The Things We Hide at Home

by Nem Rowan

  I still used ChainLink to keep in contact with Vanessa and Growler, peeking at their photos and leaving comments to let them know I cared about them, but I stopped posting and cleared off the majority of the data on my account, photos, comments, and all. More importantly, I was able to see when CordialSin was online, and as far as I could tell, he hadn’t been in close proximity since that night at the bistro. If it had been David’s username, my phone would have alerted me that he was nearby when I found his phone and turned it on, but it hadn’t. I had been slightly badly behaved since I’d checked the apps on David’s phone to see whether there was anything incriminating, all the while feeling ashamed of myself for doing so, but I’d needed to be certain. As I had hoped, there was nothing incriminating; his ChainLink account was signed into the Snaffle username and it appeared I was the only person he had ever messaged. His phone book was sparsely populated by the numbers of utility companies and other useful contacts. He hadn’t messaged anyone except me in a long, long time. The Photo Album was filled mostly with photos of Snaffle and some of the computer projects he had worked on, but that was it; there weren’t even any pictures of himself. When I brought his phone to him, I wanted to confess that I had looked, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it, instead assuring myself that I would talk to him about it when he was well again.

  At the weekend, I bumped into Growler when he came to visit Gerard; they were going out for dinner late in the evening, then to the club for some quality time together. There was an unspoken tension now between me and Gerard, as we both now knew that we were patrons of the Oubliette Club, which meant both of us were obviously interested in the darker side of sexuality, yet neither of us felt it necessary to acknowledge it. Instead, he only smiled sheepishly when Growler told me where they were going.

  “See you later, Gerry!” I called as I heard them opening the front door. “Bye, Growler!”

  “Bye, Tenny!” they shouted in unison, causing Snaffle to leap from the sofa and rush into the hallway to see what the commotion was all about. Seconds later, they closed the door again and she came pattering back in, her head turning this way and that as she listened to them getting into the car.

  “It’s just you and me for the night, Snaff.” I patted the sofa beside me and she climbed up—with great difficulty since she was so small—before snuggling up at my side.

  For a while, there was only the talking coming from the television, but when someone jogged past the house, Snaffle leaped up and started barking. I realised she was anxious a lot of the time, probably because David wasn’t here, so I had to work hard to soothe her, coaxing her into quietening down by stroking her head and cooing to her. That worked for a little while and she seemed to settle again, enabling me to hear what was being said in the documentary I was watching. I checked my phone to see if David had replied to me but there was no answer; he was probably sleeping since it was quite late and he promised he’d get to sleep at a regular time from now on instead of sitting awake doing crosswords. I put my phone in my pocket, noticing that Snaffle had stood again and was looking around, her ears twitching as they picked up on sounds from different directions. Gerard’s house was in a busier area than where she was used to living, so naturally there was more ambient noise, but tonight she seemed particularly agitated. She jumped off the sofa again and I listened to her collar jingling as she pattered to the kitchen, knowing there was probably a fox or a cat outside that I couldn’t hear but she was exceptionally aware of. Seconds later, she started barking again.

  “Snaffle! Come here, girl!” I called as I leaned over the arm of the sofa. “Snaffle!”

  She paused to listen to my voice, then the barking resumed. I heard her rushing along the hallway to the front door where she continued to yap noisily and I couldn’t help but wonder if the neighbours were getting annoyed with the noise. I covered my eyes with my palm and groaned.

  “Snaffle!” I called again. “Damn it, you silly animal…”

  Suddenly, she fell silent, then I heard her whimper and her paws scraping across the laminate flooring as she fled towards the stairs and began leaping up the carpeted steps. Sighing, I figured I should go and see what she was up to, so I reached for the remote to turn off the television, and that’s when I felt something cold and sharp touch my throat. My whole body went rigid.

  “Don’t move,” a voice whispered close to my ear, making me starkly aware of the presence that leaned over the back of the sofa towards me.

  I swallowed deeply. “Don’t cut me.”

