I feel like complete shit.
I should though. I mean, keeping someone chained up in a hell hole is wrong. Unlike Charlie, I grew up with morals, and I was never violent or anything. My parents were good, kind people, who never would have hurt a soul. So how did this happen? How the hell did I find it okay to pour drugs down that poor guys throat and tell him everything was going to be just fine? Two days ago I was just a pathetic drug addict, and today I’m a fucking kidnapper. I don’t know how I let everything fall apart so fast, or why I hadn’t been able to talk Charlie out of this idea.
Maybe I didn’t think he’d be able to pull it off.
But with my help, he did it with flying colors.
I don’t know why, but I feel like I’m more responsible for this than he’ll ever be. Granted, Charlie isn’t stupid, but he isn’t as smart as I am either. If it wasn’t for the fact that I was able to quickly lure Justin out to the dance floor and whisk him through the door unnoticed, he wouldn’t be chained up in that shack right now. I feel more guilty than anybody will ever know, and I guess it’s why I’m trying to be so nice and get him what he needs so he’ll be more comfortable. I didn’t count on him being as stubborn or outspoken as he is, and sadly, he’s only gotten beat up because of his mouth. I begged Charlie on the way over there to control his temper and leave Justin alone, and he assure me that he would, that I needed to calm down and just shut up about it because he was “professional” and could “handle his temper”. But he completely contradicted himself in there. The first snide comment Justin made, caused Charlie to kick him in the gut. It put the fear of God in me. I knew that Charlie was perfectly capable of kicking the crap out of him, giving him brain damage or something, and we couldn’t afford to have that happen. As much as I hate this whole thing, I know that Justin is our only hope to getting the money we need to pay Adrian off. It’s too late to let him go and think of something else right now, and I wish Charlie would consider that for a minute and grow up a little bit.
This tape has to work. His family has to come through for us, and I really hope that Charlie knows what he’s doing, designating me to be the one that calls them for the ransom money. I was shocked that he even suggested it, because he’s usually the one that’s firm about taking charge and leaving me to clean up his messes. He seems to think that I have more patience for it. That I’ll be able to be “rational” and he even admitted that he’d probably lose his temper rapidly if people started asking him questions about whether or not Justin was still alive, or if they could speak with him. It’s great and all that he finally has some faith in me, but fuck, I don’t know how I’m going to react when I speak to whoever Charlie is going to have me call. I mean, how do you call somebody and say that you’re going to kill their loved one unless they give you money?
I have no idea if I can go through with it.
But Charlie has made it pretty damn clear that I better if I don’t want him to lose his temper on me, and since I was there to witness the damage he did to Justin today, I know what he’s capable of. Once, years ago, he flipped out on me because he saw me talking to some guy at a bus station. He grabbed me by the hair and dragged me back to his car, giving me the beating of a lifetime once we got home. I had black and blue welts on my face, arms, and legs for weeks, and I vowed to never piss him off again. Sure, he still slaps me around sometimes, but never as bad as he did that particular time. Of course, he didn’t mean to do what he did then, either. He just....lost his temper, and I shouldn’t have been talking to that guy anyway.
No matter, I learned my lesson.
“You gonna eat?” He asks me, his mouth full of mashed potatoes. “It’s all you can eat, girl. You’re still on your first plate.”
I can barely stomach meat and potatoes right now. The entire time we’ve been sitting here, I’ve simply been pushing my food around with my fork as Charlie has stuffed his face, praying he wouldn’t notice. Of course he would though. We haven’t been out to eat in ages, and I know the only reason he had twenty bucks to spare was because we emptied our bank account to change our hair and buy new clothes. This is simply the little money we have left from it all. “I’m really not that hungry,” I tell him softly.
“Eat.” He glares at me. “Crazy girl, I dunno when we’re going to be able to have a real meal again. Things are going to get hectic in the next couple of days. There won’t be time for breaks like this.”
I nod. He really is right, and I look down at my plate, telling myself that I need to eat the food. I guess its that guilt inside of me that’s preventing me from doing it. It’s been almost two days since we took Justin from that club, and he hasn’t had anything in his system besides Rohypnol and water. He must be starving, and here I am at an all you can eat buffet. I promised him I’d bring him something to eat too, although he didn’t seem to care. But why would he? After the shit Charlie put him through, I don’t blame him for wanting nothing to do with me. I’m his kidnapper, plain and simple, and he shouldn’t want anything to do with me.
But why then, do I feel the need to have something more to do with him?
Maybe it’s because of the way he first looked at me when we met. The way he smiled, and the way his eyes lit up as he looked me over. He respected me. I’d never been respected by a guy before in my entire life. I never had the chance to...because Charlie was the first boyfriend I ever had, and his definition of “respect” was being able to make me cum good and hard before he passed out next to me in the bed. Granted, I know deep down Charlie really does love me, he’s just too fucked up to show his emotions properly.
