“Help me!”

I’m sweating through every pour, tugging harshly at the chain connecting these handcuffs to the wall, all the while trying to remember how the fuck I got here and who in their right mind would do something like this to me.  I don’t know how long it’s been, what day it is, or anything.  I keep thinking, maybe this is a joke.  Maybe Trace, Rachael, and Chris are getting back at me for some idiotic shit I did to them this week.

But I think this is a little bit too much for them to consider.

“Can anyone hear me!” I scream the words, and my voice goes hoarse.  “Please...”  I suck in a breath, and try not to break down crying.  I did before, and it really wore me out.  I can’t be weak anymore.  I know when I woke up I could barely move for awhile and I don’t want to feel that way anymore.  If whoever did this to me shows up, I need to be strong...be ready to defend myself because hell...

I am not dying here.

It’s a long box like room, a single fluorescent light scans the ceiling from end to end.  There are boards over the spaces where the windows should be, and the floor and ceiling are painted a strange mixture of ivory and piss yellow.  The walls have been covered with the same kind of foam they use to soundproof recording studios, and I really hate that I know how well that stuff keeps sound enclosed in a space.  It makes me lose so much hope, knowing that no matter how loud I yell, nobody out there is going to be able to hear me.  I’ve been given an old mattress to lay on, and it smells like somebody took a shit on it and left it here to fester.  It’s caused me to gag at least twice since I woke up, and I’m thankful that they didn’t shove something in my mouth to shut me up, because I probably would have choked on my own vomit otherwise.  It’s the only comforting thing about this situation right now...that I’m alive, and I have to do everything in my power to keep myself this way.

But fuck, I have no idea what I’m even up against yet.

I’m trying to remember what happened before this, where I was, what I said and did.  It was Trace’s birthday.  I drank too much champagne in the car, signed an autograph on my way inside for that cool security guard at...

Fuck, what club was it?

I close my eyes and try to remember a name.  But everything is jumbled.  I can’t remember a single thing after that autograph. I know I was drugged.  There’s no other explanation.  But by who?  And why?  I need answers.  But I’m all alone here.  The windows are boarded up.  I don’t know if it’s day or night.  I could have been knocked out for days for all I know.  I wish someone would come...take these cuffs off me and take me home.

My momma must be having a fucking heart attack by now.

I hope Trace called her.

I start in on the chain pulling again, having the hope that if I just tug hard enough, the screws will fly out of the wall and the floor and I’ll be able to stand up, break the door down and get out of here.  But I’m not stupid.  I looked at those metal loops before.  They’re drilled in, reenforced into the foam and concrete.  Miracles don’t happen like that.  I may work out a lot, my trainer might say that I’m in excellent shape.

But that doesn’t mean I’m pulling reinforced screws out of the wall anytime soon.

I give up, after what seems like forever.  I lean my head back against the wall and close my eyes.  A plan.  I need to think of a plan.  What I’m going to do to get myself out of this situation.  Hell, I have enough time, and I should put it to good use rather than just sit here and wallow in my misery.  I’m a smart guy.  People tell me that a lot.  Well, okay...not Trace.  He tells me I’m an idiot most of the time, but that’s okay.  I need somebody to keep me grounded, and Trace is pretty good at that.  I’ve known the guy my whole life after all.  If he worshiped the ground I walked on we’d have a problem.  

I hope I get to see him again, soon.

I hear something start to rattle, and I feel myself go tense as I look toward the door and see the doorknob turning.  Somebody is here.  I don’t know why, but I back into the corner so I can do something to protect myself.  It’s pointless.  These cuffs more than prove how much control this person has over me.  I’m sure they have a gun, maybe other shit too.  I have to stay calm, I realize.  I can’t let myself be drugged again.  But fuck, I’m terrified. I could get shot right now, and die here.  How am I supposed to remain calm?

The door swings out, revealing the person that’s been hiding behind it.  My heart starts to race, and I try the best I can to see past the body blocking the doorway so I can try to get an inkling as to where I am.  But this person is too quick.  The door is slammed shut as quickly as it was opened.

Now my assailant and I are alone.

I’m afraid to look, thinking that I’m going to see some psychotic asshole with a gun or chainsaw standing in front of me, ready to tear my face off.  I look down at the floor, but the persons footsteps get closer to me and I can’t ignore the individual anymore.  I force myself to look up, into the face of...

Shit.

“Are you okay?”

Her voice is soft, her eyes are dark brown and hypnotizing, and her hair is a light strawberry blond.  She’s beautiful, and strangely familiar looking.

Wow, I must still be out of it.

“I guess,” I whisper, trembling slightly.  “Where am I?”

“Don’t ask a lot of questions, okay?”  She sighs and tosses me a bottle of water.  “Just stay quiet and you’ll be fine.”

I do the best I can with my chained hands to get the cap off the bottle without spilling it all over myself.  I’m successful, but I don’t smile.  I just lift the bottle to my lips and drink eagerly.  I hadn’t realized how dry my mouth and throat were, and I’m thankful she’s decided to show me a little compassion, despite the fact that she’s a psycho for chaining me up in this place.  “Thanks.”

She nods a little.  “You’re calmer than I thought you’d be.”

She’s right.  I shouldn’t be so calm.  I should be screaming for help right now, trying to kick out, get her gun, which I can already see is tucked into the front of her pants.  For some reason though, my mind is telling me not to.  It’s telling me to be calm, and I’ll get me further. So I’ll listen, because it usually doesn’t steer me wrong.  I shrug my shoulders and bring both hands up to my face to scratch an itch.  “I freaked out when I was alone.  It’s pointless to continue.  But I want to know what the fuck is going on,’ I tell her softly.  

“It’s just a ransom,” she explains.  “You’ll be out in a few days.”

“Just a ransom?” I chuckle, tiredly.  “You make it sound like I’ve gone on vacation or something.”

