It’s taken me hours to come to this realization of course, but I know it’s true.  Deep down, Sam is a good person.  I can feel it when she’s around me.  When she makes stupid ass jokes and makes sure I’m okay.  When she let’s me know that it was never her intention for me to be terrified or tortured.  She was stuck in the middle of something terrible with Charlie, and this was his solution to getting out of it.  I can’t help but think that they kidnapped me to settle some kind of debt.  I just can’t see Sam willingly holding a gun to my head otherwise.  She doesn’t seem to have it in her to be evil.  Charlie yes, her no.  Her life is at stake, I just know it is, and I really wish there were a way for me to solve her problems without being  handcuffed and drugged.

But there’s nothing I can do.

It’s obvious that this is Charlie’s way of handling things, and nobody is going to talk him out of it.  He planned this whole thing out, fixed up this place so I wouldn’t be able to escape, and is forcing my family to give him an obscene amount of money so not only will his life and Sam’s life be saved, but they’ll be able to move to Argentia or wherever the fuck they want and live the good life as well.  It should anger me, make me really bitter and resentful towards the both of them.  I guess I do feel that way towards Charlie too, but despite the fact of how fucked up it is,  I don’t feel the same way towards Sam.  I almost want her to be happy when this thing is all over.  

I think I might feel good knowing she’s going to be taken care of.

I mean, as long as things go over well...if I’m still alive in the end of all this.

I got sick before.  It seems like hours ago but I can’t really be sure.  It tasted like stomach acid and ketchup, and all I could think was that I shouldn’t have eaten those greasy cheeseburgers Sam brought. The dried vomit is lying in the corner still, and it fucking smells.  I’m trying to ignore it, but it’s really hard, and I hope that Sam comes here soon to clean it up.  It seems like she’s been gone for an eternity.  The time seems to stand still here.  There’s no sunrise, or sunset.  No clock to tell me how much closer I’m coming to my untimely death here in this fucking box.  The only thing I hear is the constant buzzing of the fluorescent light hanging over me.  It’s driving me fucking crazy.  Before, I tried to make a game out of it.  I tried to pick out the pitch of the buzz, start up a little melody in my head with my eyes closed, hoping like hell that it would help.  It didn’t help.  I have too much on my mind right now to be creative, and I wish like hell that I could stand up...stand on that little wooden box in the corner and rip the light down.  Sure it would be dark, but at least it would be quiet in here.  It seems as the more time passes, the louder the buzzing gets.  I know it’s all psychological, so that means I must be losing it.  Shit, I’m losing it and I know I haven’t been here all that long.

Fuck, I need to talk to somebody.  I need my mom, or Trace, to set me straight, let me know that they’re going to figure this out and get me out of here soon.  Sam said she’d try too.  She’d try to get me on the phone with them.  But the more I hope that she’ll come walking through the door any minute, phone in her hand and a smile on her face, the more I know I’m dreaming.  Charlie is way too paranoid to let me talk to anybody.  The video was the purpose of proving that I’m still alive and I have to believe it will put my family at ease.  I have to allow that to calm me.

I need to be strong, suck it up, and hope for the best.

The trip Sam and I took to the port o potty last night was entertaining.  I didn’t expect her to take my handcuffs off, but I didn’t think she’d have the guts to pull my pants and boxers down, either.  I tried to pretend I was back home with my friends, drunk or something, and Sam was a part our little group.  That she did it on a dare because Trace told her she’d never do it in a million years, and I had agreed.  It amused me, made me forget that I was inside a foul smelling port o potty, and enabled me to be myself for a few minutes.  When we came into the light again, she was blushing too.  

It was like we were friends.  Like I wasn’t kidnapped at all.

Then she chained me up again.

I’ve been laying here ever since she left, trying to figure her out.  I keep asking myself where she came from, why she lets Charlie slap her around and degrade her, what I can do to convince her she’s better than all of it.  Fuck, am I going nuts? Is she? Or do we simply have a weird, uncanny connection?  We shouldn’t, and I know why, but at the same time I don’t think it’s something that can be helped.  When we’re alone we just...get along.  She has to do certain things to me and I don’t blame her.  But she doesn’t hit me.  She doesn’t threaten me really at all, unless Charlie is provoking her.  I know I can use her...I have to.  She could be the key to my freedom.

But the more I see her, the more I make her laugh and she makes me feel comforted, the more I don’t want to put her at risk.  

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I force myself to sit up, and slide myself against the wall, bending from side to side so some of my muscles can be stretched out.  My arms and hands keep going numb from the lack of circulation, and I hope Sam will let me stretch a little bit when she comes back.  It’s maddening, being chained up like this.  I feel like a fucking animal more and more, and it makes me want to hate her, but I can’t do it.  It makes me hate Charlie even more.  I want to kick his fucking ass the next time he comes here, despite the fact that I’ll be blindfolded with gun to my head.  I don’t care.  I just...want him to know how I feel.  I want him to be scared too.

But something tells me that scaring Charlie is easier said than done.

I hear the rumbling of a car engine drawing closer, and as always, my heart skips a beat with the small glimmer of hope that it’s somebody coming to help me, instead of Charlie coming to terrorize me.  But of course, I know that’s not the case.  I saw it outside.  I’m in the middle of nowhere, and nobody is going to stumble upon me accidentally.  When I woke up from the drugs last night...before Sam came, I felt so fucking hopeless.  I was alone.  There were no sounds of encouragement.  I was still chained, and the welts on my face were throbbing, mocking me...telling me that I had no chance at all of survival, that I might as well give up because I was going to get shot in the head anyway.  I cried.  I cried for a long time.

Then Sam was there, helping me to see past my hopelessness, her mere presence giving me strength, telling me I had somebody watching out for me.  That I was going to get out of this alive.

The door bursts open a minute later, and my eyes widen when I see her rush into the room and shut the door behind her.  “Sam.” I whisper.

