HARRY'S POV:
I woke up on a metal table, under a bright light. No one was around. I immediately knew where I was and tried to get up. Silly me. I should have known they'd have that covered. I was strapped down. Leather straps on my wrists and ankles. Brilliant.
I layed there for who knows how long. An hour? Two hours? All I could do was lay there. Not being able to itch itches. Not being able to wipe my mouth when it felt wet and drooly. Not being able to PEE, dammit. Let alone poop. I don't even remember the last time I did that. Maybe in my sleep? When they said we were asleep for days? Who knows. What WERE we supposed to do when we had to go? Bang on the door like crazy like Jenna did? If they're gonna hold us hostage, at least they could give us at least a CLUE about sh.it like this? Jesus. Are they even HUMAN?
I'm a celebrity. Surely there must be tons of police and FBI searching for me by now, right? I must be all over the news....
I felt so HELPLESS. In every possible way a human could feel helpless.
And hopeless. I had missed shows I was supposed to do. I had missed radio. Parties. People who needed my time for one thing or another....I missed singing. I missed my guitar. I missed music. I missed my mom. My dad. My sister. My friends. My music people. I missed fame.
Even Jenna doesn't even know who I am! I never got the chance to tell her! Not that she'd know who I was even then...I'm not THAT famous in the States yet... But still....
Do I tell her who I am? Who exactly she saved the other night? Or would that make her do even "more" to save me next time something goes wrong? Maybe I shouldn't mention it. I don't know. Doesn't really matter anyway. I'll see what happens. If I ever get out of these fvcking shackles. These dudes are sick. Why do they have a table with shackles? What do they plan to do to us?
A feeling of horrible dread came over me when I inagined lab experiments, knives, saws, Jenna.....
I layed here for ever, it seemed....
Dammit I have to pee!
Wow. Peeing is what got me into this ENTIRE nightmare in the first place! Go figure.
I wish I never had to pee that night. I wish I could go right back to the very last moment that life had been NORMAL, and make a different decision. And right now I'd be hanging with friends or being with Sam....
BUT...I never would have met JENNA......
Sh.it! JENNA!!!
What had they done to her by now?? Oh God.
JENNA'S POV:
I cried and sobbed until I literally fell asleep. Right there, in a ball, in front of the door.
When I woke up, I looked around at the empty room, and decided to wait to "make my payment" on the bed. The floor was cold.
I had just layed down, and cozied up in the bloody sheet, when the door slid opened.
Marcus came through.
Oh God. Here we go.
I immediately started shaking.
He walked over to me and grabbed my arm and lifted me up with one hand. Ouch. That wasn't fun, thank you.
He said "ya gotta use the bathroom?"
As soon as he said that, I was almost peeing myself. I hadn't even realized I hadn't been to the bathroom in....how long? They must have had bed pans under us when we were asleep or something.
Because hasn't it been days?
I shook my head yes to Marcus, without looking at him.
He led me by the arm down the hall.
I tried to look everywhere as we walked. Get a lay of the place. See anything that could help us.
And too soon, I was in a brick bathroom, with a pull chain shower in one corner, and a small toilet with no back in the other corner, with a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling.
No door, either.
Marcus stood outside the door, with his back facing me, and I didn't care. I peed. Boy did I pee.
After I was done in the bathroom, I asked where to wash my hands.
Marcus said the shower.
I noticed a bar of soap hanging on a holder attatched to the pipe that held the shower knobs.
I pulled the chain and the shower sprayed wider than I thought it would, causing me to yell out and jump back. Too late. I was already soaked.
I tried it again, used the soap, even did my face, which felt great. And rinsed off.
I turned and Marcus was standing facing me in the doorway now. How long had he been watching me? Sheesh. Nosy.
He was looking at me like I was a turkey dinner. Great.
I looked down, and realized I was one huge wet tee shirt contest. The white cottony undies went clear. And so did the white tank top. AWESOME.
And to make it worse, it was cold in there.
Gee...stare at me some more, you disgusting fvcking PIG.
I walked up to him and stood there looking down. I still wouldn't look him in the eye.
He grabbed my arm and I thought he'd lead me out of the room, but no. He pushed me by the arm, right back into the bathroom. Shocked, I tripped and stumbled and caught myself with my hands, that now USED to be clean. What the fvck? I looked up at him as he pulled me back up.
Warning: Not so pleasant scene ahead, if you prefer to skim through or skip it, look for the next bold type, that will be the end of it:
He grabbed my other arm, and spun me around with my back facing him. He shoved me to the wall, and pulled down my wet underwear. They layed in a wet ball at my ankles. He held both of my arms behind my back with just one of his hands around my wrists. They were huge hands. He was huge. Just like Vince.
His other hand, he put under my shirt, and to the front to feel me up. He was so rough. His skin, I mean. It was like a lizard or a cat tongue or something. And he wasn't exactly gentle with me either.
I wanted to scream. But I had a horrible thought that becaue no one would help me, they might ALL get involved in what was happening to me. So I just sealed my lips and stiffened up as much as I could, and closed my eyes and hoped for the best. But knowing to expect the worst.
Finally he let go of my chest, and I could hear him struggle with his zipper and snap with one hand.
But he managed. Oh my God. I was going to be ra.ped right now. I couldn't even comprehend it.
He switched my arms to both in front, still trapped by one of his hands around my wrists. He then stepped away from the wall and pulled me away from it, and pushed me by my head to lean down forward with his other hand.
He got himself into position behind me and pushed into me with plenty of struggle as I wasn't at all "in the mood" for this. Once he broke in, despite my best squeezing efforts, he let one hand go, and grabbed it with his other hand, positioned his hands around my upper arms, pulling them back and upa little bit behind me, and held me in front of him while pushing me forward and pulling me back as quickly as he felt like going, using my arms as handles.
And he felt like going for a while, apparently. Qucikly, then slowly. Quickly, then slowly. He kept alternating, until finally his breathing got really heavy and he grunted and pushed in really hard and stayed there for a minute, while he grunted little grunts. That last thrust hurt bad.
I could feel the liquid spill into me. I cringed, and instantly felt nauseous again.
I had been crying silently the entire time. Because I would NOT give him the scene he probably wanted. I would not give him the "poor girl struggling" act.
I was as boring as I possibly could be. I hope he was disappointed. I also hoped he would die.
He pulled out of me finally, and zipped himself up. Pointed to my panties and told me "get dressed who.re".
Ok, it's safe to read now...even though I gave warnings at the beginning of the story, my first reader of my other story said she LOVES my stories but wished I'd warn her so she could skip the se.x. So I thought I'd be nice and warn first! Some of you like the sm.ut, some don't. I get it.
Anyway, back to the safe part of the story:
I asked if I could take an actual shower now, and he said "Suit yourself. But I'll be watching. Might get me all ready and worked up again."
So I told him forget it. And I walked towards him in my wet, dirty from the floor undies, and see through tank top. And he took me by the arm and led me the right way this time.
He barely opened the door, and pushed me through, and slammed it shut.
I sat on the floor, and just stared straight ahead. Too shocked. Too violated. Too mentally hysterical to move. I simply sat. And sat. In my soaked, dirty clothes. And tried to arrange what just happened, in my mind, to make it ok, so I wouldn't lose my mind.
And then, I thought of Harry....