“It could be worse.”

“Oh yeah,” I roll my eyes.  “You’re not going to make me feel better about this situation, you know.”r32;

“Well is there anything I can do to help you?”

I don’t get her.  It’s so weird it’s like...I’m dreaming.  I feel like she and I are old friends, even though she’s kidnapped me.  I must be losing it.  It’s the only explanation.  I hope she’s right.  I hope this is only going to last a few days.  I’ll go home and tell Trace all about how I had a logical, calm conversation with a psycho and he’ll just laugh at me like always.  It makes me feel comforted...thinking about him, about home, and my other friends.  I’m trying not to think about my mom too much.  It upsets me because I’m sure she’s just as freaked out about this as I am and I don’t want to cry anymore today.  “Sure,” I smirk.  “How about you take these cuffs off of me, and let me go?”

“Something logical,” she groans and narrows her eyes at me.  “You like crosswords?  I have a bunch of crossword puzzle magazines if you want them.”

“Are you fucking kidding?”r32;

“Hey, I’m trying here.”

I frown.  “When do I get to talk to my family?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs.  “I’m not in charge of that.”

Yes. Good, Justin.  Keep her talking.  She’s just told me that she’s not alone in all of this, and I need to have shit like that stored in my memory so I can tell the police later.  “Who is?”

She sighs heavily and whips something out of her back pocket.  “If I could tell you that, I wouldn’t have to do this to you.”

“What..”  I begin to say, as she comes around my backside and pulls a cloth tight over my eyes.  Suddenly I’m surrounded by darkness, and I hate it...I hate how terrified it’s making me.  I mean, I’m not afraid of the dark or anything, but I guess this is a little bit different.  I can’t see what’s going to happen.  I think that’s the most terrifying thing about it. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t talk to you anymore,” she says in a rushed voice, as I feel her knot the blindfold tightly behind my head.  “He’ll be here soon.  Just be quiet okay?  He’s going to ask you some stuff, and you need to just tell him and not get cute.”

I shudder a little, knowing that this girl is probably nothing compared to the person I’m about to come in contact with.  It’s weird that she’s okay with me knowing what she looks like, while “he” isn’t.  I don’t get it.  She’s just put herself in jeopardy by letting me see her face, but she doesn’t seem to care either.  I should be grateful for getting the opportunity to see her face though.  Despite how fucked up this all is, I can’t deny that she’s beautiful., and that she reminds me of someone I met someplace.  Fuck, what is it about her?  I press my lips together, trying desperately to think, to remember...

“Are you lost?”

Her voice is soft, but playful, and when my gaze lands on her, I’m left literally breathless.  It’s the girl from the table, and the tiniest part of me thinks that Trace noticed her date was gone and told her to go find me because I’d been staring at her all night.  “Well, I was.” I say, smiling a little.  “But now, I think I’m right where I want to be.”

Holy shit.

I trusted her.  I...I saw her sitting at that table, and the only thing I could think about was how badly I wanted to dance with her.  I let myself go, I let her walk me around that place like I’d known her for years, not even thinking for an instant that she could be a threat to me.  What the fuck?  How could I have been so damn stupid?  My mom would be asking me where I left my brain right now, but I don’t think I even brought it with me that night.

And now I’m here, blindfolded, chained to the wall, about to meet some psychotic guy that probably wants nothing more than the pleasure of shooting me dead once he gets what he wants from me.

I sob.

“Shut up,” she hisses.  “He’s coming.”

I hear the door creak open and bang shut harshly, and I freeze, barely breathing as I hear heavy footsteps make their way towards me.  I wasn’t scared of her, but I’m scared of him, and I don’t even know what he looks like.  He could be a scrawny little shit for all I know, smaller than Trace, somebody I could kick to the ground in a few seconds.  Or, he could be big, burly...Eric sized.  I guess it doesn’t matter.  I’m not finding that information out anytime soon.

“Was he trouble?”

The voice is deep and thick, not southern, but he has a slight accent as if he could be from Boston or Canada.  I’m not really sure which.  I haven’t been to either place in a while.

“No,” I hear her say, the fear in her voice apparent.  “I came in and put the blindfold on him.”

It’s deathly quiet for a few minutes, and then..I feel something cold and hard being pressed into the side of my head.  I’d be stupid if I said I didn’t know that it was a gun, even though I’ve never had one pressed to my head before.  It’s terrifying to think that he could pull the trigger and I’d be dead, and I feel myself shudder hard.  I don’t want that.  I want to live, because I have a hell of a lot to live for.

“What do you remember from last night?” He asks me gruffly.

“Huh?”

I’m slapped across the face harshly, and I moan a little bit.

“You don’t have to hit him,” I hear the girl mutter.  “He’s confused.”

“Shut up,” he barks at her.  “Justin, I asked you a question, and I expect an honest answer.”

Well hell, I’m certainly not going to tell him I remember that his girlfriend, or whoever she is, is the one who seduced me right into his hands.  I don’t know who he’d kill first, and I dunno maybe I’m crazy but I’d feel bad if he killed her right now.  She was nice to me before.  Granted, she’s deceptive but I don’t think she deserves to die, at least not yet.  “What am I supposed to remember?  I went to a party and then...I don’t know, I woke up and I was here.”

I hear the gun clicking.  “Are you sure?”

“Y-yes,” I manage to say.  

“I don’t think he’s lying,” she speaks up again.  “Come on, okay? Everything is all right.”

It occurs to me that he’s terrified of being caught.  That means that he’s not a professional, which means I haven’t been kidnapped by a militant terrorist group, or the Crips.  I guess that’s a good thing.  I might be able to outsmart him if I pay attention and don’t lose my mind when they leave me here alone to suffer again.  Maybe I can work on some melodies in my head, or play some kind of guessing game to keep myself stimulated.

