art by:@mkraiyux on twitter
Warnings before reading the story:
If you are uncomfortable with any of the following, please do not read.
⚠️⚠️⚠️
•Alcohol
•Drug Usage
•Kidnapping
•Cursing
•Anxiety/Depression
•Grief
•Blood
•Abusive Themes
⚠️⚠️⚠️
*Edit to clarify that there is NO NSFW/SMUT or any kind of sexual assault in this book despite the mention of roofies and related drugs.*
This story is purely fiction and made for the fun of imagination.
If you're ready to continue:
Italicized letters mean thinking or thoughts.
•
denial (noun): the action of declaring something to be untrue.
•Zak•
"Am I dead?" I wondered out loud, staring into what seemed to be the morning sun peeking in through curtains. I coughed, finding my throat dry and voice hoarse. I couldn't remember what happened beyond going to a party with my friends last night. Vincent has just gotten his visa accepted into the United States, so we were out celebrating.
Looking around the bedroom I was in, I noticed it was unfamiliar. I pressed a hand to my head, rubbing intensely to try and reduce the headache I had.
The last thing I remember was Darryl and Vincent telling me a story. I was drinking a soda, and I started feeling really sick. Dizzy. And then everything was black.
The bedroom door jiggled and a figure stepped in. "Oh, you're awake."
"Darryl?" I croaked, sitting up in the bed. He must have taken me home last night.
"You were pretty drunk at the party, so I brought you here to keep you out of harm," he smiled.
I raised an eyebrow at him. "I never drank any alcohol at that party, though."
His smile faltered. "Oh? You seemed drunk. Maybe you got roofied?" His tone seemed more concerned.
I nodded in reply. "But who would roofie me?"
Darryl shrugged and started to turn around to head back out of the room. "Let me go get you some water."
I took this moment to look around. The bedroom was very tidy and neat. Everything had a proper placement. The organization really seemed to suit Darryl.
Except for the excess amount of rope on his desk.
Before I could get up to investigate, Darryl returned with the water and a bright smile. "Here you go, muffin."
I smiled and thanked him, gladly taking a large swig of the water. When my throat felt normal again, I pointed to the rope. "What's that for, dude," I laughed, "Planning to kidnap someone?"
Darryl laughed too, but it sounded forced. It was off-putting. I shook the thought, betting he was just annoyed at my presence since he probably had to watch over me all night.
"Do you want anything to eat?" Darryl asked, breaking me from my trance.
"No, that's okay. I'll get out of your hair now," I said, standing up to stretch. His eyes followed my body, running across my arms to my chest before he looked me in the eyes again, face flushed a bit.
And then all of a sudden, he looked really nervous. "Wait, what? No, no, I insist! Let me make you some pancakes or something."
My eyebrows raised as I considered the option. "Okay! Sure," I giggled.
Darryl's bright smile returned, making little butterflies flutter in my stomach, and he left to go and cook.
Out of boredom, I went over to his computer to mess around. "Maybe I can log on as him and troll his server!" I giggled to myself deviously, turning the monitor on and booting it up. As I watched the screen, my hand subconsciously searched for the mouse, landing on something sticky. I looked down in confusion, finding a roll of duct tape.
My eyes trailed from the tape to the rope in slight nervousness before laughter filled my belly. "Now Darryl really looks like a kidnapper! What a coincidence!"
I dropped the thought and searched for Minecraft on his desktop, finding him logged out after starting it up. I felt disappointed for a second since I wouldn't be able to go through with my first plan.
"Next best thing: blackmailing him with his browser history," I giggled to myself.
I opened google and snooped through his history tab, but nothing weird or out of the ordinary came up.
Except for the search "flunitrazepam."
Wondering if Darryl had some kind of disease, I clicked the search link.
My eyes scanned through articles, finding unappealing words that made my stomach drop.
Roofie.
Date Rape Drug.
I stood up quickly, closing the tab. Suddenly things started to click in my brain, but I begged it to just be a huge coincidence.
I knew for a fact that I didn't drink at that party. I had to have been drugged at some point.
"Did Darryl drug me?" I thought, eyes flicking to the rope on his desk. "Should I be more worried about this?"
Trying to shake away the uneasy feeling building up in my gut, I stepped out of the room. I had lost motivation to try and troll. I entered the rest of the house to find Darryl humming to himself in the kitchen. He had a pan out for eggs and a flat pancake maker running. When he noticed me, his small smile grew larger and he stopped humming.
"He would never hurt me... right?"
"Oh, hey Zak! I'm almost done!" He chirped, turning back to flip a pancake.
I felt a little lightheaded from nervousness. "A-actually, I'm really not feeling well and I sorta just wanna go home," I avoided eye contact and headed towards the door, "But thank you so much for the help, and I promise I will repay you."
Darryl frowned. "But... I made pancakes!"
I tried to smile, but it must have come off as a grimace based on the expression he made in return. "At least let me drive you home, Zak."