I remember how Justin touched my face, caressing it gently with his fingers as he smiled down at me, like I was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. It caught me off guard for a few moments. All I could seem to do was smile at him like some stupid little girl. I even forgot why I was there for a second, and when I remembered I desperately wished my life was different...that I was simply an innocent party goer who had lost her date. I would have gladly dropped the whole thing, taken his arm and joined him back at the table with his friends. But then Charlie would have noticed, and I really don’t want to think about what would have happened next.
I shove a forkful of mashed potatoes into my mouth, because Charlie has his gaze fixed on me intently, waiting for me to do as he’s asked. He smiles when I do it, and I know I’m off the hook as far as his temper goes. “So, I dropped the tape in his mailbox this afternoon while you were asleep. There were cars in the driveway, so I’m figuring people are looking for him right now,” he tells me, digging into his pocket and fishing out a piece of paper. “This is the number I got off his cellphone,” he says, as he hands the paper to me. “It said “home”, so I’m assuming it’s the house number.”
I nod a little, as I scan the numbers with my eyes. Honestly, I’d rather ask Justin who he’d like me to call, but I’m almost positive the the conversation wouldn’t go over well. He told me that he hates me, but then again, he was delirious because of the drugs. I’m planning on sneaking out, and bringing him some McDonalds tonight after Charlie has drank himself to sleep. Maybe I can talk to him about this, let him decide the best person for me to deal with. I don’t want to talk to somebody who is going to panic, or not listen to a word I’m saying. It’s important I deal with somebody as logical as myself, and right now I have no idea who that could be. “I’ll call in the morning,” I tell him softly.
“Early,” he tells me. “Don’t let them have time to analyze the video anymore than they have to.”
“All right.” I don’t look at him. I can’t.
“Sam.”
“Yeah?”
“Come on, look at me would you? This ain’t so bad, you know. We did a good job today, and I think everything is going to be fine. Adrian will get his money, and then we’ll be able to take the rest and build a nice life for ourselves.”
I’d like to believe him. I really would. But something deep inside of me is telling me that he’s wrong. That things aren’t going to work, that they’re only going to get much, much worse for us all. It makes me want to go to the shack and unlock Justin...set him free.
But naturally, Charlie has prevented me from doing that too.
He told me that I didn’t need a mask this morning when we came to check on Justin. I didn’t get it. He wasn’t blindfolded, and he would see my face. I told Charlie that too, but he said it didn’t matter. That I didn’t need to worry because as long as Justin didn’t know who he was, neither of us could be convicted. Stupid me, I went along with it, and I have no idea why I did. Maybe it’s because I’m vulnerable to everything Charlie tells me. Or...maybe it’s because he gave me that nice fat bag of coke to shut me up.
Yeah, that was probably it.
So he knows what I look like. So I can’t let him go. So he tried to escape and I stopped him...even though he’ll probably do it again if he has the opportunity. It really sucks, because I’d like to take him to the bathroom like a human being so he won’t have to piss all over himself, but I can’t trust him. Of course, I wouldn’t take his cuffs off like I did today but still...he’s strong. When he knocked me down, I could feel his muscles rippling underneath his shirt, and I knew that one swift punch to my face would have been all it took to knock me out. But he didn’t do it. He just ran away like a fool with his feet chained together, thinking he’d be able to get away.
I feel terrible that he didn’t succeed, and even worse that I had to drag him back into that horrible place afterwards. Failure isn’t something that’s taken well by humans. It makes us feel weak, senseless, and defenseless.
Fuck, this whole thing is so wrong.
I gotta do something for him, somehow.
I have to make this right.
r32;“Samantha.”r32;
I snap out of it and look up at him. “Sorry,” I whisper.
“You gotta snap out of this whole sympathy bullshit,” he snaps angrily as he points his fork at me. “It’s written all over your face, and it’s not helping anything. I mean, I have to see Adrian tomorrow as it is. He wants a follow up on the money situation, and I’m going to have to tell him what we’re doing.”
This isn’t good. If Adrian knows we’re holding a high profile celebrity hostage, I don’t know how he’ll take it, but I do know he’ll find a way to benefit even more from the kind of money Justin is able to bring in for us. Adrian is an evil, nasty, selfish son of a bitch who’s only out for himself, and I...I’m afraid for Justin. I’m afraid that Adrian will do something unspeakable, and that he’ll never be able to see his family again. “Charlie you can’t tell Adrian,” I blurt out. “You just can’t.”
He crosses his arms. “What the fuck do you want me to do, Samantha?” He crosses his arms and glares at me. “If I go there and tell him I dont’ have a plan in the works to get his money back, he’ll kick my ass. I can’t have that right now, Sam. Neither of us can. We both need to be in good standing for this whole thing to work, and...maybe Adrian can help us get the money faster, you know?”
“Or he’ll just take Justin and use him for his own devices,” I point out. “Come on, Charlie. Justin is worth millions more than we’re asking for. Don’t you think if Adrian knows that, he’s going to want to get more money out of him?”
Charlie shrugs. “So what if he does? At least he’ll be happy that I had the balls to do this. It’s not like the family won’t pay either, so let Adrian do what he wants with Justin. I don’t care what happens to him, and you shouldn’t either. Hell, I’d let Adrian take him off our hands if it meant he’d let our debt off the hook.”