Fuck, am I seriously analyzing what I’m going to do to pass the time right now?

“All right, fine,” the guy mutters.

 A moment later I feel the steel of the gun being pulled away from my head, and it causes me to let out a long breath.  “Please just tell me how much you want,” I say after a moment.  “It’s not an issue, I just want to go home.”

“That really depends,” the guy says.  “I mean, you’re in here.  You can’t get us the money.  It’s up to your family, and how charitable they’re willing to be.  How much do you think you can get out of them if you cry?”

This guy is a fucking asshole.  If I cry? Seriously? I am not crying in front of either of these two, and I’m certainly not going to break down and cry on the phone with my mom.  It’ll only send her into a panic, and that’s the last thing she needs to be doing.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, my mom is strong, but I seriously doubt she was prepared for this.  I want her to keep herself composed, and manage the situation like I know she can.  “I’m not gonna cry,” I scoff.

“Oh you’ll cry,” he says with a little laugh.  “Crying always gets more money.  Don’t you watch network TV?”

“Yeah, because that’s so real.” I roll my eyes through the blindfold, and receive a swift kick to the stomach a moment later.  “Fuck.” I cough and collapse onto my side.  “What the hell?”

“Don’t be a smart ass,” he grunts after a moment.  

I try to listen out for the girl.  She’s nice, maybe she can give me some water.  But I don’t hear a sound coming out of her, which means she either left or she’s huddled in the corner of the room, scared to death of this guy and what he’ll do next.  The steel of the gun is back now though, and it makes me forget about the girl and my lack of water for the moment.  It’s pressed squarely in the center of my forehead, and I’ve never been more terrified.  

“I want to know how much you can get me, Justin.  If you can’t do that, let me know, and I’ll shoot you right now so I can find somebody else who can answer a simple. Fucking. Question.”

“What?” I say, coughing a little more.  My stomach is killing me now, and I wish like hell I could get up and bust out of these fucking handcuffs so I could kick this guys ass.   “I don’t fucking know man...I don’t know what you’re looking for.  Hell, just name the price, okay?”

“I think enough to cover what we owe is good enough, don’t you?”

It’s her again, and I’m sort of thankful.  She seems to be on my side, and I know...I know if I just get her alone with me again I might be able to convince her to help me.  I”m good at that...convincing.  It’s half the reason why my album came out the way it did, because I had a lot of input on it and didn’t let pushy executives tell me what to do.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up, Sam?  I distinctly remember saying that to you about five minutes ago.”

Sam.  Sam...maybe short for Samantha.  Yeah, that’s gotta be it, and I don’t know why he would have let that slip out.  Maybe its a code name or something, yeah.  It doesn’t matter, I’ll tuck it away for later anyway.  

“Sorry,” I hear her say quietly.

“Look,” I say a moment later, having formulated an idea in my head during the few moments they were bickering.  “Why don’t you just call my family and let me tell them that I’m okay.  I think they’ll be more willing to get you want you want if they know I’m not dead.”

“You’ll get to say your piece.  I’m not doing anything with phones here.  With my luck, they’ll trace the phone call back here and then we’ll all be fuckin dead.”

“They’re not going to give you anything unless they can talk to me,” I explain, trying to keep my voice calm. “Come on, that’s logical.”

“Who do you think you are?” he laughs.  “LIttle rich mother fucker, trying to tell me how to run my shit.  I know what I’m doing, so just fucking tell me how much money you think you’re worth, Justin.  I’ll take it from there.”

I know what I’m worth, but hell will freeze over before I tell him just how much.  I’d tell him a million, but I don’t think that he’s that naive, and I don’t want to get kicked in the gut again.  “Ten million,” I mutter, knowing that it’s a bulky number, but no where near the amount that I have stored away in my bank accounts.

“That’s a nice, round number.”  He snickers, his voice full of greed.  “How long do you think it will take for them to get it?”

“Hell if I know,” I grunt.  I’m tired of his fucking questions.  Let him hit me, at least that way I can pass out or whatever.  “It’s in the bank.  They’d have to withdraw and that’s a lot of money.  You do the math.”

“Must be great being so fuckin loaded,” he says to me bitterly.  I can feel him close to me now, his stinky breath hot in my face as the gun is pressed harder into my head.  “You want to live to spend your money again?”

“Of course,” I whisper.

“Then make sure you stop being a smart ass.”

This time I’m kicked in the face, and I cry out a little bit, as I feel the blood oozing down my forehead, tasting it as it enters my mouth.  “Shit,” I whimper.

“Stop it!” She yells, and a moment later, I feel her at my side, picking me back up and leaning me against the wall.

“What’s gotten into you, Sam?” I hear him say gruffly.  “Quit being so fucking sentimental.”

“He didn’t do anything to you.” She’s sobbing now, and I feel something soft wiping the blood off of my face.  “Just stop it, okay?”

“We need to have a chat.”  He says, and a moment later I feel her being yanked away from me, feeling horrible as she whimpers when I hear her body collide with what I’m pretty sure is the door.  

“Do you understand what I’m doing for us?”  He barks at her, as she continues to whimper.  “This is our ticket, Sam. This is our way out.”

“It’s too much,” she cries.  “I can’t do this.”r32;

“You have to do this, because if you don’t, I’m going to let him go and he’ll rat you out to the cops.  He saw your face, and so...you don’t have a choice, do you Sam?”

I lay on the floor again, the pain from my head and gut practically paralyzing me.  I can’t stop thinking about her.  I’m smart enough to realize that I have an advantage.  He’s stupid and she has a good heart.  I can use both of them to get out of here.  Her more so than him.  All I have to do is talk to her, convince her that helping me get out of here is better than staying here and rotting with him.  I have to do it, no matter how much pain I’m in and no matter what kind of fucked up things he says to me or my family.  Strength is key, and if I lose it...