“You have to be quick.  I mean, quicker than quick.”  She pulls a cell phone out of her purse.  It has some weird contraption attached to it, which I’m figuring is a trace blocker or something.  “I called and...and I don’t remember his name right now because I’m going a little crazy, but he said that the tape was bullshit and that he wasn’t doing anything until he spoke to you.”

I watch as she frantically flips the phone open, feeling a small smile make its way onto my face.  “Trace.” I  get out, my voice sounding weak as I say it.  My throat is still scratchy from when I puked before, and I know it’ll take a couple of hours before I can speak clearly again.  

She looks up at me like I’ve gone crazy.  “What?”

“That’s who you talked to.” I nod, knowingly.  “That’s my best friend.”

“Well he’s a dick,” she huffs in frustration.  “Do you even know what I had to do, so that Charlie wouldn’t come down here and shoot you, Justin? I mean, he was ready to.  He got so fucking pissed.”  She pauses, and rubs her face with her hands.  “He blamed me, you know?  Like it was my fault your friend is a stubborn piece of shit.”

I stare at her for a few minutes, the smirk on my face not going back into hiding.  I know Trace told her where to go, and he never would have put my mom on the phone with someone like her.  Although I would have liked to speak with her, I know it’s best for the both of us if I don’t.  Talking to her right now would be too emotional, and I need my strength right now...my sanity.  So, I’ll get to talk to Trace instead.  My smile grows a little bit wider.  I know I need him.  I need to hear him tell me that he’s handling this, and everything is going to be fine...that he’ll see me in a few days.  “How’d you stop him?” I ask her.

She looks back down at the phone and begins to dial.  “Don’t worry about it.”

“Sam...”

“Just don’t worry about it, okay?” she grunts.  “You have more important things to deal with right now.”

“Did he hurt you?” I ask after awhile.

She doesn’t answer me.  I don’t think she has the emotional capacity to at the moment.  She just stares at the phone for awhile more, before she finishes dialing what I recognize as my home phone number.  “I mean it when I say quick,” she grunts, holding the phone up to my ear.  “I don’t know who they have working against us, and if we’re traced...God, I don’t want to think about it.”

I nod at her as it rings.  It rings five times.  I start to lose hope.  Six... Seven...

“Yeah.”

Oh he’s really pissed off.  It’s a little odd hearing him this way too, because Trace is usually very mellow and doesn’t anger easily.  But right now somebody has put his best friend’s life in danger, and I know there aren’t too many other things in this world that can set him off as much as this is.  “Trace,” I say softly.  “Hey, it’s me.”

“Fuck, Justin.”  Suddenly, the firmness in his voice weakens, and I know he’s relieved that I’m alive more than anything.  “What happened?”

“I dunno.”  I eye Sam out of the corner of my eye, and she’s watching me with an impatient look on her face.  “I just...I’ve been kidnapped.  I don’t remember much.”r32;
Okay that’s a fucking lie.  I could tell him right now that her name is Sam, his is Charlie, and I’m being held prisoner in some abandoned lot.  But I doubt she’d let me get half of that out before I’d get kicked in the balls...or worse.

“Yeah, I fucking know,” he grunts.  “Justin, hell...I mean, I thought you were dead.  You just disappeared.”

“I know,” I whisper, trying to keep the fear and anxiety out of my voice.  “Is...is my mom okay?”

“She’s holding up okay,” he tells me.  “Listen, don’t worry.  We’re going to get you out of there and deal with the little cunt who’s doing this to you.”

He’s probably expecting me to lose it, cry or something, but I don’t want to.  I don’t want to sound weak because it’ll make him that much more stressed.  “I’ll stick this out,” I tell him softly.  “Please just get the money.”

“Can you tell me anything?”

There’s so much I could say that will help him find me, but I don’t know what Sam will do if I try  to tell him anything.  I meet her gaze again, and she mouths ‘hurry up’ to me with a roll of her eyes.  I just sigh.  This is yet, another chance for me to do something bold, to help myself get out of this situation.  I’d be crazy not to take it.   “A steak buffet,” I say quickly, recalling Charlie mentioning one near bye.  “It’s...mmmph...”  She’s taken the phone away, cradling it between her neck and her shoulder now as she presses her hand firmly over my mouth.  I look at her with pleading eyes as she pulls her gun out with her free hand and presses it into my cheek.  

It takes a moment or two before she takes her hand away from my mouth, giving me a menacing look that tells me I better not to try to say anything else.  She holds the phone closer to her ear now,  the angry expression in her eyes not going unnoticed by me.  “Get the money.  I’ll be in touch,” she mutters into the phone, and flips it closed.   “Have you fucking lost it!” She barks at me immediately, tossing the phone on the mattress.  

She doesn’t pull the gun away from my face and I start to breath in and out rapidly, knowing this is the first time she’s ever really made me fear for my life.  Yeah, that time outside when I ran was pretty scary, but I think I knew she wouldn’t shoot me then.  This time I’m not so sure.  I know if Trace takes that information and makes some kind of connection to my whereabouts, Charlie will freak the hell out on her.  That gives her enough of a reason to shoot me.  “I want to go home,” I manage to say, in a low voice.  “You can’t blame me.”

She knocks me across the face with the gun, and I do the best I can to remain firm and not cry out in pain, but it’s really hard.  I can feel the blood trickling out of my mouth, and I look down at the mattress, feeling the tears beginning to seep out of my eyes as the droplets of blood stain the material beneath me.

She just hit me.  It’s hard for me to accept, but it’s true, and I really need to watch myself...stop getting so lost in her.

“Jesus...fuck....”  She gets up and holds a hand over her mouth as she paces the room.  “Do you even know how much danger you just put yourself in, Justin?”

“So fucking kill me!”  I yell, trying not to sob all that much in front of her.  “I’m tired of this shit, Sam! I didn’t ask for this!”