  “I won’t cut you if you do as I say,” the man replied, his warm breath causing the hair on the back of my neck to rise. “No shouting, no screaming. I’ve got a gun and I’ll shoot you in the face if you make a sound. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Chapter 12

  I heard and felt every bump in the road, but still I had no idea where I was being taken. The moment he had closed the boot of the car, I had been shut into darkness and forced to listen to the engine and the tyres rumbling over asphalt. My wrists were restrained behind my back with a zip tie and he had slapped a strip of packing tape over my mouth to ensure I’d remain quiet throughout the journey. Attempting to moisten my lips and force the tape off my tongue wasn’t working. Tensing the muscles in my arms to tear the zip tie from my wrists was pointless; the plastic strap cut into my flesh and my injured shoulder burned, leaving me in agony.

  He hadn’t taken my phone away from me, though. Perhaps he didn’t know I had it; I could feel its flat shape in the pocket of my jeans, pinned between my thigh and the boot floor, but the vibrations of the car prevented me from detecting if I had received any messages. Somehow, I would have to untie my hands so I could call for help, but for now, I prayed he wouldn’t discover it.

  I hadn’t seen his face in the house as he was wearing a balaclava, but one thing I did know was that he was taller than me and I recognised his voice. It was the man from the party, the man who had propositioned me outside. I knew now that I’d found my stalker. I needed to see his face, to confirm that I knew him, whether I ever escaped him or not.

  When the car finally stopped and he put on the hand-brake, I knew we were inside a garage. The clunking of the automatic door whirring closed was followed by a passenger door opening and closing, and seconds later, the boot sprung open. His dark silhouette was just a shadow in the dimness of the orange garage lights. Squinting, I stared up at him.

  “I’m going to help you climb out of the boot. Don’t forget to be a good boy,” he reminded me, one hand carefully pushing aside the hem of his black wool coat so I could see the concealed carry he wore beneath. The black metal of the pistol shimmered in its brown leather holster before it disappeared beneath his coat once more. He waited until I had nodded before he was convinced I would cooperate, then grabbed me by the arms. I grunted with discomfort as he dragged me out and helped me stand, my bare feet cold on the concrete ground.

  After slamming the boot shut, he guided me to the open door that lead into his home. The house was in darkness due to the hour, and not knowing where I was going, I bumped my shins against furniture and knocked my elbows on door frames, reluctant to slow down as when I did, I felt the sharp end of a knife press into the bottom of my back. I was so afraid and my heart was thumping so heavily that it felt like it might leap right out of my chest.

  He took me upstairs, and I was aware of how large this house actually was. He must have had a well-paying job to be able to afford a home like this, and I didn’t understand how someone who appeared to be socially mobile needed to kidnap someone when he could probably find a date quite easily if he tried being polite. In the upstairs hallway, a folding wooden ladder lead up to the black square that hid a loft hatch above. He didn’t untie my hands, he only pressed me on, urging me up the ladder as he climbed behind me and giving me no choice but to go higher.

  I knew he could kill me at any moment if he so desired. I had no idea where I was or how far from home—or even how far from civi
lisation—he had taken me. We could be in the middle of the countryside; no one would hear me if I screamed for help.

  I struggled through the loft hatch, inching my way onto the attic floor like a seal wriggling up a beach. He knelt and pulled up the ladder, unhooking the steel bar that propped open the hatch door so the heavy-duty spring could let it swing shut and cast us into total darkness.

  I fought off the overwhelming sensation that I was about to cry. There was the sound of a bolt being drawn across, then his shoes clopping on the wooden floor as he crossed the low-ceilinged space. He switched on a lamp, the sudden brightness hurting my eyes before they adjusted to it. His shape passed in front of it, dimming it slightly and enabling me to properly see what was around me. It was a large attic, and a broad, squat bed with blue sheets stood central to one end of it, the lamp atop the bedside table. There was another cabinet behind me, and a cushioned footstool had been placed at the foot of the bed. Two oblong windows were built into the roof, but they were covered by blackout curtains. The loft might have looked like a relatively cosy, den-like bedroom if it weren’t for the other things that adorned it.

