Distorted

The next time I opened my eyes, I thought I was blind. The bed I lay on creaked as I moved, and there was a smell of decay. My nose twitched and I felt my stomach turn. I wanted to throw up from the stench, but before I made any sort of decision, the door on the other side of the room opened, then closed. Footsteps came closer to me, and then stopped.

The first words out my mouth were, "What the fuck is that smell?"

The mattress sank as the stranger sat down. Then they chuckled. It was definitely a male.

"You're worried about the smell and not whether you'll live long enough to see the sunrise?"

"How long have I been here?" I demanded.

"Not long," he said. "I'm still deciding what to do with you as it stands."

"But you just said you were going to kill me," I muttered angrily. I didn't want to die. But I wanted this fucker to make up his mind.

"I did not say that."

He moved slowly, and his hand touched my neck, his fingers curling around my windpipe. He didn't press, just tested, but I didn't move a muscle. Then he leaned forward and his lips touched mine. It was only for a few seconds, but it was enough for me to not lose myself.

"Why did you do that?" I asked, my voice calm, though inside I was terrified.

"Because you wanted me to do it."

"How do you know that?" I said, sitting up slightly. I hated that I couldn't see his face. I wanted to know who I was talking to. Who knew this one particular secret about me. "Who are you?" I hissed.

"Don't worry," he whispered. His hands were on either side of my body now, and he was on his knees in front of me. Again, he pressed his mouth to mine and I could taste something salty on his tongue. When he pulled away, I let out a slow breath. "You'll find out soon enough, Jared."

With that, he stood up and left the room, leaving me to do nothing but stare into the darkness.



I must have fallen asleep, because when I opened my eyes again, I could see the window and the sunlight streaming through it. The rotten smell from before was gone, replaced by a fresh scent, and I could now see that the room I was in looked very much like a teenager's; there were posters plastered to the walls, a computer in the far corner, and clothes thrown on the floor.

"Are you comfortable?" asked a voice.

I looked up into a part of deep blue eyes, almost sapphire, a crooked smile and dark hair. I blinked, trying to get my brain to work right, to remember that this guy, though handsome, was a kidnapper and possible killer.

"I'm sorry about my rudeness last night. I'm having a hard time sleeping, you see, and I've been a little on edge."

He sat down next to me and I could see that he was wearing a pair of ratty jeans and a band shirt. He wasn't facing me so I couldn't see the name on the shirt, not that it mattered.

"You're still wondering what you're doing here, aren't you?" he asked, turning his head. He was smirking at me.

"No, I thought I'd just ignore the fact that I was fucking kidnapped." I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, don't do that. I'm not going to hurt you."

He moved closer to me, his arm brushed mine. I wanted to get away from him, badly, but my body wouldn't let me. In the back of my mind, I wanted to know how he knew something so personal about me, when no one else knew. I didn't really advertise my being gay, so I didn't know how he figured it out.

"Stop," I said, glaring at him.

A smile tugged at the boy's lips before he lifted his hand and wrapped his fingers in my hair. "No," he said, his voice thick with sudden anger. "I won't. That's not what you want."

What I wanted was something I was sure he wouldn't give me anytime soon. I didn't want to be on the outside anymore.