“And I did?” She yells, sobbing now.  “Fuck...you know why we decided to kidnap you?  Charlie owes a loan shark close to a million dollars, and he’s fucking ruthless.  Now because of your mouth, you might have just fucked this entire thing up!  Don’t you get it? We’ll all be dead.  If the cops come, Charlie will kill you, and he’ll kill me too.”

“Fine,” I mutter.  “At least you’ll get what you deserve.”

“Oh great,” she snaps.  “I sneak out here in the middle of the night to cater to your ass and this is how you repay me?”

“I don’t owe you shit,” I say darkly.

“Yeah, of course you don’t.  Fuck Justin.  Fuck.”

I hear a ripping sound and a I look up.  She has duct tape now, and I’m completely confused.  “What are you doing?”

“We’re going somewhere else and I can’t have you drawing attention to yourself.”

“What?”r32;

She doesn’t explain.  She just comes over to me and presses a length of tape over my mouth and wraps it around the back of my head.  I whimper as I look into her eyes, completely fucking confused.  This isn’t the Sam I’ve come to know at all.  No, this one is ruthless, heartless and money hungry.  I don’t understand.  I thought...I thought I could sort of trust her after last night.

Apparently I’m a horrible judge of character.
 
Though, that would explain why I was with Shelly for so long.

She paces the room for a few more minutes, as I stare at her, completely helpless, and unable to speak...to talk her down.  It’s probably the greatest tool I have in all of this, my ability to talk to her, and make her understand that she needs to let me go.  She knows that, and it’s why she’s gagged me like this.  I hate everything.

I’m fucking hopeless again, despite the fact that I know I just gave Trace an inch as to where I am.  Not that it matters...we’re leaving apparently.

“Sam.”  Charlie’s voice booms through the door as he bangs on it, and it gets her to gasp and look over in the direction of the noise.  “Is he ready? Hurry the fuck up!”

“I’m coming!”

She whimpers slightly as she storms over to me again, and begins to lift the blindfold over my eyes.  I don’t bother struggling.  It’s not going to help the situation, and I simply stare at her for a moment or two.  Her eyes lock onto mine, and she doesn’t say anything, but I know...I just know how shitty she feels doing this to me right now.  Then I’m plunged into darkness, and I groan a little bit as my senses are thrown off.  I hear the rattling of the chains being unlocked from my cuffs, and a moment later I’m hauled to my feet, the cold steel of the gun being pressed into my ribs as I’m shoved forward, probably towards the door.

“Just don’t make a scene,” she hisses in my ear.  “Charlie isn’t in the mood.”

I hear the door being opened, and I nearly trip as I’m pushed harshly again.  The wind whips across my face.  We’re outside now, and I try not to make a sound because I know Charlie has to be standing near bye with his gun, and I have no idea if Sam is going to tell him what I just did.  

“You call that prick back?” I hear him grunt.

Sam tightens her grip on me as she presses the gun harder into my side.  “Yeah.”

“Well?”

“He gets it now.”

I hear a creaking of some kind.  Maybe metal...maybe a car door being opened, and I’m shoved forward, groaning slightly in frustration as I nearly trip over the chain connecting my ankles together.

“Are you sure?” Charlie asks quietly.

“Of course I’m sure,” Sam snaps.  “I’d tell you if there was a problem.  He knows who’s running shit now.”

“You’re so damn sexy when you’re feisty.”

She giggles and I’m disgusted.  I feel her hand me off to him, and he grips me strongly by the arms as he shoves me into what I’m assuming is the back of their vehicle.  My body collides with a floor that’s made out of something metallic, and I know I’m in a truck or a van.  I groan softly, hoping Sam will hear me and know how fucking traumatizing this all is for me.  But...I think I may have pissed her off too much to care.  I hear someone get inside with me, and I feel a gun press into my cheek again as something heavy bangs shut.  I start to whimper, all the hope I’d built up inside of me from hearing Trace’s voice gone because of this.  Even if I did give him valuable information before, it won’t matter.  If they find the trailer, they’ll only find some chains and my old puke left behind.  Fuck, they’ll probably think that I’m dead.

I’m not dead though, and I have to do whatever it takes to make that known.  I have to get Sam on my side again, make her trust me.  That’s going to be fucking hard too...but I can read her like a book, and I think that’s what gets her every time when it comes to her feelings about me.

The vehicle roars to life, and I feel it start to move.  We’re leaving, going far away from this place.  To where, I have no fucking idea, but it can’t be less pleasant than that fucking box was, that’s for sure.  No, not unless they’re going to kill me.  But they can’t yet.  No, they haven’t attempted to do a money hand off so they have to keep me alive...at least for now.

At least until they figure out a way to kill me and get their money anyway.

“Calm down.  You’re shaking really bad.”

It’s her.  I’d like to be thankful but right now I’m fucking terrified of her.  I just groan.  It’s the only thing I can do.

“Look, back there...I was afraid,” Sam tells me, rubbing a soothing hand on my shoulder.  “We’re going to a better place now, I promise.”

There is no better place.  I wish I could tell her that.  No matter what, I’m still going to be around them...I’m still going to be a fucking prisoner.  There won’t be a better place until I’m home with my family.  Sam is just fucking crazy thinking she can console me right now.

“If you promise not to make noise I’ll take the tape off,” she whispers to me.  “But it’ll go right back on if you decide to run your mouth again, okay?”

I nod.  It’s hard to breath like this anyway, and I know if I want to gain Sam’s trust again, I need to be able to talk to her.  A few moments later, she yanks the tape down around my neck, and I feel some kind of blade cutting it free.  I cough a little bit, trying to take deep gulps of air to calm myself down.

“Here.”

I feel her press a bottle to my lips, but I know this scenario all too well.  “No,” I moan.  “No drugs.”

“It’s water, I promise,” she whispers, the concern in her voice for me apparent.  “Come on, you need it.”

I don’t know if I can trust her after the situation with Trace.  I’m afraid Charlie has told her to drug me, just like before, only she doesn’t want me to freak out so she’s lying to me.  “Sam...”