  Pictures covered almost every inch of the ceiling and most of the walls. At first, I didn’t quite realise what they showed, but as I looked closer, I began to make out the faces and the bodies they depicted. All of them were men like me. Every single one. Some of them fully clothed, some of them naked. The pictures that clustered around the bed area were pornographic in nature, some hardcore, some fetish-themed, others clearly amateur sexy selfies taken in the bathroom mirror. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I understood, but I couldn’t believe it, and I dreaded what this meant for me. A long rack with hooks bore countless whips, chains, canes and other sexual paraphernalia. I knew what those were for.

  “What do you think of my lair?” He chuckled as he pulled off the balaclava and tossed it on the floor. At last, I got to see his face. The man I had seen in the café at work numerous times; the man who had bumped into David so hot chocolate spilled onto him. Young and good-looking but not my type. Friendly, to a point. The man who had cost me my job.

  “You don’t have to say anything.” He laughed, knowing full well I could do little else but grunt with the tape over my mouth

  He placed the blade, a generic kitchen knife, on the cabinet and slipped off his coat, giving me a better view of the gun.

  “Bet you’re wondering who I am and why I’ve brought you here, huh? Don’t worry, you’ll get to know me better soon enough. My name’s Dean, by the way. Richie’s little brother. You weren’t so friendly towards me at the Halloween party, which is a shame because I thought if I could seduce you, I wouldn’t have to abduct you like this, but I can’t help that you forced my hand this way.” He unbuckled his holster, removing it. “I’m a good guy, really. I can be a very kind person. But I expect kindness in return.”

  I looked up at him as he approached, knowing I was totally helpless, and terrified that my phone might fall from my jeans pocket.

  “Let’s get you comfortable for the night.” He smiled enthusiastically as he grabbed handfuls of my T-shirt and set about dragging me along the wooden floor. As soon as I figured out he was taking me to the bed, I started to buck furiously, emitting an enraged yet muffled cry, until suddenly, his hand struck my face.

  “Shut up! Don’t forget, I can shoot you at any moment! And don’t think that’ll make a difference to me; I’m not gonna let you go even if you’re dead,” he shouted, a droplet of his saliva landing on my cheek. I fell still, wheezing as my heart palpitated madly.

  He stared with a threat in his eyes until he was sure that I wouldn’t start making a fuss. Once we reached the bed, he hauled me onto it but I didn’t do anything to make it easier for him. Instead, I went completely limp, forcing him to lift my dead weight onto the bouncy mattress. The staring faces of fellow trans men peered down at me from above, causing me to shudder and close my eyes. Chains connecting leather cuffs to the bedposts tinkled as he secured my legs. At last, he tore the tape from my face and I gasped as it ripped out some of my beard hairs.

  “That’s better. Don’t forget the number one rule. No screaming or shouting. I’ll have to beat you as punishment. I suppose you’re into that sort of thing, though, aren’t you? You’ll come to enjoy being mine after we’ve consummated our new relationship.”

  “You should see a psychiatrist,” I breathed, trying to calm my heavy panting. “You’re crazy.”

  “No, not crazy. Just lonely.” He smiled.

  “Lots of people are lonely but they don’t go around kidnapping people to lock up in their secret sex rooms,” I retorted, knowing he could see me fighting to keep the tears in my eyes at bay. “You could hold me here a hundred years and I’d never love you.”

  “You think love is what I want from you?” he scoffed amusedly as he straightened and used his index finger to loosen his tie.

  “A lonely man doesn’t want just sex.”

  My words seemed to strike a raw nerve because his face twisted into a pained grimace, but that soon evolved into a sneer. Instead, he took the knife from the cabinet and I shrank away in fear when he turned toward me. I was relieved when he used it to cut the zip tie around my wrists, though I was too afraid to fight back knowing that if I did, he might plunge that blade into my torso and kill me. I allowed him to tie my arms above my head, two more leather cuffs buckled around my wrists, so I was stretched in the position of an X.

