by J P Sayle
Stuart felt his body’s visceral reaction, groaning in utter despair when his bowels turned to water at the sound of the engine cutting off outside the building.
Fright had him freezing before the pain in his wrists reminded him to hide them. Seconds later dim light casted shadows over the room as the door burst open. Chills wracked his body, not only from the blast of cold air, but also from the sing song voice that bellowed menacingly.
“Hi, honey, I’m home. Did you miss me, because I missed you so much while I was tucked up warm in my lovely bed, but you needn’t worry, I’m going to show you just how sorry I am for leaving you.”
Joel’s scary presence had him shrivelling back, choking back the moan that wanted to escape. The thudding door closing behind him left an ominous silence, making Stuart think of a coffin lid closing, shutting out the light forever.
Stuart choked back the screams at his macabre thoughts. His gritty eyes were glued to Joel’s every movement. The jarring chuckles as Joel approached Stuart made his blood want to freeze, but his hammering heart had other ideas. Stuart was convinced he was going to stroke out, his heart was racing so hard, feeling it pulse up in his throat, almost choking him.
“Well, now what are we going to do with you first?”
Joel’s menacing words had Stuart feel his skin shrink two sizes, he was absolutely sure it was too small for his body, making him struggle to escape its constricting hold. His insides quaked at what realities that question held. A cold sweat beaded across his damp skin, Stuart could feel the cold penetrate not only his clothes but his very soul as Joel leant over him.
Stuart’s nose twitched in revulsion at the smell of rank body odour and bad breath. Joel’s foul breath touched his chilled face, making his muscles lock in terror. He felt the air back up in his lungs as large beefy hands snaked across his body, making his stomach revolt. Stuart heaved, his empty stomach wrenched and twisted in agony when Joel squeezed his crotch unrelentingly. His howls rent the air leaving him hoarse, the pain making his eyes roll back in his head hiding from the reality.
Stuart strained back into the wood beneath him, not finding any escape. His shocked system unprepared for the solid punch to his abdomen, spittle flew out of Stuart’s mouth as air whooshed out on a wail. Gasping, Stuart felt the intensity of the pain bloom inside him, hitting targets left, right, and centre. His brain struggled to adjust to his new certainty: that this was only the beginning.
Joel’s large hands unapologetically headed back to his groin, yanking hard. Stuart felt Joel’s heavy scrutiny with each twist of his large hand. Stuart writhed, feeling his tears leak past his scrunched eyes, unbearable pain morphed into a continuous monster as Joel made his penis twist and bend in ways no man should ever feel. His throat raw, each scream feeling as if they were ripping his throat to shreds.
Stuart felt his whole being was just a large ball of suffering, no beginning and no end. It was almost as if he was floating out of his body, his mind ceased to function under the onslaught of heinous suffering. Joel’s tormenting hands allowing no respite, time ceased to exist under the blanket of agony.
He barely registered the viciousness dripping from Joel’s smile as he moved around the table, before a massive fist connected with his face. Stuart could feel the darkness tugging him away, as his body turned to a jellied mess. Stuart felt a momentary second of relief that the darkness would take him away, before his mind shut down.
Stuart felt his awareness creep under the layer of indescribable pain, he froze playing like a musical statue when his body sang from even the merest of movements. Swallowing past the razor blades stuck in his ripped throat, Stuart whimpered in agony, frantically wishing the darkness would suck away his reality. He wondered how he still had any tears left, but he could feel them fall down his tight swollen skin, the salt adding to his misery as it stung.
Besieged in misery, Stuart felt the dread rise when he couldn’t open his right eye. Light filtered into the slit that was his left eye, moving his head gingerly he wept to see the blurry room.
He struggled to think what he’d been doing before Joel had come back. His sluggish mind taking a second to catch up, he frantically searched the dim lit room, listening for any sounds to alert him where Joel was. Stuart wheezed out an agitated breath at the feeling of emptiness in the building, ignoring his screaming body at his sudden movements, he sagged back in relief. Groaning, he sucked in greedy mouthfuls of stagnant air willing his agonized body to behave, to give him a moment.