I put my hands to my temples and begin to rub them in a circular motion. “Are you hearing yourself?” I grunt. “Justin isn’t a thing, he’s a person. He has a life, and we’re responsible for what happens to him. Adrian will kill him when he’s through with him, can’t you see that?”
“Who said we weren’t going to kill him in the end, anyway?” He questions me, like I’m stupid.
I just stare at him.
“Do you want to fuck him or something?” Charlie glares at me coldly.
“What?” I laugh. “Baby, come on, that’s not what I’m saying.”
“Sure sounds like it. You know, you’ve been acting funny ever since we snatched him from the club. What happened when you guys were alone?”
I swallow hard. I know I can’t tell him how I really feel, that when I looked into Justin’s eyes I saw and felt something that I never had before in my life. “We just danced,” I say softly. “I told you that.”
“Yeah but you must have known he was attracted to you,” he says, with a sarcastic smirk. “You got all riled when he touched you, didn’t ya Sam?”
“No.” I shake my head roughly. “I was just trying to get him out of there and into the van. I had to play the part.”
“Then why do you give a shit if he’s uncomfortable or not?”
He slams his fist on the table and it causes me to flinch. “Charlie...”
“Answer the fucking question,” he grunts, an angry look in his eyes.
“I just...feel bad,” I sigh. “He just doesn’t seem like the type of person that deserves this, that’s all.”
“You don’t know anything about him,” Charlie says darkly. “So you better cut the crap before I kick your ass, girl.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, having to tear my gaze away from him because he looks so fucking angry right now.
“You better be,” he warns me.
We finish dinner in silence. I don’t meet Charlie’s gaze again for the duration, but I can feel him staring at me from time to time, probably searching me for a sign that I’m lying to him, that I really do have a thing for Justin, and I’m trying to weasel my way around it. But he’s wrong. I mean, I can’t have real, genuine feelings for the guy. I don’t know him, and hell...look what I’m doing to him. If I cared about him that much, I would have just let him run, get away.
Fuck, maybe I only stopped him because I was afraid of losing my own life, not because I didn’t care about him. The more I want to deny that, the more I find that I can’t. Charlie would have killed me, and I know if he was a different person, a gentle person, I would have let Justin go after all. I’m so fucking weak, and it’s really pathetic.
“Let’s go.”
Charlie has cleared his plate and is standing over me now, holding his hand out for me to take. I’ve barely gotten halfway through my meal, but I don’t really care. I’d rather go back home, so Charlie will fall asleep that much faster. I smile a little and take his hand, and I’m literally dragged out of the restaurant a moment later. He’s angry. It’s clear to me that he still hasn’t gotten over his frustrations about how “I want to fuck Justin’.
I’m fucking afraid.
He slaps me across the face once we’re back inside the van, and I look down at my lap like a fool. “Charlie....”
“Just shut up,” he barks. “You need to learn, Sam, and fuck, sometimes I feel like this is the only way I can get through to you.”
I don’t say anything, and I pray that he’ll just start up the van and leave me alone. But he doesn’t. I still feel him staring at me, and he’s breathing heavily. It forces me to look up at him again. “Look, I’m just flustered,” I tell him. “I love you, Charlie. You know that.”
“Flustered.” He looks down for a moment, and lets out a bitter laugh. “That’s what you’re gonna call it, huh?”
“Baby...”
He cuts me off, shoves me up against the car door and puts his hands gently around my neck, squeezing it just slightly to see the fear come into my eyes. “Don’t screw with me,” he seethes. “I’ve told you before that I’ll fucking kill you.”
“O-okay,” I whimper. “Baby, please. Please don’t do this now.”
He lets go of my neck, but punches me in the face seconds later, harder than he has in a really long time. It takes a few minutes, but I can feel my eye swelling up like a balloon. I do the best I can not to cry, but I can’t help but sob a little bit as I put my hand over my right eye. I remember the first time this happened. I was still living with my parents then, just barely, and I walked in the door one night, drunk as fuck, with a big black eye. My father had known right away what happened, and told me that I had to get some help for myself. I was too fucked up to care then, told him to mind his own business and that I loved Charlie.
Then he told me I had to get out.
“Samantha.”
I close my eyes and he caresses my face with his fingers, a ritual for him when he does something stupid like this to me.
“Baby, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I croak out. “Let’s just go home, okay?”
He rubs my knee. “All right.”
***************
I’m lying in bed, wrapped in Charlie’s arms, naked from head to toe. He’s snoring loudly, out cold. He got drunk hours ago. That giddy, happy sort of drunk that I can tolerate. He raised his beer cans in the air as he watched the TV, shouting about how we were going to be rich, and how he was going to buy me the world. I tried to pretend I was excited, but inside all I felt was complete remorse for what we’re doing, and intense fear about what happened in the van earlier. He dragged me into the bedroom shortly after, had sex with me a few times before he completely wore himself out, and fell asleep beside me. I’m glad. It’s really late, and I’m sure he won’t wake up until at least eleven in the morning. It’s good, means I can sneak out and do what I want to.