I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere except into a shallow grave.

“I’m going to the store to get the stuff I rented,” he says after awhile.  “You get him cleaned up.  Make sure he behaves himself, and let him piss...if he can get up,” he chuckles.  “I’ll be back in an hour.”

I hear the door swing open and closed again, and I’m able to breath normally now, knowing that there shouldn’t be anymore guns pressed to my head until he returns.  “Hey,” I say when I don’t hear her making any noise.  “Hey can you take this thing off my eyes?”

“No,” she whimpers.  “I...I don’t want you to see my face again.”

I sigh heavily.  “It’s kind of late for that, you know?”

She’s quiet for awhile, probably taking in everything that just happened.  I’d try to console her.  I mean, she seems like a nice girl, but how fucked up would that be?  As much as I’ve been trying to convince myself otherwise, she’s one of my kidnappers.  I shouldn’t care how she feels or how scared she is.

 “I’m sorry he hit you,” she finally says.  “I asked him on the way here if he could control himself.  But...he’s not really good at that.”

“Obviously,” I mutter.

It takes a few minutes, but the blindfold is finally yanked down around my neck.  I squint for a minute, shielding my eyes with my chained hands, before I’m able to look at her again.  “Thanks.”

“I’m doomed,” she says quietly.

I look at her for awhile, and chuckle sadly.  “I hate to clue you in, girl, but I’m the one that’s chained to the wall.”

She shakes her head, her eyes becoming a little wider as she picks up the towel stained with my blood  and starts to wipe off my face again.  “You don’t know him,” she tells me.  “He really meant what he said about letting you go and having the cops find me.  God...”  She stops what she’s doing and reaches into her pocket,  producing a small baggie with a white powdery substance inside of it.

I’d be crazy if I said I didn’t know what it was.  I’ve tried coke a few times, as a party drug, but I’ve never done it as a weekly ritual or anything.  The high is okay, but I’ve had better just by getting drunk off my ass.  It’s apparent to me that she does this on the regular though.  She needs it, and it’s really sad.  The more I look at her, the more I think about what a pretty girl she is, and I wonder how she let herself get mixed up with such an asshole.  “It’s Sam, right?”

She pulls a small wooden box over to her that had been resting in the corner, and starts to break the coke up on its flat surface.  “You don’t have to rub it in my face,” she sighs.  “He did it on purpose.  He promised he wouldn’t say my name if I didn’t say his and he went back on his word,” she moans.  “What do I do now?  I don’t want to hurt you, but you know my name and what I look like.  If he tells me to kill you I have to do it.  I can’t...I can’t go to jail for the rest of my life.”

“I wouldn’t rat you out,” I tell her softly.

She starts to roll up a piece of paper she found on the floor, and scoffs a little.  “I can’t believe you,” she says quickly, as she finishes rolling the paper and starts to snort the lines she broke up for herself.

“Who are you to call me a liar?” I persist, trying to keep the strength in my voice despite the fact that I’m in so much pain right now.  “You don’t know me well enough to make that assumption.  Look, we have an hour.  If you’d just take these cuffs off me, I could go and we can forget this whole thing ever happened.”

“Oh come on,” she says, having finished her drugs.  “You’re a celebrity right?  Everybody is looking for you by now.  What would you tell them, that you got lost or something?”

I shrug my shoulders.  Really, I know I wouldn’t be able to bullshit about what happened to me. I disappeared at my best friends birthday celebration.  They’d never believe that I did it willingly.  Girl or no girl, Trace and Rachael know I would have said something, and I wouldn’t have left that club without some kind of security escort.  “I dunno.  I’d probably tell them the truth but I wouldn’t give you up,” I say, convincingly.  “I’d tell them I didn’t see anybodies face.”

“You know, you’re totally charming,” she says, as if a huge weight has just been lifted off her shoulders and I know the drugs have taken their affect on her now.  “I wish I could believe you, but I can’t.  So let me just help you up so you can pee before Charlie comes back.”

Charlie.  I try to maintain my composure over the new information she just handed over to me, but I can’t help the smirk that makes its way onto my face.

“Fuck, I didn’t just say that,” she says frantically.  “Oh shit...”

“Hey, calm down,” I tell her calmly.  “He said your name didn’t he?  It’s only fair.”

“No...you don’t get it!” She exclaims.  “He’ll kill me.”

I think about what just happened for a few moments, trying the best I can to drown out the pounding in my head.  Trust and strength are key, I know that.  She needs to be able to trust me.  “Look, you don’t have to worry. I’m not saying anything,” I tell her quickly.  “He’ll never know.”

“Why would you do that for me?”

I stare at her, not really being able to come up with a good answer.  I could tell her its just because I want her to trust me, but she might get it into her head that I’m using her, and I don’t want that.  “Because...” I begin with a sigh.  “It’s not going to get me out of here any faster, and, you know, you haven’t been all that terrible to me so far.”

She smiles a little bit, seemingly reassured by what I just told her.  That’s good.  Real good.  She’s starting to trust me just a little bit, and if I know anything from watching Dateline with Rachael, that’s the best thing you can do when you’re in a situation like this...stay calm and earn your captors trust.  When I see her again, I guess I’m going to have to tell her that she did the right thing by forcing me to watch that damn show all those nights with her.

I really hope I get to see her again.

“Here, give me your hands,” she says a moment later, producing a small key out of her front pocket.  

I hold them up, letting her separate my handcuffs from the long chain that attaches them to the wall.  Yeah, I can move a little more now, but I’m still not completely free, and when she does the same thing to the chains around my ankles, I frown.  It’s going to be hard getting away from her like this, but...I know myself.  I’m gutsy, you have to be in the business I’m in, and I know that I need to try and get away.  Sure, she has a gun, but she’s so fucking unstable I don’t even know if she’d be able to use it right now.  The cuffs on my ankles have a chain that allows enough movement for me to run a little, I just have to make sure I don’t trip and fall.  But I’m a dancer, have been all my life.  I’m limber, able to conquer some of the most advanced choreography out there.  I know I can do this.  I have to.