He wasn’t sure where one agony started and another ended, but the painful numbness in his hands and feet frightened him witless. Stuart tried valiantly to ignore his shouting thoughts of how much more he could take of Joel’s idea of play time.
Sobbing past the shrieks of agony that escaped his cracked lips, he worked his swollen wrists to the edge of the wood. His thoughts motivating him to keep trying no matter how much it hurt, images burnt into his mind of what would happen if he didn’t. He let them besiege his mind, encouraging him past the torment he was putting his body through.
Stuart blinked his sticky left eye repeatedly attempting to stop it from drooping, fighting with everything in him. He brought Joe’s beautiful smiling face into his mind, seeing his melted chocolate gaze clinging to his after their last kiss. His mind clung to the love he was convinced had shone out of Joe’s eyes, he may not have said the words but his eyes couldn’t hide from him.
Stuart felt endless tears slide from his battered eyes, acknowledging the painful truth he’d hidden deep inside since Joel had kidnapped him, he had no intention of letting him go. The injustice had shouts of rage ripping past his raw throat, thrashing, no longer able to keep the anguish in. He howled and wailed at the injustice, his hope demolished under the grief. His loss devastating, his fragile control allowed his rage to consume him whole, feeling nothing other than the white heat of his anger.
Stuart felt the dense weight of exhaustion hit, his heavy gasps rang in his ears, taunting him for his own stupid behaviour. Stuart held still, distracted by a scraping noise hardly penetrating through the chaos inside him. He tried to quieten his ragged breathing, was someone there? Had he got it wrong and Joel hadn’t left at all? Immobilised by his fearful question, Stuart jerked at the sound of a voice shouting through the door.
“Hello, hello is there someone in there?”
The stranger’s voice left him breathless as hope flared to life drowning out everything else. Disregarding his shredded throat he yelled out using every bit of strength he had to answer. “Yes, in here, please help, please help me.” Stuart willed his unrecognisable voice to be loud enough to be heard.
Listening for a few seconds he felt his fear grip hard when the silence lengthened. Where had they gone?
Stuart’s heart raced at the sound of wood splintering behind his head, squealing in agony as light blinded his slitted left eye.
“Hello, can you hear me?”
The timid voice sounded like nirvana to his ears, he physically forced his one eye open a fraction to look at the blurry face floating above him. Not able to make out his features, but the freckles smattered across his nose and cheeks stood out in stark contrast to the white face. His hazy perusal interrupted when the man spoke.
“Oh my fucking God, what the hell is going on in here? What the hell happened to you, man? This is some freaky shit, really, when does this ever happen to people that live here?” The melodic voice rambled, but his pale blue eyes seemed to take over his whole face, pale skin blanching in horror as they took in the state of him.
Not sure he wanted to know how bad he looked, Stuart felt the urgency to get out push him to speak past his ragged throat. “Please untie me quickly, I don’t know when he’ll come back.” Stuart’s hoarse begging sobs had the man pulling back. Panic flared so deep he struggled to get the words to leave his mouth. “Pleaseeee… pleaseeee… don’t leave… me here.” Stuart wept inconsolably, his swollen eye barely able to see what the man was doing, his
fear eating at his sanity.
“I won’t leave you, but I don’t have anything to cut the rope with, just give me a second to find something to help me get you free of those bindings, okay?”
Not waiting for Stuart to respond the man scuttled away. Stuart breathed a huge sigh of relief that he wasn’t going to leave him there. Puffing his swollen cheeks out, Stuart cringed grinding his teeth together to hold onto the whimpers as his bruises sang out a tune of pain and misery. He held on to the determination he could hear in the man’s voice. A voice that, for some reason, niggled at him but not able to grasp why when nothing seemed to want to get past the one repetitive mantra his mind was fixated on, hurry, hurry, hurry.
Stuart worked harder than he had ever in his life to keep the dread at bay when his body gave a constant reminder of what would happen if he didn’t get out of that room and soon. The sound of feet clattering back in the room, caused a wave of relief so huge, it hit Stuart’s body.
