker Spaniel. That’s her breed. Tramp was a mut, or a mixed breed. That means his momma and daddy weren’t the same type of dog.”

She gives me a weird look but kind of smiles, “That’s confusing.”

“Yeah, it can be.”

“Why aren’t your doggies here?” She asks and pulls up her legs to sit Indian style. She must not be afraid of me sitting on her bed anymore cause now she’s rocking forward a bit, getting kind of close to me when she does it.

“Cause…” My voice catches in my throat when I realize what I’m about to say to her. “Cause they’re at home.”

“Home?” She asks, worried, concerned. I guess she thought this was my home. I can’t imagine how many lies this girl’s been told. It’s sick to think how much damage her uncle has done to her. How can you do that to a family member, even if you are a twisted pervert?

More and more evidence is growing in my mind that makes me think this bastard isn’t really her uncle.

“I don’t live here, Sarah.” I lean forward a bit and look her directly in her eyes. I don’t know if she knows what lies are, but if she does she’ll have to know I’m telling the truth if I look directly at her. “I have a home, a house, really far from here.”

“Oh…” She looks a little disappointed and eyes her bedspread, making a circle on it when her finger.

Maybe I should try to explain to her what happened to me. Maybe I’ve made enough progress to do that. “I’m kid-“

But she interrupts me. “I wanna dog, but uncle says I’m not responsible enough.”

“Maybe someday you can come visit me and see my dogs.” Ok, so I don’t think I’ve made enough progress with Sarah to convince her about me and Trace’s situation. Maybe, maybe the answer is getting Sarah to think of something other than this place. She has no real concept of the world outside this room, or at least outside this house.

It baffles me. Doesn’t she ever wish to go outside? Even if she really is a five year old with a weird growth defunct, when I was five I longed to go outside and explore, and I was eager and interested in the world. She seems only interested in her TV and sometimes her drawings, her incredible drawings.

“I’d like that.”

I’m making headway. So, she wants to visit me and my dogs. She does have a sense of something outside this house. I have to play on that. “We have to get out of here first.”

She nods and points to the TV. “Have you ever seen this one?”

I sigh as the beginning credits of a movie start to play. Of course, it’s a cartoon. I don’t know why I would have thought other wise. This is gonna take a lot more, this whole mind game thing. It’s gonna be harder than I thought. “What is this?” I ask, deciding to drop the previous conversation and talk about things on her terms.

“Charlotte’s Web.”

I look at her and she’s smiling. “This one makes me cry,” I admit.

“Me too.” She sighs and flops down on her stomach, face towards the TV. “I want a pig, too. Just like Wilbur, and a spider. Sometimes they get down here and make a web up in that corner.” She points to a corner in the ceiling above her refrigerator. “I try to get them to talk to me, but they don’t.”

“Ya know, spiders can’t really talk. It’s just something in the movie.”

“What?” As soon as she asks that and I look at her face and see the horror in it, the disbelief, the crushed spirit and hope I realize I’ve made a mistake. She has no concept of reality as I know it and it’s so fucking disgusting. That asshole needs to be burned alive and then fed to rabid dogs or something.

I suck in a breath and realize I just did a bit of damage to her. I need to bring her spirits back up before the tears that are collecting in her eyes start to fall. “Well, they can talk to each other, and maybe other animals, but they don’t speak our language. In these tapes, these movies, they talk that way so we can understand.”

“Oh.” She swallows hard and looks away confused. “Ok.”

She watches the screen for a moment and I watch her. It’s hard to really believe that she’s a five year old with a hyperactive growth gene or something. I mean, it just doesn’t fit. Nothing does. It’s like I’m putting together this puzzle, but all the pieces I have are parts of all these other puzzles. I’ll put a couple pieces together, but then I’ll find another piece and it just doesn’t fit with anything. It makes me crazy. I stay up at night thinking about her, trying to figure out what her deal is. I’m becoming a little obsessed about it, I know. But what else am I supposed to do down here? Trace won’t talk. Disney movies are freaking me out.