I slowly, quietly slide out of his embrace and off the bed, grabbing the now melted ice pack off the nightstand, and shuffle into our makeshift kitchen, refilling it with ice so I can put it over my eye. It still hurts like hell. I can’t open it all the way, and I wonder what I’m supposed to do when I see Justin. He’ll probably ask questions, but fuck, it’s none of his business. I just won’t explain, tell him to shut up and eat his food instead.
It’s pathetic that I’m so hopeful he’ll care enough to ask me what happened. I don’t doubt that he’ll feel good about it, since the same thing happened to him just hours ago. I slip into fresh clothes silently, praying to god that Charlie won’t snap out of his drunken slumber and see that I’m trying to head out. I don’t know for sure of course, but I don’t doubt that he’d try to kill me once he found out I was going to see Justin tonight. He’s so paranoid now, so afraid that I have feelings for him. I don’t blame him. Justin isn’t a bad looking guy, and he’s rich. What girl in my situation wouldn’t want to seduce him?
Fuck, I’m losing it.
Once I’m dressed, I know the next task at hand is to obtain the keys to the van. The problem? They’re resting on Charlie’s nightstand, close enough that if I make one wrong move he’ll be sure to wake up. It seems to take me years to slink back into the bedroom and over to his side of the bed. He snores, tosses a little bit, but doesn’t wake when I step on a squeaky floorboard, and I ‘m able to breathe again. I stand several feet away from the bed as I lean over and reach for the keys, silently slipping my index finger through the key ring hole, holding a silent celebration for myself once I obtain the item without any repercussions. I head back to the kitchen next, grabbing an old shopping bag and filling it with more bottled water, and a few magazines. I start to think about the fact that Justin has probably peed in his pants by now, and I almost want to bring him a fresh pair of boxers and jeans, but it’s too risky. Charlie doesn’t have many articles of clothing, and I know he would notice something was missing. I do the next best thing and grab some paper towels and wet naps out of a cabinet. I feel like an idiot, like I’m his mother or something....but I can’t help myself. I feel extreme guilt inside of me, and doing something for him like this is making it easier to cope with.
I slip out of the motel room silently, closing the door behind me with only an ounce of a click, and I know I’m in the clear. The night air is cool, and calming as it hits my face. I start to wonder if Justin is cold, if he’s scared at all. I hope the light didn’t go out on him. It’ll be pitch black in that place otherwise.
I proceed to the van cautiously, making sure nobody is following me before I get inside of it. I start it up, hoping that the sound doesn’t cause Charlie to wake up at all, but I doubt it would. When he drinks like this it usually knocks him out so cold, that I could probably drop a ten ton elephant inside the room and he would be none the wiser. I smile a little as I pull off the motel’s property, feeling a sense of accomplishment for the first time since this whole thing started. I’m finally doing my part, helping him out.
Although, I have no idea if he’ll appreciate it.
I go through a McDonald’s drive thru, ordering four double cheeseburgers and a giant sized fry for Justin. It’s takes the last of the pocket money Charlie gave to me, but I don’t care. It makes me feel better, and that’s what money is for anyway right? For enjoyment? Christ, I’ll conjure up any excuse to make myself feel better these days. As I drive, I pass a patrol car stationed in front of an all night diner, and I slow my speed down to nearly twenty miles an hour. Fuck, the last thing I need is to get stopped. I’d give Charlie and I up in a minute, lead them right to Justin because I have too much of a conscience. I start to sweat, just waiting for the sirens to go off, signaling me to pull over, that I’ve been caught red handed with a kidnap victim.
But then nothing happens.
I really need to stop being so paranoid about this. I’m smart, and Charlie is tough. The two of us combined are making this whole thing a success and I should just stop and take it all in. I mean, say this does all work out like Charlie says. We’ll be millionaires, I can finally stop doing coke, and get help. Adrian will be forever out of our lives. Only good things can come out of this for us, because I know I’m not about to let Justin get out of our grasp again. I’m too smart for his fake smiles, and sympathetic pleas for decency. I’m tough, yeah. I’m tough and I can handle him and get our millions when I call his family in the morning.
Ten minutes later I pull the car into the abandoned lot,immediately realizing what a scary place it is at night. A single street lamp flickers on an off from above, barely casting a light on the lone shack shoved into the corner of the chain link fencing. If I was simply passing by, I wouldn’t even know it was there, and that’s a really sad thought for Justin. There’s no chance of him being discovered here accidentally. Nobody comes here during the day, and at night it’s like the thing doesn’t even exist. I know that’s why Charlie picked this place, and if I hadn’t been with him this long I’d call him an evil, heartless bastard.
But I love him.