He jerked and agony danced through him. Uncaring this time when the man held salvation in his hands, something, he thought that maybe a pair of pliers. Praying he wasn’t wrong and his one good eye wasn’t playing tricks on him, his lips curled up bursting open his lower lip. Giving it up as a bad joke he swiped at his wet lip tasting the coppery flavour of his own blood, balking he spat it out. Stuart almost laughed at his own stupidity when pain morphed across his battered face.
So lost in his own misery he hadn’t noticed the man grab at his swollen left wrist cutting at the rope, making him cry out in agony. “Arghhhhhh.”
The man never wavered, his apology sounding heartfelt to Stuart’s battered hearing. “Sorry, but your wrists are a mess, I don’t think I can do this without hurting you. Take a deep breath and hold it, this bit, I think maybe worse. It’s really embedded in your skin. Ready?”
Stuart’s left eye tried to focus on the shiny eyes above him, following his instructions, he drew in a large gulp of his own putrid smelling stench. Trying not to gag, he gave a small nod, gritting his teeth. Holding as still as possible, he let the other man work. His muscles quivered under the strain to stay in place as the man yanked the rope, finally freeing his wrists. Relief had Stuart moving too fast, retching he hugged his heaving stomach, pleased for small mercies that his arms obeyed. Gulping in large deep breaths through his mouth not wanting to get another sniff of himself, he held on letting the man free his ankles, his slitted puffy eye imploring him to hurry up.
The distant sound of an engine had Stuart freezing, his gaze glued to what he thought looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights. The man unmoving stared at him, the hands holding his now free ankle, quivered. Motivating Stuart into action, reminding him neither of them wanted to be there, regardless of who was coming.
“Oh fuck, quick, please. We can’t let him catch us.” Stuart’s strangled voice pushed past the razor sharpness in his throat. His mindless fear taking control, he pulled carelessly at the remaining rope around his foot. Not giving a shit what damage it might cause, his need to escape the only priority. His legs buckled as the man attempted to help him stand, the rush of blood too much to bear, the numbness filled with endless burning as his nerves fired back to life. Stuart wheezed, uncertain he could stay conscious as pain yanked ruthlessly at him, trying to suck him back into oblivion.
Stuart gripped on to the man’s body, willing the warm human contact to help steady him, and fight off the urge to just curl up into a ball on the floor to die. He leant against the smaller man, taking comfort in his presence for a second longer before he took a deep breath, making the hair raising agony that were his limbs, move towards the open window. The few steps had his already drenched shirt sticking to his even clammier skin. The giddiness making his head swim so viscously he felt he was on a boat in a force ten gale, stomach pitching violently, he had stop to hold on to the wall for a second before he collapsed in a big heap.
“Come on, man, you gotta move faster than this. Otherwise whoever is coming, is going to catch us both. And I for one do not want to end up looking like you, that’s for sure.” The man’s hands dragged at him as his shrill words drilled holes in his pounding head. Stuart struggled with all his might to push past the waves of nausea and dizziness, throwing his body over the ledge of the window. Landing with a thud, his teeth clattered in his head as his bones rattled making him howl, his mind begging for mercy when painful sensations gripped tightly, holding him hostage in his own body.
Pale small hands dragged at Stuart not giving him a second, he staggered up, weaving drunkenly around, unsure his feet were even on the ground. His greying vision making it difficult to comprehend which way was up as he felt a sturdy shoulder shove under his arm. The smaller man’s strength encouraging him to lean on him, giving in to temptation he leant against him, following his lead as best as he could.
Stuart tried to take stock of where they were, hoping it would help determine how they could hide or get away. The rising sun hid behind the large mountain in front of him, making him realise he was at the bottom of Snaefell mountain. Hardly having a chance to process, his mind froze in terror at the sound of the bike engine shutting off behind the building he had just left.
The man holding him up jolted so hard Stuart was surprised he was still standing as his legs buckled from the shock. The man appeared to gather his wits faster than Stuart when he felt himself being half dragged and half carried towards the slope that led down to the road. His hoarse plea had the man glancing up at him. “Please tell me you have a plan.”