I have to get out of here.

“Come on.”  

She helps me to my feet and pushes me forward, not taking the gun out of her pants.  For the first time, I’m led through the doorway, and I hold my breath in anticipation, hoping that when I walk outside I’ll be able to tell where I am.  But my hope is quickly sucked away when the cool fall air hits my face.  It feels good, yeah, but that’s about the only thing that gives me any sort of a positive feeling.  There is absolutely nothing around at all.  I look back at the building they’ve been keeping me in, and find it’s nothing more than a run down, half trailer with boarded up windows.  I look in every direction, only seeing what seems like miles and miles of old, cracked, pavement, and a rusty looking chain link fence.  She’s having me walk towards a run down looking port o potty, and I don’t know what to do.  I mean, there must be some civilization around here.  They obviously came from some place, but I’m sure they have a car too.  I can’t give up though.  No, I need to try.

“Hey, come on and pee,” she tells me gently after she opens the port o potty door.  “I don’t know when you’ll be able to do it again.”

“Do you think you could uh...” I raise my arms up and motion to the cuffs on my wrists.  “It’ll be hard otherwise.”  I give her a charming little smirk, that usually helps me get out of predicaments in my regular life.

She eyes my handcuffs for awhile before looking back at me.  “I’m not supposed to.”

“Come on,” I say, trying to look uncomfortable so she’ll think I really have to pee.  “Nobody has to know.  You can trust me, Sam.”  I give her the most pathetic look I can manage, and it gets her to sigh after awhile.  I know I’ve won her over.

“All right,” she sighs.  “Just...go in first and I’ll do it.”

I nod and step backwards into the darkness of the toilet, holding my hands out and praying that she doesn’t change her mind.  Then she does it, she takes them off.  For a moment I stand there and stare at her, as she toys with them in her hands.  Is this really happening? Or am I still drugged inside that little hellhole, dreaming?  I don’t have time to decide though, because I don’t know how much time she’s going to give me out here, or if that Charlie guy is going to come back early.  

“Are you gonna go?” She asks impatiently.

“Yeah.”  I wait a moment more, pretending like I’m about to turn around, but then I lunge at her, and tackle her to the ground.  She screams a little bit, but not loud enough for anybody to really hear, and I roll off of her, managing to get to my feet quickly and I take off.  It’s hard to run. The damn chain keeps tripping me up, causing me to almost fall flat on my face, but I somehow manage to stay just ahead of her.  “Help me!” I call out, praying that some stray car will drive by and hear me.

“Get back here!” She screams

I feel her hand connect with my shoulder, and I quickly turn to push her down again.  She falls, and I run further along, being able to see the chain link fence part to an opening several hundred feet away.  I have to make it there.  I have to find the road.

Home...I want to go home.

A half step later I trip and fall on my face, just like I promised myself I wasn’t going to do.  The right side of my face collides with the pavement, and I can feel the skin being scraped raw.  I flinch in pain, but I don’t let it slow me down.  I get up again, and start to run, but then...

Then that coldness is there again, pressing into my back, and I stop dead in my tracks.

“You...you said...I... I could trust you,” she says to me, completely out of breath.

She presses the gun harder into my back, and I wince.  I’m stupid, so stupid.  How could I think I’d get away from her with this fucking chain? Even if I got to the fence opening, she’d catch up with me...or that asshole would. “All...All right,” I say slowly, raising my hands above my head so she’ll know she’s in control.  “Just, put the gun down.”

“No,” she whimpers.  “He left me in charge, and look what I let happen!”

I don’t say anything.  I feel so damn weak right now, not being able to get away from this tiny little girl. Seriously, she can’t weigh more than one twenty, if that, and here I am with my hands raised like she’s as big as Eric.  Pathetic.

“Don’t move.”  
 
I don’t feel the gun in my back anymore, but I know better than to try anything.  She’s out of her mind right now, high on cocaine, and I have no idea if she’s really capable of shooting me dead or not.  I feel her yank my arms behind me after a moment, and I flinch as the cold metal of the cuffs bites into my skin.  Then the gun is there again, and I’m shoved forward.  

‘I can’t believe you did that,” she says, shoving me down onto the mattress once we’re back inside the isolation of the trailer again.  “Look at your face.  You’re all bloody...god damn it.”

I look up at the ceiling as she reattaches all the chains to me like I’m a fucking animal.  “I didn’t get to pee,” I mutter, trying to prop myself up against the wall better since my hands are cuffed behind me now.

“Oh fucking well.”  She glares at me.

I can’t believe it.  The one chance I had to get away and I blew it.  I wonder why I couldn’t have just run a little faster, hit her a little harder so she’d have been knocked unconscious, yelled a little louder so somebody would have heard me.  I just didn’t try hard enough, almost like the time I debuted Like I Love You at the VMA’s and fucked up half the choreography.  I didn’t try hard enough then either, even though my mom told me that I was ‘amazing’.  

I can’t believe I’m comparing this to fucking Like I Love You.

“You can’t just do that,” she snaps at me once she finishes chaining my feet to the floor.  “You know, you act all gentle, like you’re just going to go along with everything, and then you do the exact opposite.”

“What the hell do you expect?” I grunt.  “I don’t wanna be in this fuck hole.”