“Shh,” she hisses.  “Don’t call me that right now.  He’ll hear you.”

I nod.  Then she presses the bottle to my lips again, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m weak or whatever, but I decide to drink it anyway.  I gulp the water down eagerly, waiting for the woozy feeling to come once I finish, but it never does.  She didn’t lie to me.  She didn’t lie to me even though I really pissed her off before.  “Thank you,” I croak out.  “And...I’m sorry, you know?”

“Please don’t be,” she whispers.  “You had to do it, I know that.  I just...I had all this adrenaline because of...what happened before I came to see you this morning,” she confesses, and I feel her hand caressing the side of my face she hit with the gun before, gently.  “I didn’t mean to lose it and hit you.”

“We’re even I guess,” I say, my tone emotionless.

“Yeah,” she says sadly.  “I guess so.”

It’s quiet after that, for a really long time.  I don’t know where Sam went.  I’m assuming she’s sitting here with me still, just away where she can’t touch me anymore.  I know it’s because Charlie is here.  If he caught her consoling me I don’t know what he’d do to her...or to me, and it’s better if we simply leave each other alone until he’s gone again.  I lay here on the metal floor, motionless, my body being tossed around slightly when the car turns or hits a pothole.  After awhile I start to feel a little bit sick, and I’m thankful that the tape is gone from my mouth in case I start to vomit again.  I really wish I knew where I’m being taken.  Supposedly it’s better, according to Sam.  But better could just mean I’ll be locked in a closet instead of being kept in some isolated trailer.  I don’t see how that’s better.  I mean, no matter where they take me, the situation isn’t going to change.  It’s just going to get harder from here on out.

Sam even told me that.

I don’t know how much longer it takes.  It feels like days, but I know I’m only being thrown off because of the blindfold.  Eventually the car slows to a stop, and there is nothing but silence all around for a few terrible minutes.  Then I hear a car door slam...footsteps that probably belong to Charlie circle around me.  I hear that squeaking sound again.  He’s opened the doors to where I’ve been hidden, and I know that means we’ve arrived at our destination.  I hear birds cawing...crows.  I hate fucking crows.  When I was young we had a garden in the backyard that the crows would always try and pick at.  My granny built this kick ass scarecrow though, that made them stop coming.  Trace and I named him Zeek because we were from the south and he looked like a hillbilly more so than a scarecrow.

I wish I was there right now, with Zeek and Trace, and Granny.  I try to think of them, of the past, of my childhood.  I try to think of anything to get me far away from this hell Sam and Charlie have put me into.

“What the hell Sam?  Put the damn tape back on his mouth.”

It’s Charlie, and I sigh.  I don’t want my mouth to be taped again.  “Look, I won’t make noise,” I say desperately.  

“It doesn’t matter what you won’t do,” Charlie says darkly.  “I want it there, so you’re gonna have it there.”

“Baby I really don’t see why...” Sam begins.

“Oh don’t you fuckin’ start,” he interrupts her with a growl.  “You know better.  Remember this morning?”
 
I hate him.  I want to scream at him, ask him what he did to her today to make her so frightened, but I know I won’t get an answer, and I don’t feel like getting hit again.  I don’t want Sam to get hurt anymore, either.  “Just do it,” I tell her, with a tired voice.  

The ripping of the tape comes seconds later, and then I’m gagged again, groaning as I feel somebody pulling me forward by my ankles.  It’s a long path to the edge of the opening, and I think this is a van now.  Yeah, I’m positive it is.  I wish I could see the plate, the color...I’d tell Trace the first chance I got even though it’s dangerous.  I just don’t care anymore, though.  

If I’m going to die, I’m not doing it without a fight.

I’m forced out and to my feet by who I’m pretty sure is Charlie.  He grips me harshly by my upper arm, and whispers in my ear not to “get cute” while we’re outside.

“Are you sure he said this is okay?” Sam’s voice comes a moment later as I’m shoved along what feels like a gravel road.

“Babe, I told you.  He wants to help.  You have a seriously warped conception of him.  He’s willing to split the money with us, and he’s going to forgive the debt.”

So, I guess we’re about to be accompanied by this loan shark that Sam was telling me about.  I don’t know whether or not I need to be afraid yet, but I’m assuming the answer is yes.  Sam seems terrified of him, and I’m sure he hasn’t hesitated to kill people in the past over money.  That means my life is probably in more danger now than it was back at the trailer, and I just don’t know what to do.  This guy has to be a professional, so that means he’ll know exactly what to do to keep my family from finding out where I am.  

I’ve just lost the rest of my hope.

I trip over something wooden suddenly, falling directly onto my face, feeling a warm gush of blood running out of my nose moments later.  Great.  Just fucking great.

“Well walk up the stairs dumb ass,” Charlie chuckles.

I moan, the pain mind numbing, then I’m kicked by him, and he tells me to get up and walk.  I do it.  I don’t know how, but I guess knowing that Sam is near bye watching all of this makes me want to be a little bit stronger.  There seems to be a million steps before I’m stopped short by him, and a knocking sound comes in front of my face.  There’s a door, and I start to pray that they have the wrong house.  That some innocent by stander opens it and brings me salvation.

I’m so fuckin’ dumb.

“He’s waiting downstairs.”  

It’s a mans voice.  He sounds dark, and intimidating and I don’t make a sound as I’m pushed forward.  There’s carpet...hard surface...carpet...a barking dog.  Laughter. Women’s voices.  The sound of a TV with a sports show on.  It’s obvious that there is some sort of party going on in this place, and now I’ve arrived, the cuffed, gagged, and blindfolded guest.

Nobody cares, and I guess this must be a ritual for them.  Funny, I’m usually the life of the party.  Today I’m just in the way.

