Set Me Free

What the hell is going on here? I was a little too shocked to scream and a little too scared to move. That was until I felt the night time breeze on my bare feet. I may not have been a self-defense expert, but I knew there was no way in hell I was about to go down without a fight. It was dark enough that no one would see me struggling, but not too quiet enough for anyone to hear me scream.

There was more than one person; I could hear more than one pair of footsteps. Doing the only thing that seemed smart at the moment; I shoved my elbow back and elbowed the guy who was practically dragging me across my lawn in the gut. I heard a grunt as he fell, also causing me to lose my balance and tumble down after him. More proof that there was another; while one pair of arms jerked me roughly off of the floor, another proceeded to punch me in the face. Who the hell were these people?

By the time I heard a car door open, I was freaking out, both mentally and physically. I started thrusting as hard as I could, trying to get the damn guy off of me. Whoever these people were, they took no mercy.

I received another three blows to the face and one to the gut, just for trying to move. At first I thought this could’ve been just a friendly prank by the guys, but whoever these people were, they sure as hell didn’t seem to like me very much. What the hell did I ever do to anyone?

Maybe it was Drew, trying to cast out his revenge on me or something by getting people to kidnap me...again. Seriously, what is up with me getting kidnapped twice in one day?

Once again, getting lost in my daydreaming, I stopped fidgeting until I was violently thrown in the back of a vehicle, by then; it was too late to do anything. Tying my hands behind my back and my feet together, whoever took me forced a gag in my mouth and tied that as well, forcing any sound that would be coming out of my mouth to stay locked up in there.

To say that I was scared would be a freaking understatement, I was fucking petrified! How the hell did these people get into my house and what did they do to my parents. Sure, I didn’t really care that much what they did to them, but what if they killed them? What if they murdered my parents? Oh my God, I’m getting kidnapped by murderers.
I was practically in tears by the time the vehicle stopped. I didn’t want to die and god knows where I was. It had been quite a long car ride, so I was only guessing we were in the shadier parts of town...the not so good ones. What if they held me hostage and asked my parents for a large sum of money or they’d kill me. I’m going to die! My parents couldn’t care less what happened to me. Hell, they’d probably do everything in their power to let them kill me. They’d want to keep up their reputations though, so they might pretend like they couldn’t get the money in time. What if my parents hired these people to keep me hostage? Unfortunately, I could see them doing that.

“Dude, you said you wouldn’t hurt the kid. What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I heard a voice ask, I thought I’d heard it somewhere before, but couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I was in tears when someone roughly shoved me into a chair and promptly set to tying me to it. Whoever took me had removed the bag from over my head, but before I could see who it was, a blindfold was placed over my eyes. I still had the gag in my mouth.

“Shut up...we’re just going to teach the kid lesson.”

The way the person talked seemed oddly familiar. I most likely knew who these people were, but there was something covering his voice. Like one of those things you see in movies where the person’s voice is reanimated with some sort of machine. It made the guy’s voice dark and creepy, but the way he talked...I knew him.

What were they talking about though? ‘Teach me a lesson’? What did I ever do to these people? Sure, when I was still with Jenny, she was bitchy to everyone and I just stood there and watched, but could all the nerds finally be coming together to kill me? And why me? Keegan and Josh were way worse than me. They would actually send some people to the hospital and manage to worm their ways out of it with their parents’ money. Is it because I’m the weakest one out of all of them? Is that why? Because if they got back at the tougher guys, they knew they’d die? I couldn’t fight to save my life. Sure, if the person was unresponsive and let me kick his ass, then I could do some damage, but if it was against someone, I’d surely die. Did they finally figure that out and now they’re here for their revenge? I don’t deserve think I deserve all of this. Not now...

Before I could even register what was going on, a fist, yet again, came into contact with my face, resulting in a sickening crack from my nose. Not again. I’m pretty sure my ribs couldn’t take anymore damage, but the person didn’t seem to know and even if he did, he didn’t care.