She begins to pace the room nervously, and I know it’s mostly the drugs that are making her so jumpy right now. “And I do?  Look, I...I didn’t want to do this at all, but there was no other choice. I’m sorry, okay?  I’m trying to make your time here a little bit better but I can’t do anything for you if you’re going to try and get away every time you get the opportunity.”  She stops suddenly and turns to face me, her hands on her hips, expression stern.  “You can’t pull that in front of Charlie,” she whispers.  “He’ll flip out, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“He already hurt me. Didn’t you see him kick me in the face?” I grumble, looking down at my lap.  I can’t look at her anymore.  I find that I’m growing angrier and angrier the more I look into her eyes, because I’m so pissed at myself for succumbing to her and her gun.  “What more can he do?”

“Kill you.”

The stone coldness in her voice forces me to look up at her next, and I swallow hard.  She knows what Charlie is capable of, and I haven’t had the chance to get to know him well enough yet, but I know I should probably take her advice.  “He wants his money.  He can’t kill me yet.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispers.  “When he’s angry, he’s uncontrollable, okay?  He’d kill you, then gripe about how he shouldn’t have, only then it will be too late.  Just take my advice, Justin.  Okay?”

She says my name like she’s known me forever, almost reminding me of Rachael for a split second before I remember that she would kick my ass right now if she knew I was comparing her to this psycho.  No, Sam is nothing like Rachael.  Rachael would never do something this sick and twisted to me.  “I can’t promise you I won’t run again,” I tell her, honestly.  “I’m not the type of person to just sit on my ass and let people tell me what to do.  If I get an opportunity, I’m going to take it.”

“Then I’ll make sure you don’t get one,” she tells me, her gaze stern.  “I’ll tell him you tried to run, then he’ll never let me take you to the bathroom again.”

“Do whatever the fuck you want,” I snap at her, and look at the wall, hoping she’ll just go away.  I don’t understand her, not at all.  How the hell can she stand here and talk to me like she’s my friend?  She’s the one who helped get me here in this fucking place, and now she’s trying to help me?  It just doesn’t make any sense and I was stupid to think I could befriend her or trust her.  Sure, she hasn’t hit me, but she’s just as much of a criminal as Charlie is.  

“You don’t have to be so mean,” she tells me with a roll of her eyes.

“You got me chained to a fucking wall!” I yell.  “I haven’t eaten, I haven’t peed, and I haven’t talked to my family, who by the way, probably think I’m lying dead in a gutter some place.  Put yourself in my shoes, Sam.  Maybe you’ll be able to understand a little bit better that way.”

She crosses her arms and shakes her head as she backs up against the wall.  “Just calm down,” she grunts.  “Did you ever think that this is being done for your own good?  I mean, look at you...you’re rich and famous.  You don’t have to worry about what goes on in the real world.  Let it be a life lesson for you.”

I can’t even look at her right now.  Is she fucking serious?  Kidnapping me is going to teach me a life lesson?  That must be some really great coke she has, because that made absolutely no fucking sense whatsoever.  “That’s fucking stupid,” I grunt.  “I’m not this big cocky asshole, you know.  You don’t know me.”

She shrugs and sighs, as she kicks back from the wall and crouches down before me.  “I don’t have to know you.  I just know what you are and how you live, and I’d give anything to be in your shoes.”

I finally meet her gaze.  Her eyes are full of honesty, and I wish I could hate her...I do, but I just can’t do it.  I can see how genuine she is, and I’m tempted to ask her what her place is in all of this, how she allowed herself to fall to this level and live like a common junkie.  I don’t know what good it would do me though.  I have no reason to get to know her, or her backstory.  The only thing I really need to focus on is getting out of here, but as the hours tick by, I’m starting to lose myself in all of this.  I just don’t get that.  I should be panicking, trying to make my presence known or something, but I’m just sitting here instead after a pathetic attempt at escape.

Maybe I’m just fucking weak.  

“Are you going to tell him I ran,” I ask her after awhile.  

She’s still crouched in front of me, tracing a pattern  into the dirty floor with her finger.  For awhile she doesn’t look at me, but when she does, I finally realize how much she really doesn’t want to be doing this to me.  There’s so much sympathy in her eyes, and I know I need to find a way to use it for my own benefit.  “No,” she murmurs.  “I was just going to tell him you fell on your way to the bathroom, and that you struggled so I cuffed your hands behind you because I was afraid you’d be too strong for me.”

I give her a skeptical look.  “And he’s going to buy that?”

She just shrugs.  “He will if I do it right.”

I watch her get up, and she goes back to lean against the wall like she was before.  I’m tempted to make more small talk with her, but hell...I really don’t know why.  I shouldn’t be telling her about my personal life.  It’s the one thing I have left that hasn’t been taken complete control of yet, and I’d like to keep it that way.  No, I’ll just look at the floor, at least until our lovely Mr. Charlie comes back to grace us with his wonderful personality.

It’s quiet for a really long time.  I don’t look at her, and she doesn’t look at me.  I try to focus on the chain instead, looking for an imperfection, a loose screw or something, but I’m only fooling myself.  It frustrates me that I’m trapped like an animal, and I lean my head back against the wall again, begging for some kind of comfort to wash over me.  My arm muscles ache.  I think I have an itch on every part of my body that I can’t scratch.  For a moment I’m tempted to ask Sam to help me out, but I should know better.  I don’t want her fucking touching me, so I convince myself to shut up.

Then the car motor comes, clear as day, so close to this little box they’re keeping me in.  My heart fills with hope.  The police, yes, they found me because Trace saw Same and Charlie take me away and wrote down the license plate.  I’m saved.  I’ll be with momma and Rachael and...r32;

“Don’t say anything.”

The blindfold is yanked back up over my eyes again, and tightened.  It’s not the police.  I’m not going to see Momma or anybody else besides Sam and Charlie for a really long time.  “Please don’t do this,” I whimper, hating that I’ve become so hopeless in a matter of seconds.  

“I have to,” she whispers.

The door is banged open again, and shuts just as quickly.

“Well?”

I hear a bunch of stuff being dropped to the ground, and I jump a little bit.