  “There. I’m going to shower, and when I come back, we’ll get better acquainted,” he declared as he turned towards the hatch.

  I peered down my body, watching as he opened the hatch door and began descending the ladder, and that’s when his phone started to ring. It was only when he reached the bottom that he answered the call and I heard him talking.

  Knowing this was a chance not to be missed, I sucked in a deep breath and started screaming. “Help! Help!” I howled, over and over again, praying the person on the other end of the call would hear my voice in the background.

  Suddenly, his footfalls hammered up the ladder and he burst into the loft. I stopped my clamouring as he swiped his gun from the cabinet top, freeing it from the holster and pointing it at me.

  “SILENCE!” he bellowed as the gun discharged.

  My heart skipped a beat and my whole body stiffened as I expected the bullet to strike me, but nothing happened. When I opened my eyes, the white puffs of eiderdown feathers drifted in the air around me and I realised he had shot the pillow next to my head. Warmth in the crotch of my trousers told me I had wet myself out of fright.

  “If you make another sound, if I hear another fucking peep out of you, I won’t hesitate to blow your brains out,” he warned, placing the weapon on the cabinet once more. “Consider that your first real warning.”

  I couldn’t utter a reply; my breath was choking me and my whole body was shaking violently. For several seconds, he observed me, then went back down the ladder, leaving me on my own.

  * * * *

  I lay there silently, just as he wanted. I couldn’t hear much of what was going on downstairs. I couldn’t tell if he had neighbours close by, if the house was detached or whether those unknown neighbours might be able to hear me through the walls. He seemed awfully obsessed about me being quiet so perhaps there were people nearby.

  I opened my eyes when I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, relieved that the ring-tone was turned off because of Snaffle. Someone had sent me a message; could it be Gerard? I hoped that he and Growler would come home and notice I was missing. I needed to contact someone, anyone, for help but there was no way I could get my phone with my body restrained as it was.

  I tried to squeeze my hands through the thick, leather cuffs, but he had buckled them too tightly. I had no desire to injure myself just to get free, not when I knew there was a chance he might untie me at some point. There was no way he could keep me tied down forever, unless he wanted to recreate that repulsive Sloth scene from the mov
ie Se7en and I was fairly certain he didn’t want me to end up looking like a melting zombie. He probably wouldn’t find me so attractive anymore. Maybe I was wrong. I tried my best not to let my fear overcome me, but my mind kept going back to the bullet hole in the cushion beside my head, knowing that next time it could be my skull exploding, not a piece of soft furnishing.

  Footsteps on the ladder alerted me to his approach and he emerged into the loft, his hair damp and a towel wrapped ‘round his waist. He smiled at me, but I only glared back.

  “Miss me?” he quipped, stopping at the bedside and removing the towel so he could rub his hair dry. I looked away, not wanting him to think I might be interested in his naked body. Then again, maybe that might be a good idea. If I could make him think that I would behave myself, if I could trick him into believing that I wanted to have sex with him, maybe he’d untie me?

  The towel slipped from his face and he peered down at me, my eyes slowly rising to make contact with his. He grinned.

  “Like what you see, huh?” he assumed, but I didn’t answer. He chucked the towel on the floor and faced me, giving me full view of his bare form. He was already semi-erect.

  “I had no idea that you were so…attractive under your clothes,” I remarked, struggling to keep my face serious as I cringed at what I was saying. It was so hard to be convincing when I was both afraid of him losing his temper and disgusted by the sight of him.

  “You didn’t like the look of me in my suit?” He sounded disappointed.

  “Oh, no, I did. It’s just that I have a boyfriend, so of course I couldn’t allow him to see that I was attracted to you,” I explained, all the while feeling like such an idiot. Surely he wasn’t going to believe this nonsense; surely he wasn’t that stupid.