I shine the headlights on the shack when I get close enough, making a mental note of where the door lock is before I plunge it into darkness again. I grab the food, and the bag of water and magazines I brought, along with my purse, before getting out of the van. I shut the door quietly, not wanting to freak him out in the middle of the night. I know the effects of the Rohypnol have worn off by now. That means if he’s sleeping, it’s completely voluntary, and I don’t want to give him a heart attack. I hold the McDonald’s bag with my teeth as I feel around for the lock with the key, sighing with relief when it goes into the keyhole, and I push the door open. The light is on, and I let a thankful smirk make its way onto my face as I put the bags down on the floor.
Justin is curled up as much as he can be on the mattress, facing the wall. I can seem him trembling from the doorway, and I know that it’s not because he’s cold. “It’s okay, it’s only me,” I reassure him.
He doesn’t answer.
I pull the door closed and lock it behind me, before making my way over to him. “Hey, I brought you something to eat, “ I say softly, trying to keep the brightness in my voice. “I told you I would.”
“Leave,” he rasps, his voice weak.
I sigh, and sit down on the very end of the mattress, the part that his body isn’t touching. “You have to eat,” I say, pulling the McDonald’s bag over to me and fishing out one of the burgers. “Come on, it’s not poison. I went to American’s finest drive thru for you.”
“What’s with you making jokes all the time,” he mutters after a few more minutes of dreadful silence.
He finally turns himself over now, revealing his tear stained face to me. It’s obvious that he’s been crying for a little while, and it makes my heart sink. The bruises Charlie gave him earlier in the day have taken their true form now. He has a huge welt on his forehead, and a few black and blues on either side of his face. I feel horrible, and I wish I’d brought him some ice to sooth what I’m sure is pretty nasty pain. “I don’t know,” I say, sliding over to him a little more, pulling him into an upright position since he can’t really do it himself. I hold the burger to his mouth and smile at him. “I guess I just like to keep things casual.”
“Right,” he scoffs, sneering at the burger in his face. “I don’t eat that shit either. It makes me feel sick.”
I should have figured. A person of his stature is probably hell bent on eating all that organic crap in order to maintain his “image”. I smile and sigh, shaking my head. “Guess I should have figured that,” I tell him, sitting back a little and taking a bite out of the burger instead.
He watches me eat with longing in his eyes, and part of me wonders if he’s refusing the food simply because he wants to be stubborn, wants to let me know how hard this is on him. I decide to try and beat him at his own game. “Mmm.” I close my eyes and sway my head happily from side to side, before opening them again. “So good. You know, Justin, it’s been awhile since I’ve pigged out.”
He leans back against the wall stubbornly, sending me a cold glare. “Did you call my family?”
I stare at him for a minute, contemplating whether or not I should tell him the plan for tomorrow. Maybe if I do, he’ll be more willing to eat the “shit” that I brought for him. “Not yet. Tomorrow. Charlie dropped the tape off today.”
He sucks in a breath, and nods a little. “Am I going to get to talk to them?”
His tone is desperate now, and I’m sure he didn’t mean for it to sound that way. He’s trying to be so strong through this whole thing, and I commend him. I’m sure any other spoiled fucking celebrity would be throwing a constant shit fit in front of me...but not him. Something tells me that he comes from a good family. An honest one. He doesn’t even care what he’s being put through right now, the only thing he cares about is how his family is taking it all. “I...” I begin, wanting to tell him that I’m not sure. But who am I kidding? I’m making the ransom call, why can’t I let him reassure his family that he’s not dead too? “I’ll try,” I say finally.
“You’ll try.” He lets out a bitter laugh and leans his head back against the wall. “Great.”
“I will!” I say with a smile, as I bite into the burger again. “As long as Charlie isn’t around, I’ll let you say hello, okay?”
He looks up at me, seeming to realize something automatically. “What do you mean? You’re the one who’s calling?”
I shrug. “Yeah, so what?” I say as I chew.
He laughs and shakes his head. “Great. Now I know I’ll be dead in three days.”
“Hey.” I glare at him. “That’s kind of rude, don’t you think?”
“Oh I can tell you what’s fucking rude,” he spits at me. “Keeping me here against my will.”
“God, will you cut it out,” I groan. “I know what’s going on. You don’t have to keep reminding me. Hell, I snuck out on Charlie tonight so I could keep you company and feed you. You could be a little bit more appreciative, Justin.”
“Would you just stop pretending to be my friend?” He grunts, shrugging his shoulders in frustration. “It’s fucked up, and stupid.”
“Would you rather me kick the crap out of you?” I shoot at him, coldly. “Because I can. I mean, Charlie has been a great influence so far, so it shouldn’t be too hard.”
He just rolls his eyes.
I continue to eat, and he continues to stare. He’s so fucking stubborn, and I can just tell this is sort of how he is in real life. He doesn’t like to be pushed around, and told what to do. It’s probably why he’s so successful, and I wish I could have been that way before I met Charlie. Like...stronger, so I would have done something with my life besides becoming Charlie’s coke addicted whore. But this is my life, and as always, I’m making the best of the situation.
“So what happened to you?” He asks me after awhile. “You fall too?”
He’s referring to my black eye, and I groan as I look down at the ground. “Something like that,” I mutter.