I’m forced to walk down another set of stairs.  Strangely, Charlie lets me take my time now.  It’s probably because we’re inside where nobody can help me.  I try to listen out for Sam.  Knowing she’s close would give me some comfort, but I only hear Charlie’s footsteps along with my own pathetic half shuffle.  Is she gone?  Is she upstairs watching the game with the other people like nothing is happening?  Fuck.  I don’t know, but if that’s the case, she’s just pissed me off again.

“No shit,” I hear a male voice say after awhile.  “You really weren’t lyin.”

I’m shoved down onto what feels like a sofa.  It’s a plastic sort of material, maybe leather.  A leather sofa.  I lean my head down and press my nose against it to smell.  Yes.  Leather for sure.  I have a leather sofa.

I miss it right now.

I hear the sound of hands slapping.  Charlie and this one are buddies, and they’re both working against me.

I’m fucking doomed.

“So it’s really okay if he stays here?” I hear Charlie say.  “The other place...I don't know, I just don’t trust it anymore.”

“Hey, you know me.  Would I pass up a couple of mil?” The other man laughs.

I feel like I’ve been inducted into the slave trade.  Nobody seems to care that I’m here.  They just want the money.  Hell, I know they don’t care if I live or die right now, and it makes me want to vomit...but I can’t.  I’ll fuckin choke, and die, and that would be completely unfair to me.

“There’s a room over there behind the wall.  Toss him in there for now,” The man orders.

“Great.”

Charlie is happy.  Awesome for him.  I’m yanked up after a moment, made to walk forward, softly whimpering along the way.  This isn’t better.  Sam said it would be better.  Now I’m just going into another box, another prison.  Nobody will stumble upon me or find me accidentally.  

“Hey hang on.”

It’s the other man, and I’m stopped short as I hear something sliding open...maybe a door.  I freeze as I hear another set of footsteps making their way towards me, and I feel a hand slapping my cheek lightly a moment later.  It’s strangely warm, but not comforting like Sam’s touch.  It’s actually terrifying me, as if somebody was holding a bold flame close to my skin, threatening to burn it off unless I cooperated.

“Justin fuckin’ Timberlake, huh?” The man laughs.  “How fuckin’ crazy.  I mean, you’re kind of beat up, but it’s you just the same I guess.  Would you like something to eat?”

Is he really asking me that? Or is he talking to Charlie?  I just shrug.

The tape is ripped off my face.

“Go ahead,” the man says.  “You can answer now.”

“I...”  I begin, scared because I know Charlie is standing next to me.  I don’t know what I should do.  Should I just say yes and be done with it? Or should I try to convince this guy to let me go? That there’s more money in store for him if he does?  “Please let me go,” I say to him, figuring it’s worth a shot.  “I can get you more money--I can get you a lot of money.”

“Hey shut up,” Charlie says, shaking me a little.  “He asked you if you were hungry, not for a fucking sympathy plea.”

“It’s okay, man,” the man says with a light laugh.  “He’s entitled.  It’s his life at stake.  You know Justin, I commend you for coming all the way to me and not getting yourself killed.  If I was an honest guy, which I’m not, I might just drop you off in the middle of nowhere after this whole thing runs its course.  But who knows?  I mean, if I’m in a good mood I could have a change of heart or something.”

He pats my shoulder and I cringe.  “When can I go home?”  I mutter, despite the fact that his comment just now was less than comforting.

“That depends on your people,” he tells me with a sigh.  “I’ll get you a steak or something though, to pass the time.  How about that? I know my buddy here isn’t really accommodating, but that’s probably my fault you know? I trained him to be this way.”

I don’t want a fucking steak.  Has this guy lost his mind?  I mean, look at me.  I’m a mess, and terrified, and he’s acting like I’ve just checked into the Four Seasons.  

“If you don’t like steak I can get you something else.  How about a burger?” The man offers.

I just nod, only half hearing him.  I don’t care, because I’m not going to eat it anyway. I’m too depressed.  Too confused.  Too scared out of my fucking mind.  

“He’s offering you some hospitality,” Charlie hisses in my ear.  “What are you supposed to say?”

I fucking hate him.  “Yes. Thank you,” I mutter.

“Good kid.”  The man says, patting my shoulder again.  “Just relax in there, and don’t try anything stupid.  The walls are all soundproofed, and there’s a camera in the ceiling.  We can see you from any room in the house, so...we’ll know what you’re up to in seconds, and you don’t want to make me angry, Justin, do you?”

I don’t respond at first, but then I’m whacked on the back of the head by Charlie and I decide it’s best to answer this guy again.  “No, I don’t,” I whisper.

“Great.  I’ll send dinner down in a little while.”

I hear him walk away, whistling some random tune, and the only thing I can think is that he’s a fucking psychopath.  He’s so calm about this, it’s fucking scary.  I feel like I’m in some weird mafia movie, and that guy is the leader while Charlie is his lackey.  I know he means business despite his calm demeanor, that I have more to fear from him than I’ve ever had to fear from Charlie.  

“Move.”

I’m shoved through what I’m pretty sure is another doorway, and Charlie gives me another hard push a moment later.  I hit the wall and sigh heavily.  Fuck.  I wish people would stop hitting me and pushing me around.  It’s getting old and it’s making me weaker each and every time.  I need my strength, I know I do.  If by some grace of God I’m released from these cuffs again, I need to be able to run...to survive for a long period of time in my condition.  I know I must be dehydrated and malnourished and being pushed, punched, and kicked is only making me weaker.  

Something slides closed and it’s quiet for awhile.  I think Charlie is gone, and I start to freak out just a little bit.  I cry for a minute or two, until I feel the familiar coldness of the gun pressing into my head again.  Damn it.  He never left and I just proved to him how weak I really am.  “What do you want?” I whimper.  “Just leave me alone.”

“I need to ask you a question,” he grunts, shoving me harshly against the wall as he holds his gun firmly to my head.  

I don’t say anything, just wait for him to ask what he wants because I don’t want him to hurt me.  

“You got a thing for Sam?”

