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Once I would get comfortable, that’s when they would crank the music up. Not knowing how long they kept me here means not having the slightest idea how long I have gone without sleep. It’s also hard to get cranky when there’s no one to lash out at. Well, that’s not particularly true. Some of the pristine white walls are covered in my blood and my fists are cracked with wounds. The walls don’t really fight back, but they also make for unsatisfactory brawling partners.
I have also been guising my tantrums into looking for escape routes. If I’m screaming, they are not playing music. Probably because they want to fully enjoy my misery. I’m not going to complain. Screaming is easy and doesn’t require a thought process other than to breathe every now and then. Unfortunately, there’s not been much to see as far as exits go. I’m not brave enough to see if the bucket is part of a septic system, and the door doesn’t have any handles that I can see. There’s a piece of white puff that drops in for meals. From what my body clock is telling me, they are pushing each meal further apart.
A loud slamming on the door jolts me from my silent thoughts.
“You’ve got company!” Someone shouts before the door creaks open. My body is weak and sore from lack of normal upkeep, so storming that person would be idiotic.
“Just the whore I was looking for,” he smiles wickedly.
“Fuck off.” Spitting at his shoes, I scoot myself further into a corner. Heckles laughs at my predicament, coming closer even as I try to shrink myself into the corner. He doesn’t move quickly, almost as if he has all the time in the world.
The nearer he gets, the more my brain takes me back to the time when Heckles stopped being a loving Dom. How fast he turned from this sweet, caring Dominant to a man who would make the Devil pray at his feet. The torture he put me through and erased the sense of ease from me…
Squatting in front of me, he squints as if looking at a specimen at the zoo. “Hmm,” he hums, tilting his head back and forth slowly. If I were in better shape, I would lash out, striking him at this level. However, I know I’m not up to par. So, I wait. There will be a moment when he won’t see it coming. Finally, he decides to grace us with his nasally voice.
“It seems your friends aren’t coming for you,” he sighs, pretending to be all too sad about that. Just as I open my mouth to retort, he presses a single finger firmly to my lips. Since I shoved myself into the corner, I can’t tilt my head backward and away from his grimy finger.
Reaching behind himself, he reveals a folded up paper that looks like it’s from Prez’s stationary. It has the P on it and the parchment seems the same…with a master manipulator holding it, I can’t avoid the fact that it can be a completely fake letter.
“Do you want me to read it to you, or do you think you’re smart enough to do it on your own?” He holds the letter between two fingers. Moving as quickly as I can in my drowsy state, I yank the letter from him. Instead of leaving like I figured he would, he stays exactly where he is, only moving his hands away from me to give me room to read the letter.
“Leather, if you are reading this, that means we unfortunately lost to Big D. I know it was your mission in life to avenge your family when you joined the club, but some dreams are unattainable. I am sorry it ended up this way. May we meet in another lifetime.
Prez”
“You expect me to believe this shit?” I croak, my throat froggy from lack of water. His smirk only deepens when he reaches back and grabs another paper. This time, it’s a torn-open envelope. It’s addressed to Heckles from Prez. There’s postage marks on it that show when it shipped.
One week.
It was sent one week after I was taken.
That doesn’t include however long I have been here. I mean, I have no fucking clue when a week passed, but it has to have come and gone at this point.
What the actual fuck? It’s been a fucking week and the club still hasn’t tried to find me? What’s the point of having this stupid fucking transmitter if they are not even going to use it?
Anger bubbles inside of me. You can’t rely on anyone anymore, not even the members of your own fucking club. The motto of leaving no one behind must only be for special events or for someone of a higher status. There’s no rescue. No one is coming for me. They surrendered to the fucking Big Douchebag crew.
What’s the point of being in a club if they are just going to leave you to fend for yourself? It’s fucking pointless, that’s what it is. It’s stupid and irritating, and I could have saved myself so many fucking tears. If I had known they weren’t going to try and come get me, I would have executed my plan to bust out of here already. But, no. I gave faith in my club, only to be devastated and disappointed.
I suppose that teaches me to never rely on others.
“Believe me now?” He asks, metaphorically rubbing salt in the wound. Tossing the paper away from me, I bring my knees to my chest and cradle my head in them.
There’s no fucking way that’s real. Prez wouldn’t fucking do that. He wouldn’t leave me here, not when the club motto is to leave no man behind.
They are not leaving you behind if you’re kidnapped.
I would smack my own head if I didn’t want to seem more like a fucking looney. So, instead of doing that, I focus on the way Heckles taps his dirty boots on the white floors. The aglet of his lace is crunched up, almost like someone chewed on it. I focus on the way his jeans appear to be dirty like they haven’t been washed in a few days.
“Is the whore getting horny?” I snap my eyes up to meet his, only to realize my mistake.
You never look your master in the eyes without permission.
Diverting my gaze back to his boots, I fervently shake my head. He reacts exactly like I thought he would.