“Charlie did it, didn’t he?”
His voice is soft now, gentle, almost like he gives a shit. I meet his gaze again, but my expression remains emotionless. “He was just frustrated, that’s all.”
“Sure.” He nods. “That makes it completely okay then, right?”
“No....” I run a hand through my hair. “I dunno.”
“Does he hit you all the time?”
His voice is nothing more than a whisper, and the concern in his eyes is unmistakable. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was trying to be my friend, and I should point out that it’s fucked up and stupid just like he told me before. But I won’t. I can’t, because nobody has given a shit about anything I’ve been through in years. “Yeah,” I nod, my voice soft. “Not as hard as this but...yeah, he does.”
“You shouldn’t let him.”
I look at him, and find that he’s staring back at me seriously. He’s right. I shouldn’t let him, but half the time I feel so powerless against Charlie, because I love him so much. I’m defenseless to his anger. Fighting back, I know, would only end up getting me killed in the end.. “I don’t let him,” I say, knowing its a lie. “It just happens, and fighting back is a bad idea.”
He smirks slightly. “You’re weak.”
I glare at him, hating his comment. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”
“Yeah I do.”
He straightens himself a little more, for the first time giving me a tiny grin, exposing his perfectly aligned smile. It’s a nice smile. One I could fall in love with if given the chance.
Fuck, I need to stop this, right now.
“You’re that girl that had to be the rebel,” he tells me. “You met a guy that stood out, and you thought it was great, you know? You stood out from your friends, and you were dating an older guy. Then it all backfired in your face. Now you’re stuck with him, hooked on drugs, and this whole thing is your last gleaming hope to do something right...prove to him and everyone else that you can be the bigger person and figure shit out.”
I stare at him. I can’t believe he just analyzed me like that and got it right. I always thought I was too complicated for most people to figure out. My parents and friends didn’t understand, so how could anybody else? It pisses me off. I feel like slapping him and pushing him up against the wall, yelling at him to shut up. But I can’t do that. I’m not Charlie. I’m not a violent person, and given the situation I should expect him to act smug like this. He’s trying to make a point with me, prove to me that he’s strong and I’m not going to bring him down, despite the fact that I caught him crying. It’s a defensive thing, all psychological and crap. “You’re smart,” I murmur.
“I know,” he sighs. “And that’s what pisses me off, Sam. I’m smart but I let you outsmart me when you hauled me out of that night club.”
I stare at him, realizing that he’s remembered what happened that night. He knows I’m the one who lured him out of that club, the one who betrayed him. I should be frightened, tell Charlie that the drug didn’t work and he remembers most of what happened to him that night. But I can’t do that, and I have no idea why. I just have this inner voice inside of me, telling me that I can’t sell him out...that I need him more than I know, and I just don’t understand. He’s looking right back at me, waiting for me to come out with some frustrated remark that will make his ego grow larger. But I won’t. I don’t want to fight with him. I’d much rather have a logical conversation to pass the time. “Why’d you let me lure you away to dance, Justin?” I ask him, as I look down and pick at my nails. “You could have had any girl in that club.”
He’s silent for a long time after that. I try to look him in the eyes, but he only looks at the floor. “I’ll eat,” he finally says.
He doesn’t want to talk about it. I realize that it’s something he still feels stupid about, and if I know men at all, I know that they hate to admit when they’ve been weak. So I won’t press him. No, not now. It’s just not the right time. “Good,” I say gently, pulling another burger out of the bag. I slide over to him again, and hold it up to his mouth.
“At least let me eat it myself,” he groans. “I’m really starting to feel like a dog.”
I shake my head. “No way. I can’t trust you now.”
“Give me another shot,” he asks me, with pleading eyes. “I’m not going anywhere with my feet bolted to the floor anyway.”
I sigh heavily. I know, I know, he has a point. He can’t run...but what if he tries to choke me or grab my gun? I won’t know what to do. I’ll just crumble, and if he doesn’t kill me, Charlie will. “You have to understand that he’ll kill me if you get away,” I tell him after a moment. “I can’t risk it again.”
“I’m asking you for a chance,” he says quietly. “If you can’t give me that, then you might as well just leave, because I’m not going to sit here while you feed me like I’m an infant.”
“You’re making this really difficult,” I snap.
“It’s a difficult situation, Sam.”
I stare at him for awhile, waiting for him to give up, let me feed him like I want to, but he never does. I realize that he can play this little game for as long as he wants, and it won’t matter to him at all. I can tell he’s hopeless, that he knows if he doesn’t eat he’ll just die that much faster. I hate that he’s so down, and that it’s mostly my fault. “Fuck,” I mutter harshly as I dig the handcuff key out of my pocket. “Do you always get your way?”
“Mostly.”
He’s snickering as I unlock one of his cuffs, allowing one of his hands to go free from the restraint. He stretches his arm out for awhile, rubbing his wrist with his other cuffed hand because of the deep ligature mark indented into his skin.