The person repeatedly dug his fists into my sides and kicked every part of me he thought he’d missed. Tears were freely flowing down my face as pain ricocheted from every crevice of my body. I was sure I looked like a bloody mess, but at the moment, I really didn’t care; trying to keep myself conscious was the only thing that rang through my head at the moment...that an the bloody migraine this guy was giving me.

“What the hell are you doing?” The familiar sounding guy shrieked.

My head was dangled down, forcing the blood to drip from my face onto the ground. There was no power left in me to try to lift it up.

“Since when the hell have you cared when I beat the shit out of people?” The other person asked. His deep re-animated voice sending shivers down my spine; and not the good kind either.

“I-I don’t, but we kidnapped him man, what if he dies?” Dies? What the hell is this with me dying? I meant it, I really don’t want to die.

“Oh shut the hell up, he won’t die.” The guy snarled, and shoved the other guy away (or, it sounded like he did).

After about five more blows to my body, my mind couldn’t take it anymore. I just had to fall into unconsciousness...I couldn’t fight with it anymore. I wanted to stay awake, just long enough for someone to accidentally say a name or something, but luck just didn’t seem to be on my side that day.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I woke up with the sun shinning down on my face and loud voices ringing in my ears. What the hell happened to me? It seems that every time I wake up in the hospital, I always ask the same question, but this time...I really didn’t know. All I remembered was talking and pain and then I woke up. Was this some kind of sick nightmare?

The television across the bed was on, showing some random people talking on the news. It didn’t strike my interest at first, until someone said something about a Beverly Hills hospital. I might not have remembered everything, but I still knew where I was.

The reporter lady was talking a bunch on nonsense I didn’t care about, then the camera moved, showing the front of the hospital where a bunch of people with cameras were trying to push past security and get inside. Paparazzi. What the hell are they doing here? I decided to pay closer attention to what the lady was saying.

“...At the scene here today where, just last night, the 17 year old son of multi-millionaire, Daniel Santon was admitted into the hospital with serious injuries. Apparently he was kidnapped from his home here in Beverly Hills and then brutally attacked and then dumped in front of his home where he was found this morning by neighbors. The doctors have yet to release his condition, but we will keep you posted on the latest.” She faded out and the camera turned to some guy rambling on about the weather.

So they knew that I was attacked. I wondered if they knew who my kidnappers were; I’d like to see who they are.

Before anymore thoughts could enter my head, the door slowly opened, revealing the last person I thought I’d see here now...

“Jorge?”

“Hey, little brother, how’s it going?” He seemed nervous, shifting from one foot to the other while looking like he was holding back tears. I could see why, his only brother was almost killed.

“Jorge, what are you doing here? Where’s Kris?” I asked, surprised that my voice wasn’t hoarse.

Before I could even register what was going on, Jorge had crossed the room in two steps and was crushing me in a hug. I felt water touching my cheek, so I knew that he’d finally started crying. Jorge was really the best brother anyone could ever ask for. I should just suck it up and move in with him already, it’s not like he’d kick me out or anything.

“What the hell happened to you?” He asked, pulling back. “I turn on the television this morning to see some snobby reporter telling the world that you were kidnapped and attacked! Dane, what happened?” He asked, sitting on the bed beside me.

I missed Jorge, seven years without seeing your own brother can really take a toll on a person. I’ve talked to him via webcam, but it’s just not the same. I missed Jorge more than I can ever say and seeing him here just made me want to act like a chick and burst out into tears.

I couldn’t lie to Jorge, not anymore. Just seeing him showed me that I had no other choice but to tell him everything that’s been going on. He deserved to know what dad’s been doing; it’s been weeks since I’ve talked to him. He’s called, but I just don’t answer the phone, I wasn’t ready to admit everything yet, not I have to.

“You look different.” Was the only thing I found myself saying, looking at the brother I haven’t seen in so close to a decade.

It was true though, he did look different than the sixteen year old boy I remembered from way back when; he even looked different than the webcam chats. His hair was longer than I remembered, reaching down to his neck, he had a five o-clock shadow and last time I saw him...he was taller. Yay, I grew!!! ^-^!!! Now is not the time to be happy about something as stupid as being taller than your brother, but like I’ve said before, I haven’t seen him in over seven years.