I gotta keep digging. My mind takes me back to the medicine cabinet, the locked medicine cabinet. A piece is in there. I know it. “Sarah?” I ask and she looks at me over her shoulder. “Those pills you take.”

“Huh?” She asks.

“The pills your uncle makes you take at night.” I pause. She doesn’t look away or look scared. I continue. “What are they for?”

“My disease,” She says and then looks back at the TV.

I was right. There is a puzzle piece in there. Ok. We’re getting somewhere. So maybe she really does have a growth defect. “You have a disease?” I ask slowly and then quietly add. “It makes you like this, doesn’t it?”

“I’m allergic to the sun,” She says, not moving her gaze from the TV, scratching the back of her calve with her opposite foot.

“What?” I ask, looking at her, taking in her pale skin now for more than what I thought it was before.

“It’s called solar urticaria,” She says smoothly. Now, now I know something’s up. Normally, a five year old child would have trouble saying that. Hell, I don’t even know what she said. Even if a kid had had the disease all their life they would have trouble saying it. But she said it flawlessly, like a knowledgably twenty year old would.

“Wh-what?”

She turns over and pushes herself up so she’s sitting on the bed facing me, her knees bend under her. “I take medicine for it. That’s why I can’t be upstairs except at night, when uncle lets me. Cause if I get sunlight on me I’ll die. And If I don’t take my medicine I’ll die.”

I nod my head but not in agreement. I stare at her hard. Her skin is grayish white not pale, not reddish pale like people I know that are sensitive to the sun. There are no freckles, nothing that looks Irish about her. There’s a lot of lies going on right now and I think I’m starting to figure them out. “Really?”

“Mmhmm.” She nods and turns back to the TV. “That’s what uncle and the doctor said.”

My mouth drops a bit, “You have a doctor.”

She doesn’t look away from the TV. “He doesn’t come down often but…” She looks at me with scared eyes. This is sick. “I don’t really like him,” She whispers and then hurries to add, “Don’t tell uncle that. He just, he scares me. Sometimes he sticks me with these things and he…” She gulps and looks away. “He looks weird.”

“Are your pills in your medicine cabinet?” I ask.

She nods at me and then I find myself in a really awkward staring contest with her. I almost want to look away. Her eyes are deep, brown. God, and I know this is cheesy and maybe I’m going psycho or something, but I think they’re trying to tell me something. They aren’t the eyes of an innocent child, but they’re the eyes of a tortured woman who’s seen way too much pain in her life.

I look away. Maybe I should just go back to the floor beside Trace and forget prying. I thought this would be my ticket out of here. Figuring out Sarah and getting her to trust me was the way out of this hell. But now it’s like I’m witnessing a crime or a horror movie, and all I can do is sit and watch it.

“Wanna see them?”

I suck in a breath and look at her. I smile at her when I see that she’s almost bragging about her medicine. I remember when I was nine years old and there was a dead rabbit behind my house. It’s was near the part of the woods behind my house that momma and daddy told me not to go into, but it was too cool. It was all rotting and looked like it had been eaten a little bit. Trace and I ran back there one day and looked at it. He was a little scared at first, but I convinced him. Then we heard this weird noise in the woods and ran away back home and decided to ride our bikes to the pool.

“Yes,” I tell her.

She pushes herself off the bed and I watch as she goes to the nightstand and opens up a little drawer. She pulls out a key.

Holy… I’ll remember that. I’ll definitely remember that. When she sleeps upstairs with uncle, yeah, yeah I’ll remember that. She walks quickly to the bathroom and before she goes in she turns around and looks at Trace. He’s been quiet for way too long. I can hear him breathe pretty deeply. He’s asleep. She looks back at me. “You can’t tell anyone, ok?”

“I won’t.” I smile and add, “I promise.”

I wait patiently and before I know it, she’s handing them to me. She’s handing them to me so freely. She’s smiling. I realize something that is more important than the fact that I have her drugs in my hands. She just did something you did with friends. She trusted me with a secret and wanted to share that secret with me.

She’s starting to trust me and that is very, very good news.

