“How did you learn that?” he asks.
“My cousins and I played a very realistic version of cops and robbers when we were kids. It was either learn to get free when captured or lose, and none of us like losing.”
“You and your cousins zip-tied each other while you played games?” he asks incredulously.
“Not just zip-tied each other.” I get up and knee-walk back to the wall. “We also used handcuffs, duct tape, rope, belts, shoelaces, basically whatever we could get our hands on. One time, my cousin braided a bunch of bendy branches from a weeping willow and used that to hogtie his twin brother. And just because he could, he made a crown out of wild daisies and put that on his brother’s head while he was trying to get free. That was an entertaining afternoon.”
“You know none of that is normal, right?”
I huff out a laugh. “I’m well aware, and we’ve never claimed to be normal. How are your hands?” I ask as he settles beside me again. “Do they feel okay now?”
He’s pressed up against me now, and I lean even closer to him, soaking up his body heat and using his solid presence to keep grounded.
I know how to keep my head in emergencies, but not being able to see anything is fucking with me more than I want to admit, and my own imagination is starting to conjure up all sorts of things that could potentially be in here with us.
“They’re okay. Getting the zip tie off hurt more than having it on, but I’ll take not having my hands bound over some extra bruises any day.”
“Yeah, that’s the trade-off with that method. There are easier ways to do it, but they all need some sort of tool to work.”
We fall silent again, and a strange feeling of fatigue falls over me. I’m not tired, not really, but I feel drained. Like I’m running on fumes. I don’t know if it’s leftover from whatever I wasdrugged with, or if it’s just a stress response from the situation, but I can already feel my body shutting down.
4
DAMON
I leanmy head back against the wall behind me and close my eyes as I’m hit with a wave of exhaustion that’s so strong I can almost feel the last of my energy draining out of me like water spilling out of a toppled glass.
“I feel weird,” I mumble as my entire body grows heavy and my thoughts slow down.
“Yeah, same.” He blows out a long breath.
“I don’t want to fall asleep.”
“Me either, but it’s probably the only way we’ll get whatever they drugged us with out of our systems.”
I don’t tell him that the reason I’m scared to go to sleep is that I’m terrified I’ll wake up alone and realize all of this was just some sort of drug-induced hallucination.
I wasn’t being hyperbolic when I told him what happened when I woke up before him and thought I was alone in here. I really did all those things, and I was on the verge of a full breakdown when I heard him stirring.
I also don’t tell him that my stupid imagination thought he was some sort of monster when he started groaning. Even when I realized he was a person, the only reason I didn’t freak the fuckout was because of how calm he stayed, and how quickly he was able to piece together what happened to us.
I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that I was abducted at all, but what’s really bending my noodle is that Xave is here with me. It’s wild enough we were at the same rave, but what are the odds of us being drugged and abducted together?
I bite back a snort-laugh. The odds of that are probably about the same as they are for us hooking up at the rave, especially since Xave still has no idea who I am.
Little flashes of what I think are memories flicker through my mind. A big, solid body. Strong hands and warm skin. The taste of salt and musk on my tongue, and quiet encouragement in the form of a low, rumbling voice.
I don’t remember much of what went down in the smash room, or how we ended up there in the first place, but I’m almost positive I was the instigator.
Guilt and unease twist in my gut. Hooking up anonymously isn’t the problem. Xave went into that room not knowing who I am, but hiding the truth now that we’re trapped together feels wrong.
And if we ever get out of here, or even if someone comes in and turns on the lights, he’s going to see me. We might not be friends or even casual acquaintances, but we’ve been in each other’s orbits for long enough that he’ll recognize me on sight. Especially since I have a pretty unique look compared to most of the student body at Silvercrest.
More guilt churns in my gut and mixes with the exhaustion still hanging over me from whatever the fuck they drugged us with. The longer I keep the truth hidden, the harder and more awkward it’ll be when I do tell him who I am. And considering he’s the only reason I’m not clawing at the walls amid a full mental breakdown, waiting until he potentially sees me instead of telling him before that happens feels wrong.
“So, I have a confession to make,” I say, my words coming out stilted.
Is he going to be pissed? Xave has a reputation around school for being volatile and unhinged, the same as his cousins. Is he so chill right now because he thinks I’m a stranger he’ll never see again? Is he going to freak out that he let me suck his dick once he knows I’m me?
