by Unknown
The emotion caught me unprepared and brought tears to my eyes. "I don't know how I was before you, but I know I won't ever be the same," I said as I moved myself deeper into his arms.
He held me for a little while, making me feel comfortable and safe, but eventually the stickiness from my coating of oil began to bother me.
"I'm going to run downstairs and take a quick shower. I wanna get this stuff off of me," I said, referring to the oil still covering me.
Justin kissed me lightly. "There's a huge tub up here with our name on it. Even have the bubbles."
I laughed. "You do try to think of everything. If only you had candles and my shampoo—I'd let you wash my hair," I said giggling.
"Herbal Essences, Honey I'm Strong," he said. "That’s the perfect name for my Warrior." He rolled off the couch and stood. "I'll go run the water and light the candles. How hot do you like it?"
"Scolding," I replied, stunned. "How do you know what shampoo I use?"
He laughed at me. "I've used your bathroom, and I'm observant. You underestimate me."
Justin winked at me just before he turned and went inside. "I'll come get you in a minute," he hollered back at me.
Of course I'm smiling, how could any girl not after that? He always makes sure I know I matter. My clothes are still hanging behind the hot tub where I'd left them, and Justin's are tossed into a heap there as well.
I went to gather up our things. It was the least I could do after letting him take me out for a romantic dinner and dessert, tell me that he loves me, lay back and do nothing while he fucked my brains out, and then treated me like a princess.
I was bent over picking everything up when I hear him coming up from behind. "Do you like the view?" I asked before I stood with my arms full with our stuff.
As I listened for his answer, a black hood went over my head and choked my throat closed.
I don't think this is funny at all, and I am going to tell him that as soon as I can get the damn thing off.
That's when the asshole stabbed me in the shoulder with something sharp. This was too far. I don't like it, not at all!
I'm angry as hell, and I'm gonna let him know it, show him what a warrior does to a man that puts his hands on a woman.
But I might throw up first. I feel dizzy.
My legs wobble.
Maybe...sit down.
Or...
I WAS AWAKE FOR ten or fifteen minutes before I realized it. For most of that time, I was laying here in the dark thinking that I was dreaming. My head is a swimming mess, and the darkness is so thick I have trouble breathing in it.
Once I realized this isn't a dream, I tried to think about where the hell I could be. The last thing I remember—
Nothing was coming to me at first. I was with Justin, I know that. I remember dinner, and a boat ride. Cheesecake, I remember that, too.
Suddenly a hot tub comes to mind.
The penthouse, I remember now. Being tied up, but I'm not sure if that had anything to do with where I am now. There's no space here. I'm curled in a ball and there's no place for my legs to go. I can remember being tied up, but being happy about it at the time.
Suddenly—BOOM! Everything is moving. For an instant, I am floating, until my head hits the top and then cracks back on the floor below. I bounce up and down quickly a few times and then my body settles back into the almost pleasant hum it had moments before.
There's a smell in here, a hint of gasoline.
I remember Justin untying me, and going to run a bath for us, feeling absolutely wonderful and pampered.
There is another sudden bounce that was not as violent as the last one, and for some reason it gives me the feeling that I am moving.
Justin was behind me, I remember that now. I was getting our clothes and he came up from behind me and—
And attacked me—just like the man in the dark hoodie! Just like that fucking coward! For all I know, that guy was working with him, a friend of Justin's.
I can't believe this.
Maybe this had all been planned!
I'm a little dizzy, and I feel my heart racing. He'd shot meet up with something. I recall the needle in my arm, and passing out. Even now, I am struggling for every thought, still under the effect of whatever it was. I think the rush of my emotions is boosting it back into effect.
I can't believe he did this to me, and put me...here.
I try to lift my arm and it weighs hundreds of pounds. I think my hands might be tied together. Whatever it is, I'm having trouble moving.
The gasoline smell hits me again, and my head swims. It's not mixing well with the drugs in my system.
That bastard, putting me through this! I thought he cared for me, loved me.
Feeling tired again.
My little room bounces. I think it did that before. My face crushes into the hard, felt-like floor, and I hear something metallic clang under me.
It still feels like I'm moving and I can't figure that out. I feel myself going under again, smelling gasoline.
I'M LYING IN THE dark, pretty sure my hands and feet are tied together like a hog, and I'm trying to piece together where I am and how I got here. I'm also sure I was awake earlier, too, but I don't recall much more than a few blurry memories. Even now, every thought has a haze. If I stood, I'm sure I'd fall right back down, but I feel less high than I think I did before.
My evening came together in sketchy pieces, but the basics are all here. Justin was a mistake, not who I thought he was at all, and now he has me prisoner in the trunk of a car from what I can tell. I see little beams of light coming in through a few tiny spaces, and it feels hot, more so than I think I remember from before.
The sun is up.
As it settles into my mind that I've been abducted, I'm overwhelmed with fear and I'm fighting the desire to start screaming at the top of my lungs.
My pulse is so heavy that it makes my throat swell shut through each whomp!