“Well, what?” Sam’s voice comes softly after a few moments.

“Something must have happened,” I hear Charlie laugh a moment later.  “His face is all scratched.”

“He just...fell, and it was hard for me to control him so I cuffed his hands behind him,” she tells him gently.  “Did you have a problem at the store?”

I hold my breath, praying to god that he won’t ask anymore questions.  For the first time I realize that Sam is right about Charlie killing me.  I don’t know him, but I do know that he’s violent, and out of control.  If she tells him I ran, I know I’m done for.  I was stupid to run.  So stupid.

“No.” His voice comes after a few very long moments.  “No trouble.”

Just as I think I’m in the clear, that he’ll probably call my family next and I’ll have a little bit more sense of security than I do now, I feel the coldness of the gun pressing into the underside of my chin.  It causes my head to point straight up, and I swallow really hard.  

“So you were behaved for the most part,” he snickers.  “That’s real good, Justin.”

“Yeah,” I croak.

“I’m going to record you,” he tells me, almost playfully.  “And I want you to say...you know, whatever you think is best.”

I don’t get it.  “What?”

I’m shoved hard into the wall.  “You’re going to tell them that I want my ten million dollars, or they’re going to find your body parts strewn all over Los Angeles.  Do you get it now?”

Fucking psycho.  “Yes,” I say, through gritted teeth.  

“Great,” he snickers.  “Baby, get that set up over there.”

So she is his girlfriend.

I hear a lot of clicking, metal being snapped together, and things being placed harshly onto the ground.  Charlie the asshole doesn’t take his gun away, and I’ve never been more uncomfortable in my life.  It seems like hours he keeps me in this position, and I don’t get it.  I’m not going anywhere, so the only natural solution I can think of is that he’s actually enjoying scaring the shit out of me.  That makes me want to kick his ass really good.

I wish I could.

“All right.  Done.”  I hear Sam say, finally.  “It’s recording.”

The gun is finally removed from under my chin, and I’m allowed about five seconds to catch my breath, before I feel it being pressed into the side of my head again.  “Now what?” I mutter.

“Start talking.” Charlie’s voice comes gruffly.  

I don’t even know where to begin.  It’s obvious to me that this is a tape my family and friends are going to see.  That’s just fucking great.  What better way to reassure them that I’m not going to die here, than to make of tape of me with a gun shoved into my head?  Fuck, I don’t want them to see me like this either...weak, chained, and blindfolded, but there’s nothing I can do.  This is the way he wants to do things, obviously, and he’s actually kind of smart for coming up with it.  I’m sure they can’t trace the tape back to this hellhole, and that makes it harder for Charlie to get caught.  Great.  Now I’ll be stuck here forever.

“Talk!” He yells.

I don’t even know how to begin, but I don’t want to ask questions.  If I do, I’ll probably get kicked in the gut or punched the face, and since I’m still in pain from the blows I was dealt earlier, I’ll be creative.  I’m good at that, being creative.  It’s why I have so much money.

It’s also why I’m stuck here.

“Mom,” I manage to say, glad that I’m blindfolded so I don’t have to see Sam’s expression right now.  “Mom, I’m alive.  You have to get ten million dollars together, or I guess they’re going to kill me.”

I’m punched in the face.

“Cut the tape!” I hear his voice boom a moment later.

I’m on my side again, taking slow, even breaths, hoping that it will somehow numb the throbbing portion of my face.  “What did I do?” I ask after awhile.  

“You don’t say “they”,” he sneers, his breath hot in my face again, the gun being pressed even harder into my head this time.  “You think I don’t know your tricks, asshole? You want me to get caught, you want them to know that there is more than one of us.  Real nice.  See that Sam?  He’s trying to fuck us both, and you want to be nice to him.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to.”r32;

“You know, you’re both fucking useless,” he snaps, completely frustrated.  “I have to do everything myself don’t I?  Might as well just kill him now and pretend he’s still alive.  His family is probably dumb enough to buy it.”

I don’t answer him, and Sam doesn’t say another word.  I’m paralyzed with fear now, wondering if he’s going to give up and shoot me dead right here.  God, I’m not fucking ready.  I haven’t been given my fair chance to fight.  I can’t just die here, chained up like this, defenseless.  That would just be entirely too fucked up, and I’m a good person...yeah.  I might be cocky at times, but I’ve never done anything so horrible to deserve to die like this.  “Just let me try again,” I hear myself say after awhile, not knowing how I managed to get the guts up to do it.  “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Damn right you weren’t thinking.”

“Listen Justin.”

It’s Sam now.  So weird, she’s never been one to speak up in front of him, but then again, I haven’t been here all that long.  I mean, it’s obvious that she’s his girlfriend, so there must be a reason he keeps her around.  Maybe she’s gutsier than I think.  Granted, he’s a bastard and treats her like shit, but she’s not all sunshine and daisy’s herself.  “Huh?”

“Just tell them that you’ve been kidnapped, you need ten million dollars in three days to get out of it, or you’ll be dead.  It’s that simple.  Don’t try to pull any names out, or say how many of us there are okay?  Otherwise you’ll be in a lot more pain than you are now.”

I tremble a little because I never thought I’d hear the girl talk like that.  I have to remember that she’s a criminal.  I have to.  Sure, she can be nice but right now she’s getting down to business, and it’s obvious she wants this money just as badly as Charlie does.  “All right,” I croak.

“See?” she says brightly.  “He gets it.  Now can we get this done?  I’m fucking starving.”

Food.  Now that I think about it, I realize that I’m fucking starving too.  Too bad they don’t care.  Too bad they’re probably going to leave me here to starve all night once this video thing is taken care of.  I feel the firm pressing of the gun to my head a moment later, making me forget all about how hungry I am.  The gruff sound of “talk” is barked at me again, and I know it’s my last chance to say what I’m supposed to before Charlie gets pissed off and shoots me after all.

