Nowhere to Run

This story, I think, should be considered a gothic thriller. I haven't written actual horror since I was a teenager. But the idea for this story hit me and I started writing. My hopes are that it will leave the reader breathless and wondering what just happened. It'll be a short story with only a few chapters and I hope you'll enjoy the suspense and thrills.

Happy reading, friends...

*

Joshua's life was nowhere near perfect.

That

was an understatement, as far as he was concerned, having run most of the past two of his eighteen years. The worst part of it all was that he couldn't remember

what

he was running from or who. He had no memory of his parents at all, his childhood—up until the past two years, neighbors, friends—he didn't know if he had brothers, sisters...it was all a huge blank in his mind.

But he was running from something,

that

he knew.

Was he a mass murderer? Surely not, with his reflexive tendency to be repulsed by such things. He couldn't even stand to watch an animal suffer in pain, let alone kill it to put it out of its misery. How could he kill a human being? It was out of the question.

His stomach rumbled, which reminded him—again—how hungry he was, as he looked up and focused down the main road outside the little town he'd just went through. It was vacant of houses, buildings of any kind. All he could see for miles were fields and dense forest. The sun had started to disappear in the west and he knew he had to find somewhere to bed down soon, and try to find

something

to eat.

A red mustang, with the top rolled down, went past him. His long brown hair whipped around his face and shoulders along with the sand that was kicked up from the speeding tires of the passers-by. The car was full of young men, possibly in their early twenties. The handsome blonde in the back passenger side seat turned and whistled at Joshua, then stood and grasped his privates in a lewd gesture.

Joshua flipped him off with a disgusted grimace, which made the blonde laugh, turn and sit down in the seat again. Though he gave Joshua a second look, as they sped away, Josh hoped he'd never see them again. He veered off the main road, into the forest to try to find a spot to set up his bedroll for the night.

Just as the sky became blanketed with the dark, deep purple and black of night, he jabbed at the small fire he had made, with a long stick in hand, and realized he didn't recall gathering the wood, stacking it, or starting the fire. His belly felt relieved of the pangs of hunger and couldn't remember what he had eaten.

He shivered, from the chill in the air, and ran long thin fingers through his hair to find he had bathed somehow—where and how, he had no recollection. It was frustrating, at times. Not being able to remember things. He tried to stay as positive as he could, but sometimes his situation wore him down.

He pushed the bedroll out and stretched out onto it. He stared up at the sky for a long time, just admiring the splash of stars that twinkled above him. But it wasn't long before his eyes grew heavy and he drifted off to sleep.

Joshua woke with a start to find himself being dragged from his bedroll. Loud cheers and taunts enveloped him as his clothes were ripped from his body. He fought his attackers while he was held face down. Someone knelt between his thighs, which had been forced open, and shoved his face into the dirt.

A rough, heavy hand was placed in the small of his back. A surge of wild untamed fear came over him and he fought harder with his assaulters. His scream hung in the air when he was penetrated hard and fast—all at once. His body went rigid and trembled with the pain and humiliation of his predicament.

With another hard, deep thrust, the man above him came down on all fours. His heavy breaths pummeled Joshua's face just before the man took hold of the shell of Joshua's ear with his teeth.

"Mmm...you taste sooo good, baby," he laughed, then came up and placed both hands on Josh's bottom, spreading his cheeks wider. "You like that don't you, sweetheart..." he added.

"No! Stop!" Josh answered with a vehement scream.

"Sure you do," the man returned in a weighty tone. "You gave the invitation when you flipped me off."

"No!" Josh yelled loud and long.

Everything slammed him inside—the pain, loud voices yelling obscenities over him, harsh grips at his wrists and legs, the scent of their sex and the earth beneath him. He began to view it all, as if watching a video—detaching from it all as quickly as he could.

A low growl rumbled in his chest, progressing to a loud resounding yell. With sudden added strength, he bucked the man off him. Someone let go of a leg, which he used to kick as hard as he could, dislodging the second person that held his left leg. He jerked his right arm free, tuned and belted the person holding his left. Then he scrambled to his feet and took to a solid run.

"You son of a bitch! You broke my fucking nose!" he heard behind him, but didn't slow down or give it a second thought.

One of the four men picked up a short broken limb nearby and tossed it at the boy's feet. The next Joshua knew he felt something slam hard between his feet and landed face first into the trunk of a pine tree. The world spun and darkness abruptly surrounded him.

Icy cold washed over him and caused him to gasp. Another shower of cold and he jerked, his head flew back with a yelp. The cramp in his lower abdomen became unbearable and alerted him to the fact that his bladder was screaming for relief. Lifting his head slowly, he became aware of being sprayed down with cold water. His arms ached terribly and were wrenched high above his head. Aches and pains slowly made their unwelcome acquaintance.

With a direct spray to the face, Joshua came to full consciousness. He shook his head wildly, trying to avoid getting the water up his nose. But, try as he might, it still flooded his nasal passages and forced him to cough violently.

He felt warmth shower his legs and relief of the ache of his bladder. The water was then directed to his lower body and washed it away.

"Little bitch! Can't even hold your water! Look at the little baby wet himself!" an angry voice barked at him from across the room. "You thought you could just up and leave? We weren't finished with you, yet!"

Josh opened his eyes and saw the wood floor beneath his feet. A drain hole with a grated cap was positioned not far away. He looked up and around to find himself hanging from the thick beam of a rafter of a wooden building. The rope tied to his wrists was tight and had already left angry welts and cuts. His fingers had turned blue giving him to know he'd hung there for quite some time.

It was a large room, equipped with a desk, bed and a small table. Other than that, there was nothing significant—not even a window to allow for some sunlight.

His eyes fell on the menacing fellow across the room, showering him with the icy cold water. His shag of dark hair fell into his eyes, over his ears and around his head as if it hadn't been combed through in days. Thick bushy eyebrows framed his deep blue eyes that expressed the malice and contempt in their stare. A cruel smirk lifted one corner of his thin lips. He was tall and of medium build, wearing a pair of tight black jeans and a leather vest that was open and allowed Joshua to see a thick patch of hair on the man's chest.

"Turn around, whelp!" he barked at Josh gruffly.

It was then, Josh realized his feet were on the floor and stood on them. He turned his back to the man obediently and gasped as the water pummeled his body...cold...stinging him from the pressure of the spray.

"Hmm...nice round little ass, kid," the man commented a bit more amiably.

Josh then noticed that the other three men that had been in the red mustang sat at a larger table a good distance away and near a set of steps that led up to a small door. He knew then, he had to be in a basement or cellar of some sort.

The blond that was sitting on the nearest edge of the table puckered his lips at Josh, then smiled broadly. His hair was mussed and fell over his shoulders and part way of his back. The eyes were hazel and expressed pleasure in seeing Josh so vulnerable and exposed. His lips were full and an almost cherry red. He was thin, but had some definition to his form that was clothed in jeans and a pullover shirt. He lifted a bottled beer to those lips and drank deeply, his eyes never faltering in his stare of Josh.

The others were ignoring the scene, which Josh was actually thankful for. At least, for the moment, they didn't have any interest in him.