I'm sure Justin will be the only one that hears me if I make any sound. There's something in my mouth blocking me anyway, and I realize it's his ball gag, the same one I'd used willingly earlier. I am working hard to stop myself from crying from both the fear and the heartache.
I'm petrified. What will he do to me when we stop?
My hands and feet literally tingle with fear.
I'm alright for right now, I try to convince myself. I'm alright for right now, and as long as I'm alright, there's a chance to get out of this.
Every time I smell the gasoline, it takes my mind away from the terror for a moment.
That's what I need! Focus on something, anything, other than my heartbreak, other than what might happen.
I test my bindings to see if I can get out, needing to know. I pull, straining my arms until my shoulders want to rip. When that doesn't work, I try harder, ignoring the persistent thump of my pulse in my ears.
Nothing!
I try even harder, using my legs this time, hearing myself whimper from the pain.
Why isn't it working?
Again! Still nothing!
The thumping of my heart is painful. I am panicking again, feeling it rise up from my depths.
Stop it! I'm no good to myself like this.
I'm alright right now, I remind myself.
I settle down the best that I can. My brain is the only weapon I have right now, and if I let that slide into hysterics, I'll have nothing. I'd be defenseless, and as helpless as I feel, that would make it worse. I just need to calm down and think.
What do I know for a fact? I'll start with that, put together what I know and see if anything stands out.
I am definitely locked in the trunk of a car, I can hear the engine, and the tires grinding the road, and I can feel every bump and pothole we hit. Just as certainly, I was hog tied and gagged, still without any of my clothes from the feel of it.
Bastard!
It was early when we had gotten back to our building, and I'm guessing we had sex for a little over
2 hours. It could not have been later than 11 o'clock when I was taken. If we have been driving since, and the sun is up, then we we're well out of New York and easily a couple states away.
I have no idea when the last stop for gas was, but eventually there was going to have to be another. And now I am awake. That could be my chance to make some noise and be heard. If I can get my face any closer to the light I see coming in that will give me the best odds.
What I had to do for even a few tiny inches was not easy or pretty, not with my hands tied to my ankles behind my back. It took a lot of rolling and straining, being careful not to rock the whole car, and I can feel my shoulder and hip being rubbed raw on the stiff matting of the trunk floor. I got there, that was the important thing. Now there was nothing left to do but wait and think.
It wasn't long before the heartbreak of losing Justin set in.
The car was humming along at a good clip, rarely slowing, occasionally swerving for a lane change, so there was plenty of time to dwell on it. I thought about all the moments we had that made me fall for him, all the times he made my heart lust for him. I didn't see this coming, not at all. He was so protective over me, and made me feel so safe, this just seemed impossible.
As mad as I am at him, it's nothing compared to the sadness and loss I feel. I truly believed he was the one, that we were connected souls. That he could confess his love for me and then betray me like this is beyond my comprehension.
My heart wants me to believe it isn't true, that there is a way this isn't his doing, but I feel foolish entertaining that at all. We were there alone; it was his ball gag in my mouth, probably his straps that have me hog tied. It was my hearts wishful thinking, nothing more. My head, my common sense, knew better.
Not seeing his face before he tossed the hood over my head is not reason enough to hope. Not hearing him utter a single word when I spoke to him, or when he jammed the needle in my arm, is not reason to hope.
It seemed like common sense, until my common sense asked another question, a very simple one. Why would he have me all tied up in his bondage gear, and then release me to toss a hood over my head and drug me so that he could tie me up in bondage gear again? My heart chimed in, taking advantage at the glimmer of hope. Why not just climb off me and jam the needle in me while I was already at his mercy? Suddenly, it doesn't make a damn bit of sense any other way.
Both heart and mind agreed, if this really was Justin, he would have shot me up when he had me. There is a chance, a very good one, that Justin had nothing to do with this. If he was not involved, then he was still exactly the man I hoped he was.
Instead of that making me feel better, I’m utterly miserable. There was no way the Justin I know would have ever let this happen to me—not while he was alive.
Justin was either in the front of this car driving it, or he was hurt—or dead!
There is nothing else I can do right now. I listened to the hum of the road for a while. The trunk is getting hotter, making my head pound as I think myself in circles. Sweat runs off me in long trails, and my hair is matted to my face and neck in clumps.
Eventually, the combination of heat and exhaustion, and the still present drugs, put me in a state where I keep coming in and out of sleep. I catch myself jerking awake, and each time I am out, it feels longer than the last.
I'm crying miserably while I'm awake, scared for Justin, terrified for myself. It's using energy I should try to save, but my willpower drained away long ago.
I smell gasoline. I think I noticed that earlier.
I'd faded out again. I don't know for how long, but it was definitely too long. Everything is different now when my eyes opened. I am still in the dark, hot trunk, but it it’s different.
The hum of the road is gone. We are stopped and I had nearly missed it.
Shit!
My heart jumped into my throat, and I feel myself start to hyperventilate from the panic. I don't know how long we've been here. I don't know if he's still in the car with me or not.
I don't know a thing! I fucked up!