I smile back at her as she sits in front of me on the bed. I pick up the white bottle, it’s pretty big. It says daily vitamins for women on it. It’s those ‘one a day’ brand and has a special helping of Vitamin D. I guess that’s cause she’s not in the sun…ever, and you get that from the sun. Still, she’s got to have some type of deficiency. I open up the bottle just to make sure and see large grey like pills inside. Definitely vitamins. The next case is one I know pretty well. I don’t even inspect it. It’s birth control, that tricyclin’ stuff that Britney used. Cam’s on the patch and last time she talked to me about it she was thinking about getting some shot. I didn’t even know they had a birth control shot, but apparently they do.

Well, at least the fucker is being nice enough to keep her healthy and not pregnant. God, that’s fucking disgusting. There’s an orange bottle here and this is what I’m most interested in. These must be the sun allergy pills. I turn the orange vile over and look at the label.

I blink.

I look up at her. She stares at me with wide eyes. Shit.

The pieces get more jumbled and the hole gets a lot deeper and a lot darker.

“Methaqualone…” I say.

“What?”

“Methaqualone. That’s what he’s giving you.”

“Yeah, that’s for my disease. The others are to make me healthy.”

“Meathaqualone…” I can’t stop saying it. I know this drug. Marty sometimes used it on tour when he couldn’t sleep. He never seemed to have a problem with controlling it. I sat down with him one night cause I found it on his bus when I was hanging out, asked someone about it and they told me it was a pretty serious depressant.

It was like a damn after school special. I told him I didn’t want him getting sick or getting addicted. He reassured me he was ok and knew all about the drug. It’s illegal, at least in the states, and it can make you seriously sleepy. It knocks you out, makes you forget things. It’s pretty much like a heavy duty sleeping pill that makes you chill out and then pass out.

But it sure as hell doesn’t prevent the sun from shining.

It starts to click in my head. She has no disease. She could be out in the sun if she wanted, but that bastard, that fucking son of a whore told her she was sick to make her afraid to go outside, afraid to run away. He manufactured some disorder and gives her “medicine” to cure her but really it only makes her fall asleep.

“You don’t need to take these, Sarah.”

I know I shouldn’t have said it, but I did. I wonder what would happen if she didn’t take them. I wonder if she’d become more alert, more trusting. She probably wouldn’t lie in bed half the day and watch movies. She’d crave to get out of this prison. She’d start to ask questions. She’d loose her trust in uncle and gain it in me.

Yes, I have to get her off this crap.

“I’ll die…” She says in a pitiful voice. It’s like she asked me if I wanted her to die.

“No you won’t Sarah. This is a drug that makes you go sleepy. It doesn’t protect you from the sun. Don’t you go to sleep after you take this?”

“Yes, but…”

I grab her hand. I don’t know why, but I do. “Sarah you just, you gotta believe me. This isn’t good for you.”

“But uncle said it…”

“He lied, Sarah.”

She jerks away from me and starts shaking her head, closing her eyes, blocking out the truth. “No…”

“Look…” I grab her hand again and look straight in her eyes, forcing her to look at me. I make up an excuse, it’s probably a lie, but I have to get her to not freak out. “Maybe, maybe he doesn’t know any better. Maybe the mean doctor lied to him. But you gotta believe me, Sarah.” I could see it. She was about to cry. She was breathing hard and her eyes were watering. “These pills are bad news. They don’t protect you from the sun.”

Her eyes widen and she says in a panicked, shaky voice, “Am...am I gonna…”

“No..No…” She’s still freaking out, so I do the only thing I know. I reach out to her. “Come here…” I say to her calmly and she leaps into my arms, crying into my shoulder and holding me tighter than I’ve ever been held.

Yeah, she knows this isn’t right. She knows something bad is happening that she can’t control. I rub her back and try my best to sooth her. “You’re not gonna die, Sarah,” I whisper into her hair. “I promise.” I pull her a way and look her in the eye. “But you gotta believe me.” I pick up the bottle of Quaaludes and shake them at her. “These pills are bad news.”

“But…”

I shake my head at her. “Don’t take them tonight, ok?”

She licks her lips and looks at the bottle and then, thank God, she nods.

