Abduction Ch. 01byOnce-ler©
I have a bad habit of waking up in places that I never went to sleep. I keep telling myself that I'm going to stop- that this weekend was the last one- that I have to go class in 4 hours, that I can't miss again- that I'm going to fucking fail out if I don't get my shit together. Then someone says that they'll pay me in perks if I'll just take them to pick them up, and we sit in the car and I roll up a dollar, crunch crunch crunch against the dashboard with a lighter, and I know that sleep is for the weak.
I know it's a bad decision when I do it. $2 and a lighter. A tank of gas- a free tank of gas- people who I've met before, but I can't remember their names- I don't think they have real names anyway... Drink this- put this under your tongue-
"Hey," I say, "You wanna see something cool? This is some trailer park shit right here. You don't need a fancy fucking mirror."
"Hey, wolf!" I raise my hand- I think that's his name, "Which way?" I point up and down, he nods when I point to the ceiling, "Ok, good." I tell him, "I've got shit to do. Thanks."
"I don't do needles,"
"You don't have to," the stranger- not a stranger, I know him from somewhere, replies, "You can put it under your tongue."
"Fuck!" the girl screamed, "All this shit on the floor is LSD!"
Am I going to lick it off the fucking floor? Who are these people- what is on their floor? It doesn't fucking matter. I've got a good immune system- it'll be fine.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Different house- I drove here, but I can't remember it, "You can't drink on shrooms man, you'll get sick."
What the fuck am I doing? Why am I doing it? I need to calm the fuck down.
Light a cigarette and the cherry glows and doesn't fade. I write my name in the air with it and laugh; the afterimage burns. I play with the shapes, red in the darkness of the night on some porch somewhere ... I don't know where. And I'm fine with that. Why?
It doesn't shock me when I wake up on the unfamiliar floor. What shocked me was when I reached into my pocket to get my first cigg of the day and I couldn't. Metal clanged on metal and my hands wouldn't reach. Ok... It's dark, but I can tell when I'm handcuffed- but they aren't normal handcuffs, they're... manicals, separated by a short chain. OK... wood or tile on the floor, nothing soft, I'm chained to a pole- like a fireman's or- no, it's warm, it's slick- it's a stripper pole. Alright. That answers pretty much every question. I could shimmy my hips to the pole, slide my hands down, and pull the pack out of my pocket. Good. Cig in my mouth, fumble with the lighter- motherfucking bright as fuck fire- there- lit good.
Take a deep breath and the nicotine coats the back of my throat and rushes to my brain and the pounding in my head subsides a little. Chain's so fucking short I have to almost press my face to the damn pole to smoke. But that's ok. Look for the safety and... can't find it. Fuck, it's locked- really locked- there's a lock- like from a locker, around the restraint. Not combination- keyed. Where the fuck is whoever locked me up here?
"Hello?" I cry into the darkness, "Hey! I'm stuck!"
Why am I chained to a stripper pole with all my clothes on?
I sigh as my mind bitches at me- of all the questions about my situation, the thing that makes the least amount of sense to me is that I'm still dressed. I was pretty fucked up last night- I probably pissed off some strippers, and they left me here as a joke. That makes sense. I am an idiot. But I have to piss and it's not fucking funny anymore.
"Hey!" I try again, "I can't get these off!"
Take another drag, go back to the lock. It would be so much easier if the fucking lights were on. The chain runs through the manicals and locks in the middle. Well, chain's only as strong as it's weakest link- maybe I can break it. I brace myself, one boot on the pole, the other firmly grounded, and pull. Release, snap, try to find a weakness, release, snap. Goddamn- that fucker is strong.
Ok- after the cig is an ember, I realize that I'm not breaking the motherfucker, so I slide with my back against it to wait. It's been a good 10 minutes, someone's gonna be here soon- if it's a strip club, they have to open. Big fucking joke, I can go home and take a shower, eat, and see what kind of pics from last night wound up on-line. I have got to quit this shit.
I lean my head against the pole and tell myself I will. This is the last weekend.
But I won't.
And it isn't.
And I know that.
Try to reach for my phone, curse myself and stand back up. Ok- motherfuck-
Phone's not in my pocket. FUCK!
I don't have my phone... There are at least ten thousand places where I could have left my goddamn phone. Goddamn it, I hate being fucking stupid! I slam my head against the pole in a fit of rage and stupidity. I need that fucking phone. I need to call, text, something, somebody to come and pick my ass up. I need the fucking light. How the fuck do you lose a phone in this day and age? You know you fucking need it.