“Mom,” I begin again, sucking in a breath.  I can picture her on the sofa, Paul, Trace, and Rachael at her side as they watch this horrific shit on my big screen TV.  It makes me want to cry, and I know that’s what he wants.  I can’t let myself do it.  I can’t.  “Mom,” I sob out.

Fucking damn it.

“I’ve been kidnapped, but when you get this I’ll still be alive,” I say a moment later, trying to get my composure together.  “You have to get ten million dollars together in three days, otherwise I’ll be killed.  Please just do it,” I whimper, hanging my head low.  “I want to come home.”

“Damn Justin.” I hear Charlie’s evil laugh come a few moments later.  “That was some kind of Barbara Walter’s shit right there.  See? Crying does make the difference, and I’m willing to bet that somehow, this video will make it onto the evening news.  Hell, maybe you’ll win another award, for best pussy in a dramatic role.”

He rubs my head like I’m five years old, and I fucking hate it.  I hate him, I hate his fucking junky girlfriend.  I hate how much pain I’m in, and I hate that I can’t fucking move.  “Fuck you,” I snap.  

This time he just laughs at me.  He laughs at how pathetic I am.  “Man, that was too much fun for one day.  You know what, Sam? I’m gonna take you to dinner tonight too.  There’s that new steak joint up on the other side of town.  It’ll be great.  Meat and potatoes, and all the drinks you want for ten bucks a person.”

My mouth starts to water a little, and I know he’s doing it on purpose.  I don’t say anything though.  I know it will only cause him to laugh harder, or hit me again.

“He hasn’t eaten,” Sam speaks up after awhile.  “We should get him something, don’t you think?”

“Fuck, girl.  I ain’t payin’ for his ass to eat.”

“God, you know, you’re impossible.”  I hear something being picked up off the ground, most likely the camera equipment.  “Just take this stuff to the car okay? I’ll meet you out there in a minute.”

“Hey I’m just saying, he hasn’t done anything for us, so why should we feed him too?” Charlie’s voice comes a moment later, full of enthusiasm.  It’s apparent that all of this has put him in a great mood, most likely because he thinks his plan is working.

I hope it backfires in his fucking face, even if I have to die because of it.

“We’ll talk in the car,” Sam reminds him with a small laugh.

“Drug him before you leave,” Charlie tells her after a moment.  “We ain’t coming back and I don’t need him screaming into the night.”

“Baby, come on,” she groans.  “That’s not necessary.”

“You don’t tell me what’s necessary.” His voice is dark again, the enthusiasm gone from his voice.  “Do it, Sam.”

I groan at the prospect of the drugs taking their effect on me again.  I don’t want to feel that way, paralyzed, confused.  It makes no sense.  I can’t get out of here anyway, and nobody can hear me.  Torture is the only reason he wants to do it, and I fucking hate him.  The first chance I get, his ass is mine.

“Fine,” Sam says quietly.  “I’ll meet you in the car.”

I hear his footsteps, and I’m almost positive that he’s leaving, but then I feel the gun to my head again, and I groan in despair.  “You better not give her any trouble, either,” he warns me.  “If I hear a bad report, I’m not going to be happy, and you don’t want me to have to come back in here.”

Behind the blindfold I’m giving him the look of death, but since he can’t see it, I know there’s no sense in doing it for long.  “Fine,” I tell him angrily.

The gun is gone, and then I hear the door open and close.  He’s gone, and all I can do is scrunch my knees up as far as they will go into my chest and lean against the wall.  Fuck it all, I think to myself.  Nothing matters anymore.  I’ve just been fucking humiliated on video and it’s going to scare the crap out of my family.  Shit, they’re going to get put through all of this, and I don’t even know if I’ll be alive in the end.  I feel myself shudder, then sob, then start to cry like a fucking baby.  I hate myself for it, but at least Charlie isn’t here to see it.

“Justin.”

I feel the warmness of her hand to my face, gently pulling the blindfold down around my neck again.  I squint, feeling several tears glide down my face as I do so.  “Just leave me alone,”I tell her.  

“Come on, you have to be stronger than that.” Her hand rubs my shoulder gently.  “I’m...I”m sorry you had to do that..”

“You’re sorry!” I yell at her.  “I had to fucking...humiliate myself on tape for my family to see.  They’re going to shit themselves when they get it, and you’re sorry? Fuck, Sam...just leave me the hell alone okay?  Don’t touch me.  Go fuck your psycho boyfriend and snort some more lines of coke.”

It’s quiet for a few minutes, and I simply look at the wall and wait for her to force the drugs down my throat so she’ll leave.  Charlie is waiting for her, and I know she probably only has about ten minutes.  Now that I think about it, being forced to pass out right now will be good for me.  I won’t have to sit here and dwell on anything.  Maybe I’ll even have a couple of nice dreams about being at home with my dogs...

Hopefully Shelly will stay out of them.

I wonder if she knows this has happened.

If she has, I have no idea how she’s reacting. If she’s with my family or simply ignoring the situation like she did to our relationship during the last two or three months we were together.  I’ve hated her for so long now, that thinking about her sitting there with my mother, comforting her, is so alien like to me.  I bet Trace would call her on it, tell her how shitty she was to me and that she shouldn’t be there.  I hope he does.  I hope he makes her feel as out of place as she made me.

“I’ll bring you some food later, after Charlie goes to sleep,” she whispers to me a few moments later.  “Maybe we can talk a little bit.  It’ll keep you sane, you know?”

“I’m not talking to you,” I mutter.  “Fucking psycho kidnapper that you are.”

She laughs bitterly.  “You know, that’s fine.  If that’s how you want to be, I’ll just drug you like he said, and ignore you.  It’s obvious that you don’t want my help.”