I start to smile and want to hug her again, but then she turns her head quickly to the door. I can hear someone there. “Shit…”

I hand her the bottles and say, “Go put these up, quick.”

I do my best and half run, half shuffle back beside Trace. He’s still asleep. I lay there and try to calm my breathing and hope she gets back with everything back where it’s supposed to be in time. She comes out and is holding the key. “Don’t take them Sarah.” She nods at me and puts the key in the drawer before shutting it and jumping on her bed.

“Don’t.” I whisper to her as the door opens.

He swaggers down in his ugly white suit, with Keem in tow.

“Hey beautiful,” He says to her and I almost throw up. Trace moans beside me and I feel him shift and then push himself up against the wall.

“Hey…” He whispers to me.

“Feeling better?” I ask him and he just nods.

We are given our sandwiches and our water and I eye uncle as he hands her a sandwich as well. Her’s isn’t bologna, though. Her’s looks like it has cheese and ham and lettuce and when she takes a bite, a glop of mustard, not regular but that spicy or Dijon looking kind, lands on her plate. Her bread is darker than ours, too. Looks like really nice, expensive wheat bread with all those grains on it.

I bet the fucker gave her a sandwich that was twenty times better than ours just to fuck with us. He sits on her bed as she eats and runs his hands over the back of her head and through her hair. He talks to her, but I don’t know what he’s saying because he turned up the sound on Charlotte’s Web.

Keem just stands there with his hand on his pistol, like always, watching us.

It’s amazing how many lies that bastard has told her. She doesn’t have a disease. He dopes her up on drugs. He molests her and abuses her. Ya know, I have a very, very hard time believing this fucker is her uncle. They don’t look anything alike and I’ve heard jokes about dirty, scary uncles, but this guy takes the cake.

This guy is a maniac.

He’s a murderer and a kidnapper.

It makes me wonder who she really is.

“Who needs to go?” Keem asks when we finish our sandwiches. He has a deep voice and is really, really intimidating. Ya know, if he wasn’t one of the bad guys, I might have asked him to be a part of my security team. He’d be really good at it I bet. I don’t have to go to the bathroom since I went a few moments before, so I shake my head no. Trace pushes himself up and says, “I do.”

Keem walks behind him as he shuffles towards the bathroom door and I watch the door close entirely.

Now it’s just me, poor Sarah, and the devil himself. I just watch him. I watch them and try not to throw up my sandwich as he wraps his arms around her and starts to tickle her and kiss her neck and shoulders. She doesn’t laugh, though. Well, she does a little bit, but not like she use to.

I catch her looking at me and I don’t know what to do, so I just sort of grin at her and unscrew the cap of my bottle. I gulp down the water. It’s gone within a minute. I still feel parched. Minutes pass and I just stare straight in front of me. Trace is taking a while in the bathroom. I hope he’s not sick again. I can’t watch them. I can’t stand it hearing him whisper but not knowing what he’s saying. But then again, I don’t wanna know. I don’t wanna know what’s behind her forced giggles and his deep chuckles.

At least now, now maybe she has some doubt in him. Maybe that’s why she doesn’t seem as happy to see him as she was before. Maybe I’ve made her not trust him. That’s good. That’s good, just think about that Justin. Think about how Sarah will one day trust you completely and kill the fucker in his sleep for you and get you out of here. And then, then I can take care of her.

Yeah, then everything will be ok.

I hear the bed squeak and shift and my eyes catch him moving off the bed and walking to the bathroom. Shit, he’s going to get her drugs. When he’s not looking I look at her and mouth “don’t” to her and she just chews on her thumb. Poor thing. I know, I know she’s so confused. She doesn’t want to take them, but she doesn’t want to make him mad.

Shit! Fucking shit! I didn’t tell her to put them in her mouth but not swallow.

She doesn’t know any better.

She really doesn’t know what to do.

He comes back out before I can try to do anything. She pushes herself back against the pillows and holds her knees to her chest. Fuck.

“Here ya go, sweetheart.” He opens his palm to her and she takes one. I see it’s the vitamin. That’s ok, that’s good. Those are good for her. She glances at me and I look away when she takes the birth control.

