Jack

Once guy number 2 had left the room (I had decided to give them numbers, seeing as there were definitely three of them, possibly more), I let out a breath but soon tensed up again when I heard soft footsteps within the room.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to beat you up,” guy number 3 said, trying to sound comforting. I laughed, the sweet mix of exhaustion and anxiety giving me another rush of confidence.

“Right, like that’s going to make me feel better,” I said while shaking my head, a sarcastic grin plastered on my face.

“It’s meant to. I’m, like, really sorry, man. You have to understand we’re doing this for a reason, not because we want to,” the guy explained, not taking offense to my sarcasm.

“Sure, whatever makes you sleep better at night,” I replied, rolling my eyes behind the blindfold.

“I’m serious,” the guy said again, sounding like he wouldn’t drop the matter until I finally acknowledged he was saying the truth. Or, at least thought he was.

“Well, maybe you are doing this for a reason. Maybe the first guy is doing this for a reason, too. But there is no way that the other dude is not getting off from the thrill of trying to scare me,” I told him while trying to move around a little, my muscles feeling weak and exhausted.

“He gets a bit too much sometimes, we know. He’ll be alright once he stops acting like a brat,” the dude said and I could hear a smile in his voice. I let out a laugh.

“You’re such weird people,” I said. I could hear loud voices coming from somewhere further away but the place fell silent soon after. My stomach chose that moment to growl and I sighed, changing my position again.

“What day is it?” I asked once the other guy hadn’t said anything in a while.

“Sunday,” the guy replied. “You were out for a whole day before you finally woke up,” he told me.

“Ehh, that would explain why I feel like all my limbs might fall off,” I sighed, licking my dry lips.

Guy number 2 chose that moment to walk back in. I could tell by the huff he let out once he had stepped in, and I tensed up. I didn’t know why he was holding such a grudge against me. After all, he had been nice enough to help me through my panic attack (even if he might’ve done it just so he could slap me).

“He needs something to eat,” guy number 3 told him.

“No, he doesn’t,” I interrupted. “Don’t need you to poison me too,” I chose that as my excuse. “But a chance to go to the bathroom would be great,” I said, feeling a little safer requesting stuff while guy number 3 was still here.

Guy number 2 mocked me and I sighed, the room falling silent for a bit, except for a huff and a sigh, followed by some movement. “So, no bathroom for me?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” the guy exclaimed. “Take him to a bathroom and hold his hand while he does his business,” he said, mocking me again. I could feel the glare he sent me, a shiver running down my spine as he did.

Guy number 3 came over to where I was, uncuffing my hands and holding me tightly as he helped me stand up. I felt my cheeks heat up as I nearly fell over, my body feeling like it was crushing on itself. My head felt dizzy and my legs felt weak, and I doubted I’d be able to stand if it wasn’t for the other guy supporting me. I felt like an absolute wimp.

“My whole body feels broken,” I muttered, letting out a whine when I tried to balance myself and pain shot through my head.

“Excuse us that we can’t provide you with a high class service,” guy number 2 replied with sarcasm again. I sighed quietly while trying to move one foot in front of the other one, the simple movement proving to be extremely difficult.

The other dude spat something at guy number 2 and while it could’ve made me feel better, the discomfort was too much for me to handle and I bit down on my lip, whimpering slightly as I was guided away from the room and to the bathroom. Once we reached what I guessed was the toilet, we walked in and the guy closed the door behind us.

“Okay. This is where I would leave but seeing as you were barely able to get here, I feel like I might need to take up my friend’s advice and help you out with this,” he said, even though his tone was questioning and unsure.

My cheeks heated up again, the headache making me feel like my whole head would explode soon. If it wasn’t for the pain, I would’ve replied with something sarcastic but I had no fight left inside of me.

“I guess,” I muttered, ashamed of saying the words aloud.

“I’m sorry, dude. Stop beating yourself up, alright? I’ll just hold you up,” he told me as he pulled my hand around his shoulders and wrapped his other hand around me. I struggled to open the fly of my jeans. Once I had done that, I leaned down to feel the edges of the toilet seat. After that, all was a bit of a blur, probably because I decided to delete the memory from my head. The other guy flushed the toilet and helped me sit down.

