Page 71 of Left In The Dark

His fingers were soft and I preferred them to the towel. If he’d kept his gloves on, I would never have known what they felt like and would never have thought I was missing something whenever he touched me with them covered.

I close my eyes, kicking my leg forward, and my hand falls between my legs, tugging at my erection. My balls ache and I let out a frustrated groan. I drop the pencil and yank down my underwear, letting my cock spring free. Precum drips over my stomach and I stroke my base, tossing my head back, trying not to let my mind go to him. It goes to Logan instead, and those deep brown eyes of his. They oddly reminded me of T’s but they were a different color.

Suddenly my thoughts shift over to my kidnapper. The way he licks his lips between eating and how I could almost hear his growling voice beneath the voice changer when he said hmmm. I realize what I’m doing and drop my hand. My cock head is swollen and purple. I slam a fist to the mattress and pull up my underwear, curling up on my side.

What is happening to me? Why did I wish he was touching me instead of my own hand? Why are thoughts of him overpowering the ones I have of Logan? I close my eyes, rocking my body until I lull myself into a deep sleep.

I shoot up, opening my eyes and gripping onto my blanket when the chain outside starts shaking against the metal lock. I hold my breath, feeling like forever passes before I let it go. The door opens and I stay where I am, waiting for him to come to me. The ladder shakes and the string moves as it’s being tugged on. A bucket lifts into the air and hangs. As I’m crawling to it, his footsteps grow farther and farther away. Before I can reach the ladder, the doors slam shut and my heart sinks.

I look in the bucket and there’s a container of macaroni and baked chicken inside. Underneath it is a pack of baby wipes and a traveling kit with toothpaste. There’s a small toothbrush inside, along with a small bottle of lotion and vanilla chapstick.

He’s still giving me what I need to survive and yet it isn’t enough. He’s giving me everything I require to stay alive, and here I am still fading to nothing. Is he letting me go soon? Has he given up on me like everyone else? Has he realized what my dad has, that I’m useless and incapable of being anyone worth putting time into?

It could mean he’ll let me go, then. It could mean my freedom. And it could mean going back home to be a different kind of prisoner. My dad will be waiting and expecting me to go right back to work while telling me how all this was my fault. Will Logan be waiting too? I’m a fool to think he would. I’m a fool to think so. He hates me, and T must hate me too. I know one thing for certain, I hate myself.

Twenty-Two

Logan

I pace in front of the barn, looking at the doors. He was sleeping the last time I looked at the camera. He was squirming a lot and his face was distorted. Was he having a bad dream?

This is part of it. He needs to see how bad things can be when I’m not with him. He needs to really need me, and he hasn’t shown me that he does yet. Yes, he keeps looking at the door and going hours without moving from the bed. He hasn’t tried to read on his own either, and won’t use any of the toiletries I brought him. But it’s not enough.

I’m waiting for him to fall apart more. To scream and cry more. I need . . . I just need fucking more.

My phone buzzes as I’m about to touch the lock, and when I look at the screen, Jimmy’s name pops up.

Jimmy: Hey, Logan. Want to come bowling with us later?

I start typing and stop before typing again.

Me: I dunno. I just got home and I’m beat.

Jimmy: Take a nap. We ain’t going until 10.

Me: That’s late. I gotta get up early in the morning, and I’m seriously dragging right now.

Jimmy: Let me get this straight, my best friend comes back to town after being gone for like three years and he still can’t make it out to see his friends?

Me: I’ll see you guys this weekend.

Jimmy: How about dinner tomorrow?

I sigh, rubbing the back of my head.

Me: Your house or mine?

Jimmy: Neither. I’m taking you to that new Italian joint that just opened up. It’s on me.

Me: We celebrating something?

Jimmy: Yeah. Two things actually. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.

I roll my eyes, writing him back with pounding fingers.

Me: Is this my punishment for not going with y’all tonight?

Jimmy: Maybe.