My heart starts to race, and I wonder if he can feel it.  It’s pounding, like it might burst out of my chest at any moment.  “I--I don’t know what you mean,” I say, my voice trembling.  He won’t believe me.  Fuck, he’s caught on.  He knows that I feel a certain way about her.  That I almost trust her...basically rely on her to be my sanity during this whole thing.  “You both kidnapped me.  I don’t have a thing for her.”

“I think you’re lying,” he whispers.  “And if I see you touch her, or look at her the wrong way, I’ll know.  All I have to do is rewind the tape.  My buddy showed me how to do it, and Justin...” He trails off and I can feel his breath hot in my face now.  I know he’s too close.  “I will fuckin’ kill you.”

I swallow hard.  “I’m not touching that skank.”

He slams my head into the wall, and I cry out in pain once again.

 “What’d you call her?”

“Nothing.” I whimper, my head pounding harder than it has since the first night.  “Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.”  

He shoves me down, so my face is pressing into a fresh smelling carpet.  Hell, at least it’s clean here.  I hear a chain rattling.  I know he’s brought more shit with him.  “What are you doing?” I rasp.

“Taking precautions.”

I feel something being connected from my handcuffs to the cuffs around my ankles a moment later.  When I move a little I can hear it rattling.  Yeah, it’s another fucking animal chain.  This mother fucker.  “Why are you doing this?” I mutter as I roll onto my side.

“Consider this a light punishment,” he tells me with an evil little laugh.  “Don’t want you to be too comfortable, you know?”

“Asshole!” I roll around, trying desperately to feel my way towards him, but all I do is bang into a wall, and I hear him laugh and start to walk away.  “Fuck...come back!  Don’t leave me here!”

Something slides closed, and I know he’s completely tuned me out.  I’m stuck in here.  I’m being watched, and there’s nothing I can do but wait.  Where the fuck is Sam?  I need her.  I need her to tell me that everything is going to be okay.  But...knowing Charlie, he’s going to do everything he can to keep her as far away from me as possible.

I feel lost knowing that.    

I feel lost, period.
*********************
“Hey...”

I roll over, groaning because my blanket is so warm and I don’t want to give it up for anything.  “Fifteen more minutes.  I swear, I’ll give you whatever you want then.”

“Baby...”  

She’s laughing at me, and I feel part of the mattress sink down, telling me she’s decided to sit beside me.  I squint my eyes open, and find myself staring into Shelly’s vibrant green eyes.  “You just wanna see me all groggy.  It turns you on.”
She pecks me on the nose.  “Rachael said that if I don’t get you up, she’ll tell Johnny it was my fault you were late this time.  I can’t have that riding over my head.”

“How about you just ride me instead, Shel?”

“Justin!”

I pull her down on top of me, silencing her protesting with a deep, passionate kiss.  She groans with pleasure, just like I knew she would, and soon we’ve both completely forgotten about my agenda.  Sure, I’ll be late...but it’s worth it.  I can never pass up a great round of morning sex.  Especially when it’s with her.

“Justin!”

There’s a slapping on my face, jolting me out of the dream.  I gasp and my eyes pop open to darkness, and I try to move my hands so I can clear my vision, but I can’t.  I can’t move at all.  Fuck.  I thought that this was the nightmare...that fucking Shelly was the reality.

But Shelly has been gone for a really long time.

“I’m up,” I groan.  “Who’s there?”

“It’s me.”

Sam.  The fear rising in my chest dies down, and I let out a long breath.  “How long has it been?”

“It's almost dawn.  I came to bring you some food earlier, but you were passed out.  Did Charlie drug you?”

I shake my head, hardly being able to believe that i wasted an entire day i could have spent thinking of a way out of this, fast asleep. It pisses me off, but I guess my body was really worn down from everything that's happened.  I know I needed the nap.  “No. I just...I guess I was just really tired.”

It’s quiet for awhile.  I think I can hear her sniffling a little bit but I can’t be sure, and I know she’ll deny it if I ask her.  

“Are you okay?”

Her voice is soft, and a lot weaker than it’s been since I’ve come to know her.  She’s stressed out, that’s a given.  But why is she worried about me?  We’re in a dangerous fucking place and the only person she should be worrying about right now is herself, because it’s pretty obvious to me that if the ransom goes south, she’s going to die too.  “I’m tired,” I tell her, knowing its the truth.  I really am.  I feel weaker now than I have the entire time I’ve been their fucking prisoner.  I need to be able to get up and stretch my muscles, eat a good meal, and get a shower before I’ll be able to feel like myself again.  The thought that I pissed in my pants the other day isn’t too comforting either.  I keep smelling it, probably because I haven’t pissed my pants since I was about four or five years old.  It’s just disgusting, probably part of the reason I got sick before.  I want a change of clothes.

I want to feel human again.

The blindfold is pulled away from my eyes and I squeeze them shut, the light in the room nearly blinding me.  I feel my heart start to race.  Fuck, she shouldn’t be doing this.  They’re watching.  Charlie will see...he’ll get angry.  “Put it back,” I say desperately.  “They’ll see.”  I force my eyes to open, and look up at the ceiling.  There’s a black ball there...the camera that I’ve been warned about surely recording me from within.

“It’s fake,” she tells me, gently.  “I checked.”

I stare at her in disbelief.  “No...” I shake my head.  “That guy said...”

“Adrian wants you to be afraid,” she tells me, rubbing my face gently with the palm of her hand.  “Charlie does too.”  She pulls me up and helps me to lean against the wall.  “Here, I’ll take this off,” she tells me, trying to smile a little bit as she pulls that tiny silver key out of her pocket, and unlocks the chain connecting my wrists to my ankles.

“Sam...” I whimper, slowly stretching my legs out in front of me.  It hurts like hell.  My thighs and calves feel like they haven’t moved around in twenty years, even though it’s only been a few hours.  “Sam you gotta get me outta here.”

“Shh.”  She hisses, calmly.  “Calm down.”

“How can I calm down?”