“I’ll turn the shower on for you, okay? There’s dirt on your face,” he said and I could hear him cringe, probably wanting to say something about all the blood too but deciding against it. I could feel the blood on my face and the mix of blood and dry mud in my hair. I just nodded at him.

He moved around the bathroom, opening what sounded like a drawer before clearing his throat. “Alright. I’m going to remove the blindfold. Please, do not try to pull my scarf off, okay? As long as you don’t do it, I’ll respect you too,” he said and I felt his hands at the back of my head, untying the blindfold.

I was not ready for the brightness so when I finally opened my eyes, the light felt like a stab in my head and I moaned. “Fucking hell,” I swore, blinking a couple of times, trying to get used to the light.

Once it didn’t hurt as much to keep my eyes open, I looked up, only to be greeted by a man in a hoodie and a black scarf hiding half of his face. Deciding it was not a good idea to hold an eye contact, I quickly looked away, instead focusing on my hands that were smeared in mud, as were my jeans and my shirt. I cringed when I saw the dry blood that was decorating my shirt.

I used my hands to hold onto the toilet seat and pulled myself up slowly, nearly falling over but was caught by the guy again. Now that I could see, I felt less vulnerable but more embarrassed, so I quickly pulled myself together and regained my balance, taking slow, steady steps towards the shower.

I looked back, the other guy taking the hint and turning away from me. I got rid of my shirt, wincing as I moved my arms, every muscle in my body screaming at me to stop moving. Despite that, I managed to get rid of my pants and kicked off my boxers, stepping into the shower and pulling the curtain closed.

The first few drops of warm water felt like heaven and I sighed in content, unable to make myself move. However, I knew that this was only a luxury from my kidnapper, him showing me kindness, so I wanted no time and grabbed the soap bar and scrubbed at my skin, trying to get rid of the blood. I washed my face too, wincing when the soap touched some of the bruises on my face. By then the warm water had started dripping from my hair, so I used some of the shampoo I found and washed my hair, trying to not press my fingertips against my scalp because something told me that would be something I’d regret.

Once I was done, I turned the water off and pulled the curtain open a little, poking my head out. The other guy was stood there with a towel in his hands, handing it to me as soon as he saw me. I closed the curtain again, quickly drying myself off. When I got to drying my face, I got a couple of red spots onto the otherwise white towel. I touched my lip and then my eyebrow, looking down at my finger that was now red as well. It reminded me of the times I would get into fights outside school and come home looking like I had been dragged around the streets. Blood seemed like a symbol of strength back then.

“I got you a pair of jeans, clean underwear and a shirt. Your clothes are pretty messed up. I’ll put them on the ground and turn away, so be quick,” the dude said.

I pulled the towel through my hair once more before opening the curtain and stepping out, quickly grabbing the black shirt and pulling it over my head. Funnily enough, I was more worried about someone seeing my stomach than any other part of my body, so boxers came on second, followed by the pair of dark blue jeans. I looked at myself in the mirror, the reflection showing my multiple bruises and split lip, as well as the dark circles under my eyes. I sighed and turned to look at the other guy again.

“I’m, uhh, done,” I said, scratching the back of my neck. The guy turned around, as if a little surprised that I hadn’t tried to knock him out while his back was turned against me, and then reached for the blindfold. I visibly tensed but he just shrugged and stepped closer, “I’m sorry, but you have to understand there is no other way.”

I nodded, and the next thing I knew was I could once again see nothing but darkness. He guided me out of the bathroom and back into the room, and soon the metal cuffs were once again around my wrists. “You’ll be fine. I’m sorry you’re going through this, but there’s nothing I can do about it, Jack,” I tensed again when he said my name and he caught on because the next thing he said was “You can call me Z. I’ll see you later, Jack.” And with that he was out of the room, and I was once again left to wonder about where all of my fight had gone.

Notes

i don't know what pressure you're talking about, ilovetea.
jack is hella miserable and in need of some cuddles.

this is a sneaky 2am chapter,
guilty x