TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains material that is not suitable for some individuals. EXPLICIT CONTENT. Viewer discretion is advised. 

Luke's P.O.V.

        I drifted into consciousness. The liquid taste of iron stained my tongue, my entire mouth. The world was a blur, and random images seemed to float aimlessly around in the pool of my thoughts, as though they were being blown about viciously by a hurricane.

        A body warmer than mine lay close to me. His head lolled onto my shoulder, eyelids finally slipping closed; I died a little on the inside. We were naked. The rest of him slowly leaned into me, the rest of his body going limp. His eyes were closed. I felt myself moving off of the mattress, trying my best not to disturb the stranger. My legs wobbled as I got out of the cheap memory foam. There was so much pain between my legs. As much as I tried to hold it in, the pain came out like an uproar from my throat in the form of a silent scream. I hit the wall and tried to scream, but my voice was melted by the sound of the guy on the mattress stirring in his sleep. His eyelids lifted and there was a seducing smile on his face.

        "Where am I?" My voice was not as strong as it was before. Quiet and child-like. "What the hell did you do to me?"

        "Take a guess," he shifted his body so he was sitting on the edge of the mattress, legs wide open. I could still smell the scent of semen. Semen that he left behind, along with the marks along my chest. 

"I-...You-...," I squeaked. It was hard to talk with a sore throat. I felt disgusting and exposed. I quickly put my hands over my genitals, despite the fact that he had already seen me. 

        "I had sex with you. Big deal. Isn't that your prophecy? You seemed for it last night, but I guess the drugs wore off. I should have known," the man scratched his head. "Well, I'll be back later for round two. Clean yourself up. The bathroom is in the corner of the room." His meaty fingers pointed to a bucket of water. A dirty washcloth was next to it. I merely nodded my head and waited for him to leave. He didn't.

Instead, he moved off of the mattress and closer to me. He was threatening me to leave. His hands were firmly clasped under my chin, a gleeful grin stretched across his face. "If you leave, it will be a lot worse that last night," he chimed. "I go by the name Milo, remember that." He released his hands from around my neck. Then he left the room, locking the door behind him. 

        There is no movement without pain. The bruises are long and thin. There is a cut above my left eye, the blood already brown and dried and my abdomen feels like my guts are on fire. I scream out to the empty room unable to tell if the bones are broken. Without my phone, there is no choice but to move, to at least get out into the open where rescue is possible. 

        Four concrete walls, a poor excuse for a tub, a linoleum floor, a toilet with no paper and a bare mattress. There was trickle light coming from the corner of the prison. From a high window came rectangle of daylight, sending white beams to illuminate the grime and show the dust that swirled in the air. If I could reach it, I would know where I was. 

        Walking toward the window was harder than I had originally thought. My legs were weak and bruised. The pain coming from my ass was too much to bare. I directed my attention to the bucket of water. It was easier to get on top of it to get a better view, so that is exactly what I did. I poured the water onto the floor and crawled back to the window. While flipping the bucket upside down, I noticed how quiet it was. I felt like I was being watched. I felt goosebumps rising on my arms and legs, but I ignored it. I didn't have time for this. 

        By the time I got a good view out the window, the lights had gotten brighter. There were trees on the outside. Trunks gnarled, twisted, massive girth, straight, leaning, branched, smooth, slender, knotted, green with moss, slimy, shaggy, silver, interlacing roots protruding from the soil in great loops and ridges. Sprawling branches, stiff branches, overhanging branches. It was almost beautiful. The bucket was beginning to shake under me. By the time I turn around, I realized I was on the ground. The shock from landing head was like a crushing pain inside my head. I blinked a couple of times, but that didn't really help. There were footsteps outside the door. He was coming back. 

Milo's P.O.V.

        "What are you up to?" I asked. The boy I paid for was lying on the floor. He did not move. I was under the impression that he was dead, but he sat up slowly. With his back to the wall, he stared at me. 

"Were you trying to escape through the window? Too bad, it's been locked for years. There's enough mold on the sill to cause someone to get sick. I paid good money for you, so don't try anything stupid, Atticus." He flinched.

        "That's not my name. My name is Luke, you fucking prick." 

        I walked toward the boy, kicking him in the stomach. "From now on, your name is Atticus. You'll be living by my rules. And I swear to God, if you try to leave, I'll kill you with this."

        I pulled out a black and silver handgun. "It's a Daisy Powerline 5501 Blowback CO2 Air Pistol 177 Caliber BB cable of blowing your pretty face to shreds," I exclaimed, putting it back into my holster. "Now..."

I laid my hands around the boy's neck and squeezed to give him a choke, he was surprised, his eyes became round and his lips parted. His legs moved, panicked, put I was in the zone, climax only minutes away. As my pleasure increased so did my grip, his eyes closed and his head lolled. That's what I wanted, ejaculation was instant. I dismounted and went for a shower when I came back he was laying on the side of the mattress naked and crying. 

        Blood was seeping beneath his skin, ribs fractured. There would be no doctor, no evidence, nothing.