I don't know how long I sat there, but you know what makes time drag by unbearably slowly? Having to piss. And I sat, and waited- fucking clock was on the fucking phone to- in that darkness, growing more and more agitated- I had convinced myself that whoever thought this was fucking funny was batshit insane- that I was going to beat the living shit out of them with my bare hands, and that I was never, ever, doing a single drug again.
I stood up to fumble for the cigarettes and light another one. Fucking light from the lighter blinded me, but I kept it on. Smooth stage, dark lights on the edges, and beyond that, more darkness. Thought I'd get more light from a good Bic. Fuck it. Nothing to do but wait. They couldn't have chained me in the goddamn bathroom? Well, they've got until I get bored and I'm pissing on the floor.
* * *
I have no idea how long I sat there, but I was down to half a pack before the door opened. It was evening outside- the sunlight wasn't searing, but it still blinded me. There was nothing in this place, no light, no windows. Hell, I could smell the air and that shocked the shit out of me. But the lights were on now, dim, and from beneath me.
"Thank fucking god," I stood and my legs creaked.
Only one guy had come inside- first one there, on the larger side, tall and fairly thick, but not huge. He can make fun of me all he fucking wants, just cut this shit off.
"Bet you thought I forgot about you, huh baby?" He asked and stepped onto the stage.
"Thought someone did," I slid to the other side, giving him easy access to the lock, "I've been stuck in here all day. You got a key for this thing? I don't remember what I did, but I musta pissed somebody off. I need a drink. And I have got to piss- so if you could get this off before anybody else comes in-"
"No one else is coming in," He assured me.
"Um... good," I shrugged. He hadn't moved, he was standing on the edge of the stage, staring at me, "So- you got a key?"
"Yeah," He said simply, still staring at me.
"What are you waiting for!? Get me lose." I held up my wrists so he would be eye-level with the lock.
He smiled. I shook my wrists to emphasize my point.
"Yeah, I know, dumbass got himself locked to a stripper pole. Dude, I have got to piss. Unlock me."
He moved closer and I let out a sigh of relief. Then he stopped.
"What's it worth to you?" he asked.
"Dude, don't be a dick, come on." This was getting fucking annoying.
He reached out, knocked my hair from the side and held my face. And it struck me-
Oh... oh- this guy-
I was fucking wasted last night.
"Come on," I held my wrists up again.
"Don't be like that, baby," He was holding my face between his hands now, and leaned down to whisper in my ear, "You know I can't let you go."
"Wait- what?" I don't know if I said it or thought it, then as an afterthought, "Look, I don't remember the fucking safe word or whatever, but I have GOT to piss!"
"I've thought it through. If I unchain you, you'll run." he explained calmly.
"What the fuck!?" I pulled against the pole again, thinking maybe the adrenaline surge would let me break the damn chain, but nothing. "I'm not fuckin playin!" I hissed, "Playtime ended when the fucking drug wore off!! I'm not even gay- I'm like... bar-sexual. It's over- I'm not in the fucking mood, now LET ME GO!"
I saw the punch coming, but my movement was so limited... there was nothing I could do. I felt it connect, hard, left jaw, and the shock knocked me down. He knelt down to be on my level.
"I said 'don't be like that'," he explained calmly, and ran a hand through my hair.
"Are you serious right now?" I asked through clenched teeth.
"It's ok, baby. You're scared," he stroked my hair and spoke in a soft, patronizing voice, "New things are always scary- but it's ok."
"I'm not scared!" I jerked my head back and hauled myself to my feet on the slick pole, "I'm FUCKING PISSED OFF! We are through fucking playing! Let me the fuck out!"
"Shss, shss, calm down," he spoke in that same infuriating tone, "Why don't you rest a little longer, ok, baby?"
He didn't answer. He had stepped down and was heading back toward the door.
"No! Are you serious! You can't leave me here! What the fuck are you doing?"
But he was gone. And as he clicked the lights off, I realized that I had been wrong about the door- it wasn't dusk outside- those were lights- electric lights, muted lights. The door only opened into another room. I still had to piss. I was thirsty. I was twitching from everything that I had come down from, and my face was probably building up a pretty good sized bruise.
Gotta break the motherfucking chain- maybe I can use the lighter and melt the metal-
it wasn't any weaker by the time I ran out of fluid, but it was hot to the touch. Jerk- clang, jerk- clang- eventually I was just to tired to do it anymore, and I slumped down, pulled my knees to my chest, and rested my face on them.