I stood about two feet from the front door debating the idea. It seemed more favorable, and safer, for him to take me home. "Okay," I mumbled with a lopsided smile. He turned off the pancake grill, leaving everything there as it was. It seemed odd, but I wanted to get home as soon as possible, so I didn't look into it too much. His house was giving me creepy vibes.
Quickly, I turned to the front door again and put my hand on the knob, twisting it open.
Fresh air hit my face and I felt my anxieties shrink. I took a deep breath.
"Darryl is my friend. He wouldn't hurt me." My mind reminded.
And then, I felt a sharp pain against the back of my head, and my body hit the floor.
I groaned, trying to sit up, but everything was spinning.
"Hope you enjoyed that fresh air, because it might be a while before you see it again," Darryl mumbled softly from behind me. I felt him pull me further into his house. My fingers clenched the carpeted floor, trying to stop him from pulling me. He stopped for a moment, stepping around my body on the floor. A click came from the front door being closed and locked. I tried to yell at him to stop, but my brain wasn't functioning correctly, and I couldn't control my body anymore. My vision went in and out, my eyes grazing over a frying pan he held in his hands.
"Did he hit me over the head...?" I wondered, brain suddenly hazy. I could think no more, as everything had finally gone black.
•
When I woke up, it was cold and dark, and the air felt damp and dusty. I cleared my throat and coughed. The action made my head spin.
I went to move my hands to my face, but something restricted them. I looked down, trying to adjust my eyes to the darkness so I could see. Just as I was almost able to make out the blotchy figures, a bright light above me flickered on.
My eyes squinted shut again and my head began pounding from the quick environment change. I let out a small groan.
"Oh, Zak! You're awake!" Darryl's sweet voice rang through my ears, giving me the shivers.
"What happened?" I croaked out, keeping my eyes closed. I couldn't remember. It hurt to think.
Darryl was quiet, but I heard his footsteps getting closer to me. I tried to force my eyes open but only managed to make them into small slits.
I was in a concrete room, a basement maybe, sitting in a stiff wooden chair. My arms were stuck somehow—I couldn't see.
Darryl placed his hands against the arms of the chair, right on top of my wrists. They stung as Darryl's hands had added more pressure to them and I winced.
I decided to keep my eyes closed. I felt so tired.
"I'm gonna keep you safe, Zak," Darryl mumbled.
"What do you mean?" I asked. I felt him push off of me and winced again. "My wrists hurt."
It was quiet.
"Are you hungry now? It's been a while since you ate," he finally responded, avoiding my statement. I could hear a friendly smile in his voice, but he still sounded nervous.
I thought for a moment and tried to open my eyes again. With success, I met his and nodded. "Can I have some water too?"
He smiled brightly. "Sure, Zak! I'll be right back."
As he made his way to the wooden staircase leading upwards to where I assume the rest of the house was, I looked down at my wrists, wondering why they stung still. To my disbelief, I saw rope tied around them.
My eyes went wide as I struggled to move my arms, balling my hands into fists in a blind panic. I tried to pull my hands through the rope, but they didn't budge. "What the fuck?" I quietly questioned.
The rope was too tight to move more, and my arms quickly became red from struggling.
"Language, muffin! If you be good I'll loosen the restraints," he cleared his throat, "Now, wait here while I get you something to eat."
And with that, the door shut and I was alone.
I looked down, hoping this was some kind of sick joke.
I found that my feet were free, but decided that wasn't really helpful to my situation.
"Why would Darryl do this?" I wondered. A stinging feeling came in my eyes and knew I was about to cry.
Before I could stop myself, droplets fell onto my cold cheeks silently. I sniffled, shaking in fear of what was to come.
"Will he kill me? No, I must be having some kind of nightmare."
I choked on the tears, and my breath became frantic. Verbal sobs escaped my lips, as I leaned forward, pressing my stomach to my thighs. The position was extremely uncomfortable given I couldn't move my arms, but I didn't care.
I heard the doorknob jiggle and immediately got quiet. I held my breath, studying the falling teardrops as they landed on the floor below.
"Zak? Are you okay?" Darryl asked, stepping towards me.
I didn't move to look at him. Even when he stopped directly in front of me, I continued to stare holes into his shoes.
"Zak..." Slowly, he bent down, setting a plate of food and a water bottle on the ground nearby. He put his hand under my chin and tilted my head up to look at him.
His expression turned to sadness and my tears fell harder. "W-why," I cried.
He pushed me upwards and wrapped his arms around my neck, hugging me.
I couldn't hug back or push away if I wanted to, so I just went limp against his shoulder. The warmth felt comforting and terrifying at the same time.
He pulled away and grabbed my shoulders. "You are going to be okay," he commanded, shaking me slightly.
My head nodded subconsciously.
"You are going to be safe," he added.
I nodded again.
And as I began to zone out while staring into his eyes, I could only think, "This can't be real."