//Marc's point of view//
/////TW: this chapter is going to get into some dark subjects, so if kidnapping/sexual assault/suicidal thoughts and stuff along those lines bother you, please skip over this chapter./////
i don't know how many days its been i've been here anymore, i lost count around a month ago when every electronic was taken out of the house. when i was locked in a room, where i have no control over what i get to eat or say or do. Last time me and Jake were together it was bad, but nothing close to this. i think he's gone past abusive and has swam into psychotic territory.
I used to be hit, used to be gaslighted, but now i'm locked in a room with no windows like some sort of aggressive dog the family doesn't want anymore. Jacob bought a taser, so even if i'd like to leave i can't. If i talk back to him, or make escape attempts i get tied to a chair for a full day. to "learn my lesson" he says. He doesn't have a job. i dont know how he's making money to keep the house but now he's home, with me, every single second. Sometimes when i get bored i fantasize about the ways he'll hopefully kill me, because death would be better than this.
Some days, i'm not allowed to feed myself because Jacob decides he'd like it better if my hands were tied up when he was close to me. Some days i don't get to decide if i'm okay with sex or not. Sometimes he'll leave for a day, but leave me tied up, and i wont get any water or food.
Most days i wish he'd leave the rope in the room so i could hang myself.
Jacob comes into my room, and he ties my hands behind me and he sets a chair in front of me. he lets out a long sigh that radiates some sort of shame somehow.
"Marc... I know what i'm doing isn't right. I know this is beyond what i should've gotten into." his words give me some sort of hope into manipulating him to let me go. "but-" my hope suddenly shatters onto the floor, standing with sweaty clothes and cigarette boxes with five day old used condoms. "but you know i cant let you go right?" i cant look up at him. i stare at the floor even though every bit of dirt on the floor stares back at me, mocking me for how filthy and disgusting i am. "if i let you go, you'll tell somebody. i'm not going to prison for this. You're too pathetic to spend time over. I'd rather spend my time in prison over kidnapping somebody with nicer facial features, somebody who wont argue with me and eventually fall to think that its their idea to stay." i've never seen this side of him. i've never known he was such a fucking sick and twisted piece of shit. i begin to wonder who id rather kill most, myself or him.
"you wont get away with it." my throat feels like i've swallowed cement, and my words spill out scratchy and muffled.
"then what am i doing right now, Marcus? and why do you always have such attitude with me. you should be fucking thankful. I'm giving you attention while your pussy twink boyfriend is away. You'd be lonely without me, Marcus. you'd be a spiraling alcoholic. A fucking wreck, Marc, is what you'd be. but you're here, safe and sober."
"is safe and sober really better than an alcoholic if i've been the subject of amber alert texts for the past few months?"
"at least you're not dead in a ditch."
"i'd rather be there." i get a hard smack to the face, but it doesn't phase me anymore. I almost prefer it to everything else he does to me. "Can i at least have a cigarette. its been forever since i've had one." Jacob rolls his eyes at me and leaves the room to grab cigarettes and a lighter. he comes back but locks the door, unties me and lets me see that he has his taser in open sight. this time he's got a pistol too, in case i feel bold. Real smooth, Jake. he hands me the pack and the lighter, and voluntarily building up cancer in my body feels blissful right now. i chain smoke almost the entire pack before Jacob decides to get up and leave, locking the door from the three extra locks outside of the room.
"I have to go run errands. I'm securing the door more, since you wanted to try and break the door frame last time. Behave yourself Marc. I'll know if you've done anything."
i hear the front door click, and i realize i can finally put my plan into action.
YOU ARE READING
Pretty Boy.Teen Fiction
Taylor weighs a whopping 98 pounds, and in his mind he weights over 300 all thanks to a comment a few boys made in the locker room. He goes through sweat, blood, and tears just to become the pretty boy society expects him to be.