I pull the gun out of my pants, and point it at his chest with a shaky hand. His small smirk becomes non existent at the site of my gun, but I know I don’t have a choice As much as I hate what I’ve done, I can’t let him think that I don’t have some kind of control over him. “I’ll give you this, but that’s all,” I tell him gruffly, handing the burger he requested over to him with my free hand, along with a bottle of water.
He eats it eagerly, not even taking the time to thank me, but I don’t think he can. It’s obvious he was starving, and I start to feel the guilt overwhelming me all over again. “Slow down,” I tell him softly. “You’ll get sick that way.”
He chugs some water, before he’s able to respond. “Sorry. Guess it’s that whole not eating thing that got to me, you know?”
I glare at him, keeping my gun pointed at him. “Dick.”
He laughs. He actually laughs, and I don’t know whether it’s genuine or just because he’s going slightly insane the more he’s cooped up here. No matter, it feels good to hear it. It’s the happiest sound I’ve heard in a really long time. “Here,’ I say, handing him the box of fries one he’s finished with the burger. “I have two more of those in the bag too, but you should probably wait a few minutes.”
He shrugs. “This is enough,” he says, shoving a handful of fries into his face. “I gotta watch my figure,” he smirks, sarcastically.
Why am I laughing while a gun is in my hand? Is this actually happening? Am I sitting here with Justin, kidnapped and all, joking around with him? This isn’t normal. Not at all. I think we need to get a shrink in here to psychoanalyze this situation. What do they call it? Stockholm Syndrome? Yeah, when a victim develops a bond with their captor. But wait, I’m not the victim. Justin is. So what the hell do they call it when the captor starts to befriend their victim?
Oh yeah, I got it now. Fucking crazy, that’s what they call it.
Justin has another burger after all, and I sit against the wall with my gun pointed at him as he eats it. He doesn’t seem to care anymore. It’s like, he’s coping with his surroundings, knowing that he doesn’t have a choice. Now that I think about it, he’d do well in the army. My brother was in the army. He went to Iraq a few years ago, got put on the missing in action list six months in. I met Charlie right after. Maybe that’s why I lost my mind. Craig was my best friend. I tend to forget about him most of the time, because of the drugs and everything that Charlie does to me. It’s only times like this, when I need to veg out, do I remember him at all...
Remember how much I miss him.
“You know Sam,” Justin says once he’s finished eating and guzzled another bottle of water down. “I really gotta pee.”
I laugh. “Right.”
“I already did it in my pants once,” he mutters. “I feel fucking gross.”
“It’s not my problem.” I say nervously, as I get up to cuff him back up. “Come on, turn around.”
“I gotta fucking go,” he says miserably, as I begin to yank his arms behind him again. “That’s fucked up. You’re gonna bring me food but not let me piss?”
“Exactly.” I lock the cuff around his wrist again, and put my gun away.
“Sam.”
“No.” I grunt snatching the food wrappers up off the floor. “I’m sorry okay? When Charlie comes tomorrow he can take you.”
“I’m not letting that asshole take me anywhere,” he scoffs. “You gotta be kidding.”
I stop what I’m doing, and turn to face him again. He looks really bitter now, really angry, and I’m sure he’s not lying about his need for the bathroom. But after last time, I’m just...really not in the mood to chase after him again. “You know, if you hadn’t ran the last time, I’d be able to take you.”
“You really shouldn’t hold that against me,” he nods, leaning himself against the wall. “I had to try once at least.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“You mean to tell me that you wouldn’t have tried to run if you were in my place?” He challenges. “Give me a break.”
I honestly have no idea what I’d do if I was ever put into Justin’s position. If I was a stranger, and Charlie had kidnapped me I’d probably be scared shitless of him. I’d be too afraid to try anything. But I guess...I guess if Justin was the one, maybe things would be different. But wait, no...Justin’s not capable of something like that. Damn it. God. No...I can’t give in. I can’t.
“So you’re going to let me piss myself, like an animal,” he says to me with a smug smile when I don’t respond, probably seeing the despair written all over my face. “I’ll smell like piss in a few days, you know. It’ll make me sick, make me puke all over the place, hell...maybe even on you.”
I hate him. Absolutely can’t fucking stand him. “I swear to god, Justin. If you try to run again I don’t know what I’ll do to you.”
“I’m not running,” he tells me, his expression serious. “It’s dark, and you’d catch up with me just like the last time. I know that now, before I didn’t.”
I stomp my foot in frustration. He seems so honest, but he looked that way the last time too. But, I was high then. Maybe he really did look dishonest and I was simply blind to it because of the drugs. “Fuck. Fine...” I storm over to him and detach his handcuffs and the cuffs around his ankles from the long chains bolted to the wall and floor. “But I’m not buying into your whole ‘take my cuffs off so I can piss’ routine again.”
“I know,” he says quietly. “I guess you’ll just have to pull my pants down for me.”
“What!”
He laughs. “Well what do you want me to do?”
Fucking christ. I yank him to his feet roughly, and push him towards the door. “You’re sick.”
“I’m honest.” He looks back over his shoulder and winks at me as he smiles.