I know what’s left and I find myself staring at her. She’s looking at me and I know some shit is about to go down. God Dammit, why didn’t I tell her to put it in her mouth but not swallow? I’m in idiot! A fucking moron. Soon to be dead.

“Come on, last one.”

“No…” She whispers it, but it rings in my ear.

“Why not? You have to. It keeps you alive.”

“I don’t want to.” She’s still whispering and I don’t look at her. I can’t. I can feel my self sweating. I’m about to die. He’s going to figure it out. I just know it.

“Why…why not?” He asks, his voice is deep, threatening.

I glance at her and she’s still staring at me, wide eyed, panicked. And then it happens. The uncle follows her gaze and he looks at me. I shudder and turn my head quickly.

“What did he tell you!” I hear him yell at her a moment later and I can’t help it and turn to see he’s roughly grabbing her upper arms and gritting his teeth at her. She’s crying. Fuck, I never wanted to make her cry. She shakes her head and I can’t even make out a word. She doesn’t even have the strength to blame me and I have to stop it. I can’t have him hurt her.

“Stop it!” I scream at him and he stops holding her so tightly and stares at me. He breathes hard but doesn’t say anything. He slowly stands up from the bed and paces for a moment before stopping, staring at her and drawing back his hand like he’s going to smack her. I close my eyes and wait for the sound.

I hear nothing but her sniffles.

And then I hear, “Keem…”

I look up and see that he’s staring at me, his hands are in fists and he looks like he’s ready to kill. Fuck, he’s going to kill me. I hear a toilet flush and moments later Trace comes out, looking around at all of us. He looks at me and shakes his head, not disappointed but scared. He’s worried. He’s really, really worries. Keem pushes him to where he falls down beside me and then the goon looks at his boss.

“Make sure Sarah takes this.” I see him drop a pill in Keem’s hand and then I watch as Keem walks over to her. I can’t see what he does to her cause he’s so big and blocks the view of her, but I can see her legs kicking in the air and hear her struggling.

But I don’t see much after that because I feel a sharp blow to my face. My ears start to ring and right when I open my eyes I see the fucker there with his knee bent back. Then his foot comes flying at me.

It hits me in the stomach and I feel like I’m going to throw up. I fall down on my side and gag. Then I feel someone pulling me up my collar. I get spit on.

“Fuck with her again and you die. Fuck the money, fuck the ransom, fuck your pretty little girlfriend. You’ll be gone and it won’t be quick and it sure as hell won’t be painless.”

And then my eyes sight flashes black when I feel someone kick me again, but this time in the groin. I can’t feel anything but pain. It surges through me like waves and I lay there and moan. It’s all my body will let me do. I hear trace saying something to me but I can’t comprehend it. When I open my eyes again I look and see her lying on the bed, looking at me, crying silently.

Poor Sarah. She just doesn’t know any better.

I gotta get her out of here.

The fucker blocks my view of her quickly. He pulls me up so my back is to the wall and pushes me back against it. He forces open my mouth. I should try to bite him but I can’t move. I can’t control myself. I think my brain is saying “bite” but my mouth won’t listen. I feel his hand go into my mouth and he puts something on the very back of my tongue. I cough and gag but it’s too late, and I feel two capsules going down my throat.

I swallow again and the feeling of them disappear.

I have a good idea of what it was I just swallowed.

I slid down against the floor and stare at the ceiling, blinking, breathing, not being able to do anything but moan. I hear a door slam and hear trace call out to me. His face comes in between my eyes and the ceiling.

“Justin….” His mouth moves, but I don’t hear anything. “Are you ok?” Still nothing.

I curl on my side and grab my dick through my jeans. Holy fuck, I think that took some years off my life. I lick my lips and my eyes close in a very, very slow blink. It takes a lot for me to open them and when I do my vision is blurry.

But then it clears up and I see her. She’s lying there, not crying, staring back at me with heavy eyelids. She’s curled up on her side like me, blinking slowly.

“I’m sorry…” Her mouth moves and she closes her eyes.