I was crying before I knew I was going to. The first thing I need to do is listen, so I shut myself up and picked my head up so that my ear is closer to the sliver of daylight coming through the cracks in the trunk door.
At first there is nothing. I strain my ears, and now I hear something minute.
Gravel. Footsteps on gravel.
There was a sharp pop right in front of me, and the sliver of light grew.
I start to cry harder.
The trunk door swings wide. The flood of sunlight blinded me. I force my eyes open despite the pain, demanding they focus.
The hooded man is there, an ominous silhouette in the brightness. His hands are reaching toward me.
I let out the loudest scream the gag will allow. As I struggle and fight to move, straining at my ties like an animal ready to chew its leg off for freedom, a needle pierces my arm again.
Coward bastard!
There are only seconds of consciousness left, I know. Before I go out, I want to know if it's Justin or not. I face him and lock my stinging eyes on him.
Only a dark shadow stares out at me from the hood. The darkness spreads out like inky smoke. It blotted out the sun and then all the sounds.
I already cannot recall where the darkness started, but that is all there is now, silence and blackness.
And I'm so tired.
CHAPTER VII
When I come to, I have no idea where I am or what time of day or night it is. I'm lying on a cold, tiled floor, and my body is aching as much as my head. The only good change is that I'm no longer hog tied and the ball gag is gone. Now my hands and feet are all in front of me and I can actually move a little. The tiles are ice cold on my still bare flesh.
I sit up, hearing the metal links rattling on the hard tiles. There's a tub and a toilet next to me, and shackles on my wrists and ankles with chains tying them together, and to the plumbing. I can move but not very much, not very far. On the wall across from me there are two hideous paintings of conch shells with fake wicker frames. There are more shells on the shower curtain.
My insides suddenly stab at me, sending screaming pain throughout my stomach. At least now I understand why he'd locked me in the bathroom. I hadn't gone in maybe almost twenty-four hours.
It isn't pretty. My head is a cloudy, dizzy storm. I have to hold on to the countertop and the tub wall on either side of me to keep upright on the toilet. As soon as I am done, I dropped back to the floor and watch the ceiling spin like merry-go-round.
It makes me cry helplessly.
While I lay here, I feel my eyes close a few times, and when they open again, I have no idea how long it's been. There's no window, no clock. Time has no meaning or measure right now; it's just a passing idea.
This last time I woke up to find a bottle of water and a cold slice of pizza sitting on a plate just inside the door. I stared at it for a while, some of the time just trying to focus my eyes on it to decide if it's real or not, and the rest deciding if I'm going to eat it. I'm starving, and my mouth is so dry my lips are cracked and my tongue is soar. A full night and day with a gag in it had caused that.
I think about screaming, but I know that will be a mistake. If he took away the gag, then he doesn't care if I scream. If he doesn't care if I scream, then we are someplace I won't be heard if I do.
The only attention screaming would get me would be his, and I'm not ready for that.
I lift myself off the floor and crawl to the water on my hands and knees. The top is still sealed and I'm grateful for that. At least I know it's safe. I twist the cap off and swig half the bottle, stopping myself by force so that I can save at least a little bit for later. My throat is so soar, the first few gulps seem to tear their way down.
As soon as I put the cap back on the water, I begin sobbing. My head clears a bit, but fear fills the new space. I'm so hungry, yet I need to throw up at the same time. The slice of pizza is teasing me, as if it knows I'm
too scared to eat it.
What if he did something to it? The water was sealed, that was the only reason I'd trusted it.
I don't think it would be poisoned, but I'm worried he will drug me again. If he wanted to kill me, I'd be dead already. He could have shot poison right into me earlier, so he was keeping me around. Whoever it was, he wants me for something, wants me alive, at least for now.
Sooner or later, I'm going to need to eat something. The longer I wait, the weaker I become. I don't like that at all. The thought of being too weak to help myself is utterly terrifying.
I grab the edge of the plate between my fingertips and slide it along the floor closer to me. For a few minutes I just stare at the pizza and cry. I know I shouldn't eat it, and I know I have to. My tears hang on to my chin desperately before failing and dropping off to land on my bare breasts.
Eventually, I see my hand out in front of me as it grabs the pizza and folds in half. It brings it to my mouth, and I feel my jaw close around it. My face feels like it belongs to somebody else as the muscles work to chew and swallow.
I don't stop myself. Moments later it is all gone, and I wait to see what will happen next. I push the plate away and take another swig of the water, waiting to see if I'm going to get sick or pass out.
My eyes grew heavy quickly. Only a few minutes later, and I am convincing myself that it’s okay to lie down on the cool tiles. It’s perfectly fine. Their coolness felt good on my fiery body. I don't recall when I'd gotten so hot. My throat was better now, my stomach was no longer screaming at me, and those are good things. Everything is good. Everything thing is going to be alright.
Bob Marley's voice filled my mind.
"Don't worry 'bout a thing, 'Cause every little thing’s gonna be all right."
I am alright, just like the song said. I keep humming the words in my mind until they become a blur. There was something about smiling at a rising sun, and three little birds, but everything else is slipping away from me.
It was going to be alright. I was going to be alright.