“Should you be smiling?” I say, opening the door and pushing him through it roughly. “Really, Justin?”
“I’m getting to piss,” he tells me, once we’ve stepped out into the darkness. “So, yes.”
I just roll my eyes and don’t say anything. It’s better this way, since it’s so dark and I don’t have a flashlight. I need to focus on making sure I don’t trip and let go of his handcuffs which I’m grasping by their short chain so he can’t walk ahead of me. After a few moments of grueling agony, and Justin telling me “no it’s over there” about twelve times, my hand finally makes contact with the port o potty door, and I swing it open. It smells like fucking dead rats, and really...nobody should have to go to the bathroom like this.
He turns around when I shove him inside, and it’s too dark to see the expression on his face, but I dont doubt that he has a smug smile on his face when he says “Well, go ahead.”
He wants me to pull his pants down, and fuck...if Charlie ever knew about this he would shoot me first, then shoot him. “You better be thankful for this.” I feel around for the belt that I know is there, and tug it loose.
“I feel like I’m in an alley, and you’re some two cent hooker that’s about to go down on me.”
“Shut up Justin,” I seethe.
He just laughs.
I think he’s going crazy or something. That’s gotta be the only explanation. When I first came here tonight, he wanted me to leave, and now he’s making me pull his pants down so he can pee. How did the tables turn like this? Why does he trust me? I have no idea, but I’m not about to ask him. I just yank his pants down around his ankles, and begin to shut the door on him.
“Unless you’re going to take my cuffs off, you gotta get the boxers too, girl.”
Oh fucking God. It’s his little plan. He doesn’t think I’ll do it, that I don’t have the guts. He expects me to give in and uncuff him so he can run just like he did earlier. But hell, it’s dark, and I won’t be able to see his...stuff, not well anyway. “You lose,” I tell him, opening the door back up and reaching inside for the material of his boxer shorts. I find it, yank them down, being able to see the shape of his ass before I close the door on him again. I lean against the door, my heart racing, thanking God that it’s not daylight. Fuck, I’m sweating, and my cheeks are burning. Why?
Shit.
I do not have a thing for this guy. I do not have thing for this guy.
“Hey Sam,” Justin’s voice comes from inside the toilet a few minutes later. “I’m done. You gonna zip me back up?”
“Make sure you’re turned around,” I call to him through the door, nervous as hell. “I have no desire to see your junk.”
“Really?” He calls back. “You mean you’re not a sexual sadist?”
He really is a fucking asshole, and I open the door harshly. His back is turned me still, thank god, and I sigh. “Just...don’t move okay? I can’t really see you and it’s...better...God.” I crouch down and slide his boxers back up to his waist, then do the same thing to his jeans, spinning him around to fasten his belt again. I glance up at him as I slide it back into place, and find that he’s smirking at me. “Stop smirking,” I tell him gruffly.
“Why? This is funny.”
“You’ve lost it.” I shake my head and yank him out of the toilet by his upper arm, shoving him back towards the door to the shack. “I think that second dose of drugs did you in.”
“I need some kind of entertainment,” he tells me, once we’re safely back inside. “And aww, Sam. You’re blushing. How cute.”
I push him back down onto the mattress, and he groans slightly, but it’s followed by a spout of laughter. “Quit it,” I tell him. “Seriously, it’s not funny.”
He rolls his eyes. “Maybe not to you.”
“I have to go,” I tell him, after I’ve chained him back up again. “DId you have enough water? Do you need more before I leave?”
“I think I’m good,” he tells me with a small smile. “I’ll see you in the morning, so I can talk to my mom, right?”
I sigh. I forgot about that. How I gave him a little hope that he’d be able to talk to his family in the morning. I mean, I didn’t guarantee that, but I think just having that hope inside of him, made his mood the way it’s been during the time I’ve been here. “Maybe,” I tell him. “I said I’d try.”
“Please, Sam,” he says softly as I swing my purse over my shoulder. “This is killing her...everyone. I don’t want them to be in the dark.”
The hope in his eyes is killing me, but I don’t want to promise him anything. If I let him down, it’ll be even worse for him. “If Charlie isn’t here,” I nod. “I’m leaving you these magazines. Maybe you can kind of toss the pages around somehow from behind your back.” I toss them on the mattress.
“Great help,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “Hours of enjoyment.”
“What do you want from me?” I say. “A peep show.”
“Hey, it’s only fair,” he tells me, his eyes full of playfulness. “I showed you mine, so you can show me yours.”
“You know, you would say that,” I grunt. “Goodnight, Justin.” I head towards the door, and swing it open for the final time tonight.
r32;“Hey Sam,” he calls back to me.
I groan as I look back over my shoulder. “God, what now?”
He looks down at his lap. “Thanks for coming to see me.”
I stare back at him, my mouth slightly agape. Did he really say that? Yeah...yeah he did. “Um...yeah, no problem.”
I walk out the door after that, locking it behind me, not giving him another chance to draw me into him anymore than he already has.
Jesus. I need a hit.
Story Tags: love celebrityj breakupj justin