“Is that all you have to say?” He squeaked out, trying to control his emotions. “I mean, I missed you too little bro, but come on! This isn’t the way I imagined our sweet reunion to be. Can you at least tell me how this happened?”

“Honestly Jorge, I don’t know. I can’t remember anything about what happened. All I know is that I was in pain and then I woke up here, not ten minutes ago.” My voice was low and I looked him straight in the eyes, so he knew I wasn’t lying.

Shakily sighing, Jorge ran his hands through his messy hair and sat down on the chair close to my bed.

“I can’t believe this actually happened. Julia’s out there flaunting it for the cameras, pretending she cares.” Julia’s our mother’s name.

Jorge stopped calling her ‘mom’ ever since they kicked him out and disowned him. He calls dad, ‘Lucifer’ (name of the devil, for those of you who are slightly slow), in order to not call him Daniel, my name.

“Do they know who did this?” I asked, in a mere whisper. This is not how I imagined my reunion with Jorge would be at all.

“No, they said you were taken from the house...” He swallowed hard. “Attacked and then thrown back on the lawn until a neighbor came out and called the cops.” His face immediately hardened. “I swear to god, if they ever find out who did this, I will hunt them down and kill them.” He snarled, slightly scaring me. Jorge was always the protective one, especially to me. I was his baby brother after all (by only six year).

“Jorge? How long are you planning on staying?” I asked. I know, I might be ruining the only moment I might have with my brother for years, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want Jorge to leave again, I was afraid of what would happen to me if he just left. “Do mom and dad know you’re here?”

He sighed, defeated. All the stress made him look so much older than he actually was.

“Of course they know I’m here, who doesn’t? As soon as I stepped out of the car, cameras were following me. Kris is worried about you too, you know?”

I met Kris once, before Jorge was kicked out. I was ten, so I didn’t know what the word ‘gay’ meant, which could’ve been why Jorge had told me. He made me swear not to tell anyone about Kris and I never did, Jorge ended up telling mom and dad himself, in the hopes that he’d be accepted. Dad never hit Jorge before that day he was kicked out. In fact, dad loved Jorge, almost as much as he hates me. He and Jorge used to do everything together, but dad had his limits and apparently Jorge crossed them, big time. That was the last time I saw Kris face to face, dad forced Jorge out of the house the very next day.

Of course, during our webcam chats, Kris would occasionally show up and wave like a mad man and ramble on and on about his day and about how amazing Jorge is. I like him, Jorge made a good decision and you can just see the love radiating from their eyes when they look at each other, even for a nanosecond.

“Where is Kris anyway? Isn’t he worried about you?” I asked.

“More worried about you at the moment. He saw the news too, but he had to work, so he couldn’t come in. He says to tell you that he’s sorry and that he hopes you’ll get better soon.” He turned away from me, shoved his hands in his pockets and stared into space. I knew this Jorge way too much.

When I was still younger and didn’t understand much, I would see Jorge act like this all the time. When he was fourteen (and I was eight), he would come home from school, close himself off from everything and walk straight into his room, where he would stay all day, until he had to go back to school the next morning. When I’d walk into his room, wondering what my brother was so sad about, he’d just sight, stuff his hands in his pockets and just stare at the wall. I didn’t know what the word ‘depressed’ meant either, until Jorge tried to kill himself.

One of the maids found him in one of the bathroom, an empty bottle of antidepressants lying next to him.

They had to pump out his stomach, but I was just glad that he was okay. That was the day Jorge told me what depression was and how he felt. I was still too young to fully understand.

”But why were you so sad Jorgie?” I’d asked in my small, eight year old voice. ”I thought I made you happy? Aren’t I enough for you, Jorgie?”

“You are little man, but this world is harsh and when you get older, you’ll understand exactly what I’m saying to you. You’re still a little too young, but I promise that when you’re older, I’ll explain it to you again...okay?”

“Okay Jorgie, but you have to pinkie promise or it won’t mean anything.”

I remembered Jorge laughing and wrapping his bigger pinkie around mine, a sign that he understood and would keep his promise.

Unfortunately, now was the time that I understood exactly what he was talking about.