Joe
Joe paced looking down in disgust at his now chewed fingernails, making a concerted effort he pushed his hands into his pockets, hoping they’d stay out of temptations way. The question again popped into his head, driving him nuts. How long does it take to operate on a cat?
“How the hell would I know that?”
Joe’s startled gaze turned to Aaden’s gravelly voice, pulling him out of his thoughts, making him realise he’d spoken out loud. Joe gave Aaden a sheepish smile, shrugging off the harsh response he’d gotten for his trouble. “Sorry, I didn’t realise I’d spoken out loud.” Joe felt his shoulders hunching under Aaden’s angry glare. Okay, so he may have been asking a lot questions over the past several hours, but who could blame him? He was worried out of his mind for both Princess and Stuart, for God sake, can’t a man talk out loud?
Joe huffed, rolling his eyes at Aaden. He went back to pacing, his body unable to keep still for a second. The urge to speak was like an itch between his shoulders, nigh on impossible to ignore, Joe gave up trying. “It’s been several hours. It can’t be much longer, can it? You would think someone would come and tell us what was happening back there.”
Joe’s cheeks billowed in frustration, he could feel his limbs jerking with the effort to stay still and not back down from Aaden’s angry stare off. Joe could feel himself flinching at Aaden’s furiousness.
“I told you the last nine times you asked, I don’t know!”
Aaden
Aaden felt his patience wearing thin, so he attempted to rein it back in like a temperamental horse. A horse had a habit of picking up on the owner’s feelings so he figured his own anger was only contributing to Joe’s escalating anxiety. Making a concerted effort, Aaden shrugged off Joe’s incessant questions which were driving him batty. He heaved a sigh working his hands through his dishevelled hair, letting his tension ease from his tired muscles as he took several deep breaths. He pled it would last more than a few seconds, along with Joe’s silence.
Inching his numb ass to the left, he perched on one ass cheek trying to get comfortable in a chair clearly not built for someone of his size, and more like the size of a Lilliputian. His random thought had his lips tugging up as a smile tried to take hold before Joe’s pacing had it sliding away.
What a right bloody mess this whole situation was, why had he ever listened to Joe? He blamed himself fully for showing leniency when he knew damn well he should have known better. Self-recrimin
ations had Aaden grinding his teeth with the effort from voicing them. Joe definitely didn’t need to hear that shit right now, not when it wouldn’t change a baldy thing for anyone. Then he asked himself why were the constrictor knots his stomach were actively creating, wouldn’t stop. He was convinced even the most proficient sailor would struggle to undo those bastards, at this rate he’d never be able to eat again.
Shaking off his sullen mood and what ifs, knowing nothing was going to change what was happening right now. Aaden’s tired eyes watched Joe jerkily pace, his movements showing how frayed his nerves were becoming.
Aaden pulled Max into him, needing some comfort from his long-time companion. He let his mind centre on their bond, struggling to contain the hurt that stabbed at him when he failed to link with Max. Aaden couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t felt it, shifting closer to Max, icy fear spiked his heart rate, adding to the ache in his chest. Concentrating harder, sweat beaded on his brow, straining under the effort, he bit his lip to stop the cry of defeat when he couldn’t connect.
Oh my God no, he couldn’t lose their connection, he just couldn’t. How would he stay sane with the past that required redemption when he didn’t have Max? Aaden twitched, his body thrumming with anxiety, paying no attention to Joe’s concerned looks. He concentrated on the panic choking him, taking several small gulps of air, hoping they would dislodge the ball in his throat. Distracted, he trailed his large hands over Max’s soft warm fur, his mind reminding him it wasn’t the same without the comfort of Max’s link.
The sound of feet shuffling across the floor had Aaden twisting to look, cursing under his breath at the tiny plastic torture chamber. He was convinced his back was creaking in protest at every movement. Aaden met the weary pale eyed face that peered out from under a theatre cap. Aaden waited for the vet to speak, holding his breath he hoped it was good news for all their sakes. Instead a bony hand beckoned them forward first before speaking.
