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And this…
This was the fucker trying to get me to sabotage myself. I didn’t know what he knew exactly, but blow wouldn’t render me useless. And it wouldn’t turn me against my brothers. What itwoulddo was keep me awake for as long as I needed to be awake to find her.
It would make me a fucking wrecking ball of a human being, bulldozing everything and anything that stood in my way of getting to her.
I needed it.
Just for now.
I could stop.
I’d stopped before.
Before I could change my mind, I tore the baggy open, spilling the contents over the counter. I dipped my pinkie in the mound of powder and rubbed it onto my gums, tasting the familiar flavor.
Woody. It was pure. Had to be.
I waited a minute to be sure, feeling the small hairs on the back of my neck lift with the slow tickle of a high.
I fingered a card from my wallet, dividing the rest into two thick lines. Rolled up a bill.
My phone rang, and I set it on the counter, watching Grey’s number flash insistently on the screen.
“Sorry, Bro.”
I tappedignoreand put the rolled bill to my nose.
If I could,I would’ve chewed my own fucking arm off by now. But with the thick leather strap tight as a noose around my neck, that proved impossible.
The equally tight straps around my wrists afforded just enough wiggle room for me to annihilate the skin there trying to get them free.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
“Fuck!” I screamed into the room, the frustration and anger so intense it might take on a life form all its own and burst out of my skin.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
“I swear to fucking god…” I growled into the pitch darkness, promising a thousand things worse than murder to the nothingness.
My wrists were coated in wetness I knew was my blood, and a thin material hung off my slowly withering frame. An oversized t-shirt? I couldn’t be sure. But I knew who it belonged to. The smell of his stench, piney with that sour tang of lime was embedded deeply into the fabric, unable to be washed out.
I’d have questioned why he put a fucking shirt on me and no pants but that became obvious upon waking, when hot urine burned its way out despite my trying to hold it in.
This fucking chair or whatever it was had a hole in the seat, big enough to let my mess pass through, drained away to a metallic sounding bucket beneath.
The worst part wasn’t that I couldn’t see. And it wasn’t that I was strapped down. The worst part was that I felt… clean.
Smelled clean.
Like cheap strawberry shampoo and Ivory soap. I tried not to let my mind run away with all the possibilities of what else he could have done to me while I was out. The space between my legs didn’t feel any different. It didn’t feel sore or violated. So unless this guy had a micro dick, there was a pretty good chance he hadn’t touched me. At least not yet.
I squinted into the dark, not for the first time since I woke up, but still I couldn’t see anything. I had no idea if this was even the same room or a different room entirely. All I knew was that dick face had clearly grown tired of my antics and decided to strap me down. Honestly? It was probably the smartest move on his part.
But it didn’t bode fucking well for me. I growled through a pained moan trying to claw its way up my throat when I tugged at my restraints again. It was no use. Even if I broke both my thumbs, I wouldn’t be able to slide my hands free. No, if I could do literally anything to break them, I would’ve already tried that.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
If I had to listen to thatfuckingdripping for another second I was going to go mad.