She shakes her head a little bit, as she pulls a styrofoam carton out of a brown paper bag and onto her lap.  “I can’t do anything!  I mean I’m trying to do whatever I can to help you feel better, but I can’t let you go.  Adrian would shoot you before you could get all the way upstairs.”

The aroma of a good quality hamburger and fries fills my nostrils when she opens the carton, and my stomach is growling, telling me that I better eat if I know what’s good for me.  But I don’t want to get sick again, so I won’t.  I won’t be forced to eat.  “Who’s Adrian?,” I mutter.

“The loan shark I told you about.”

“Oh.”

She stares at me for awhile more, before taking the burger out of the box and bringing it close to my face.  “I really am... sorry that I hit you.”

I look away from her, hang my head low and stare at the floor.  “It’s fine.  I don’t want to eat though.”

“Justin, you need to eat.”

“No.”

She sighs in frustration.  “All right,” she says quietly.  “I’m not going to argue with you.”

It’s quiet again.  I hate when it gets quiet.  It makes me remember how lost I feel, how afraid.  It suddenly occurs to me that she never told me what happened to her this morning, and it’s something that I want to find out.  If Charlie hurt her again, I swear to god...I really will find a way to kill him.  “Are you going to tell me what happened this morning, before the phone call?”

“Nope.”

I finally find the strength to lift my head and meet her gaze again.  “Why not?”

She sucks in a breath and rolls her eyes.  “Because it’s isn’t something that concerns you.”

“It concerns my life doesn’t it?” I snap at her, my intense gaze not faltering even though she looks extremely distraught right now.  

“Yes but...”

“Sam.” I narrow my eyes at her.  “What happened this morning?”

She runs a hand through her hair, and wipes a few stray tears off of her cheeks.  “Who’s Shelly?”

I look at her strangely.  I have no idea how the fuck she could know about Shelly.  I mean, our relationship wasn’t a public thing.  She’s not in the business, she’s a friend of Jason’s, and we met through him.  It’s the reason I liked being with her so much.  She was really naive to my career, and the things I had to deal with.  She wasn’t about being in the spotlight or answering questions about me.  She hated being asked to be in magazines, and detested the paparazzi.  We had a good thing going, her and me.  A private, fun, thing.  I’d come home from an event and we’d watch Family Feud like I’d just gotten home from a long day at the office.  We didn’t talk about my career much, not unless I had a big thing going on.  I don’t know how the fuck we fell apart like we did.  

I know why I can’t connect with a girl anymore.

It’s because I still love Shelly, and I hate that Trace is always right about everything.

“How do you know about Shelly?”

“Well you’ve been muttering her name in your sleep since I’ve been down here,” she explains.  “I figured she was your girlfriend or something.”

I hadn’t even realized, and now I just feel like a fool.  This has probably been going on for awhile then, when I’ve been home, asleep in my own house, in my own bed.  I fucking miss her.  I can hide it really well from myself when I’m awake and active, but I guess I just can’t do it when I’m asleep.  That’s when my true feelings come out.  I really...I mean, I don’t hate her, I’m just angry.  If I saw her again, I’d probably be happy.  I’d wrap my arms around her, and let her tuck her face between my neck and shoulder.  Just holding her would fill me up with more joy than I’ve felt since the day she walked out on me, when I screamed at her that she was worthless and that I didn’t care if she left.

I was fucking dumb.

I still am.

“She was,” I confess, quietly.  “Not anymore.”

“What happened?”

I look at her quickly.  She’s glancing down, picking at her nails, and I know this is her way of avoiding the subject I’ve asked her about.  I’ll let it go for the moment, but I’m not going to forget about it.  “We just sort of drifted apart, I guess,” I say softly.  “I was busy with work, and couldn’t make enough time for her.  She gave up on me.  I used to hate her for it, but...now I guess I can see her side of things a little clearer.  A part of me still loves her but, it’s basically just a lost cause now.”

Sam nods, as if she understands.  “How long were you guys together?”

I laugh sadly.  This is the part that makes me regret our break up the most.  Four fucking years I spent with her.  My family had come to love her, my friends did too...except for Rachael.  The two of them never quite saw eye to eye, but they both have really strong, outgoing personalities, and I knew from the moment I met Shelly that she wouldn’t get along with my cousin at all.  “Four years.”

“Damn,” she sighs.  “That’s awhile.”

I nod, but I want to stop thinking about her.  It’s making me upset, and edgy and the last thing I want to do is lose my temper in front of Sam, because I know she’s just trying to help.  “Yeah.  How long have you and Charlie been together?”

She looks at me as if she’s not sure that she should tell me.  “Two and a half years,” she finally says, with a light laugh.  “Too long.”

I shrug.  “He made you happy once though, right?”

She crosses her arms.  “He’s always made me happy,” she defends.  “He just...was calmer in the beginning.”

I just sigh and shake my head.  It’s so fucking typical that she defends him.  He’s put the fear of God in her and she’s too terrified to make him out to be anything other but the best boyfriend in the world.  “So, he just hit you a couple of times of week back then, now it’s gotten to be an everyday thing.  That’s just great, Sam.  What’s it going to take for you to leave him?  A bullet in your head?”

“It’s my fault,” she scoffs.  “I’m an idiot.  It’s not Charlie’s problem.”  She puts a hand to her forehead and closes her eyes.  “This isn’t even about me...God, don’t change the subject, Justin.”

“Can’t help it,” I whisper, gently.  “I hate to see you like this.”

She stares at me like I’ve gone crazy.  “I’ve kidnapped you... held a gun to your head.  I deserve everything that happens to me.”

I shake my head roughly, trying to sit up more so I can be closer to her, but I pathetically fall over onto my face instead.  

“Justin.”  She gasps, gripping my arm and helping me to sit back up again.  Our eyes meet, and we stare at each other for what seems like an eternity.

“What happened this morning,” I say, before she can tear her gaze away.

She props me up against the wall again, her face turning red and her lips trembling as she pulls away from me.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I didn’t want to talk about Shelly,” I say to her, sadly.  “But I did.”

“Jesus christ.”  She mutters the words into her hands as she covers her face with them.  “He’s was just really pissed, you know?  That guy on the phone...”

“Trace,” I correct her.r32;

“Whatever.” She says, shaking his name off with a wave of her hand.  “Charlie wasn’t counting on getting that type of a reaction. He...he wanted to kill you and find another way to get the money.  But I just...I couldn’t let him do that.”  She pauses and stares into my eyes again.  “You don’t deserve to die, Justin.”

She’s real.  Real as in, she has a heart, and is capable of being compassionate, being human.  I wish I knew the girl she used to be.  The one that’s funny, the one that smiles and likes to have a good time.  I could be friends with her...really good friends.

And eventually...more.  

“So what did you do? I question, the nervousness more than apparent in my voice.

She opens her mouth to speak, but then her eyes widen and she quickly closes it again.  “I can’t.”

“You should though,” I persist.  “It’s not fair to me.”

“Why is it fair or unfair? You’re alive aren’t you?”r32;

I chuckle sadly.  She’s a smart girl, I can tell, but right now she’s not understanding what I’m trying to get across.  “I’m alive because you did something to make Charlie change his mind.  I’d be dead otherwise and...and I just want to make sure that you’re going to be okay.”

“I don’t know why you care so much.”

“Yeah, well, I have my reasons--and I don’t know why you care so much about me either,” I whisper, still staring into her eyes.  “But here we are, and I’m sure as hell not going anywhere, so why don’t you just explain it to me Sam?”

“I don’t...care...I just...”

“Bullshit,” I snap.  “I saw you.  I saw the real you at that club, Sam.  You were happy then.  That’s the girl you want to be.”

“No.” She shakes her head roughly again, and sobs a little.  “Just stop it, okay?”

“Tell me what he did!” I yell.

“He’s making me sleep with Adrian!”

Silence.

At first I try to make myself believe that she didn’t really say that.  That I’m only hearing things or she’s simply playing a sick game with me right now.  I look at the floor for awhile and debate it all in my head, but I find that I have to look up at her again moments later.  She’s crying really hard, and it’s the first time I’ve seen her truly upset since I was taken.  “What do you mean?” I whisper.   “I mean...I get it but...why?”

“Adrian has always wanted a taste,” she says, in between sobs.  “Charlie said he’d never make me do it.  But...but I didn’t get the ransom call to go over smoothly enough, so Charlie said we needed to make it up to Adrian so he wouldn’t lose his patience.”  She runs a hand through her hair, and wipes the tears off her cheeks.  

“Don’t do it,” I tell her harshly.  “Not for me.”

“I'm doing it,” she nods.  “Your life is more important, and I’ll get over it.”  

She gets up suddenly, and starts to head towards the door.  I know she’s running away, off to do some drugs to get her mind off of everything.  I feel fucking horrible right now, like it’s my fault she’s about to give into that sick fuckhead upstairs.  I need to do something...get her out of it somehow.  But what can I do?  I’m just the victim.  The one who’s supposed to be silent and take everything with a grain of salt while I pray for my life.  But fuck...I just...

I just care about this girl too much, and I still can’t understand why.

“Don’t run away,” I tell her quietly.  “Just stay here.  Stay here until they make you leave.”

She looks back over her shoulder as she places her hand on the little latch that slides the door open.  “That will only make things harder for you.”r32;

I shrug my shoulders.  I’m getting to her real good.  A few more hours of this and I might just convince her to sneak out of here with me, away from all this.  I’d make sure she got on her feet too, I swear I would.  Yeah, it would be weird for my family and friends, but really...it’s nobodies business but my own when it comes to this situation and Sam.  She needs somebody she can rely on, and I can be that person.  All she has to do is trust me...let me in.  “Listen to me,” I tell her seriously.  “We can get out of here, you and me.  I’ll get you out of here...get you some help, you know?”r32;

She only laughs at me.  “You’ve been a prisoner too long, Justin.  You’re starting to crack.”r32;

“I’m not fucking joking,” I mutter.

She sighs and steps away from the door.  “You don’t have to worry about me,” she tells me with a reassuring smile as she sits down in front of me again.  “I’m a big girl, and I’ve done enough senseless shit over the past couple of years to know what I can and can’t handle.  The Adrian thing will be fine, okay? I’d rather put up with that than watch Charlie bury you in a ditch.  You’re a good person, Justin.  You deserve to go home and move on with your life.”

I shake my head.  “Be honest, Sam.  Even if you go through with it, you still don’t know if I’ll be alive in the end.”

“Why do you have to be so damn negative?” she grunts.  “You have to believe you’re going home.”

“Charlie’s fucking nuts,” I point out.  “You know as well as I do, that he’d love to see me get shot in the head.  I mean, when he took me down here he was going on and on about how I have a thing for you, and that if I don’t stay away from you he’d kill me.”r32;

Her hopeful gaze turns into a miserable one in seconds.  “He said that?”

I nod.

“Fuck.”r32;

“I don’t care what he says,” I laugh.  “It’s not like...you know...I want you or anything.”

She just shrugs.  “Yeah.  I know.”

We stare at each other for a really long time after that.

She has a freckle, just above her lip.  It’s the cutest fuckin’ thing.  I know that if we were dating in the real world, I’d constantly pick it out, run my fingers over it and shit.  Come to think of it, I’d like to run my fingers all over her body...

Oh fuck.

I’ve gone off the deep end this time.  r32;

“You really need to stop staring at me,” she huffs, in a jittery voice.  She’s pulled out that little baggie again, the one with her coke supply inside.  “It’s making me feel really weird, Justin.”  

She puts out her free hand and pours a small bit of it on top of it, snorting it up her nose quickly, letting out a relieved sigh after the drug takes its effect.  It’s obvious that it’s calmed her, but I know how bad it is for her body.  “Why do you do that?”