Bopping to the beats pulsing out of her phone as it perched on the counter by the sink, she spun and wiggled around the kitchen as she cleaned, bare feet slapping lightly on the tiles. Warm late-afternoon light spilled in through the open front windows, an orange hue beginning to overtake the yellow.
The movement beyond the gate was hardly noticeable through the slats in the fence, but her rhythmic swaying slowed, then stopped, as she tried to pinpoint the origin of the slight disturbance. A sound of closing car doors? The tall wooden gate abruptly swung open, revealing a large, stern-faced man, wearing clothes that made him look gym bound. Light sweatpants and hooded sweatshirt, mostly unzipped to a plain light shirt beneath, none yet stained from exertion. He moved into the yard as the gate opened, making way for the little bald man in his wake.
Click. The latch of the swiftly closing gate behind them. Two pairs of eyes suddenly met her gaze through the window, nearly knocking her back with their predatory intensity. They lurched onward toward the front door as a rush of adrenaline washed through her nervous system accompanying the realization that they were not, in fact, lost neighbors or some other innocuous thing. She scramble/ran the two steps from the tiny kitchen to the hall which led left, to the front door, or right, to the bedroom with a window leading to the backyard.
Awkwardly throwing herself to the right, she hurried into the bedroom, trampolined by the untidy bed to the window. The bang of the front door slamming open somehow seemed simultaneous with the arms that grabbed her and flung her backward just as her fingers touched the latch.
A confusing cacophony of sensations bombarded her heightened alertness. The world spun momentarily as she bounced back onto the mound of blankets and sheets, her mind trying to understand the violent clattering of the blinds she'd been ripped away from mixed with the deriding faux laughter of the bald man behind her.
"You sure that's her?" The large man was now between her and the window.
She struggled to free her limbs from the blankets and shove her light brown hair from her face. Again her eyes met with the intense gaze of the looming larger man.
"Yeah, man. Just look at her tattoos." Even in the dimly lit room, the intricate lines that made up the artwork on her flesh were visible. Vining roses with thorns nearly covered her right forearm, and the left had an intricate spider web with tattered edges, a small brown spider dotting the vein in the middle of the wrist. Her oversized t-shirt and panties were worn for comfort, not modesty, and they hid little of her apparently identifiable markings now as she regained her bearings and pushed herself up tentatively.
"Great," the gym-clad man said matter of factly, breaking his gaze to grab her legs, his huge hands easily encircling her calves. He effortlessly yanked her toward him, her sheer black panties hiking up and midriff suddenly exposed.
"Ho damn!" the smaller man excitedly squealed.
A flustered stream of "no no no no no no" was all her panicked mind could stutter out, which was as useful as the flutter of her hands to free her legs from the larger man's powerful grip. Pulling her off the bed, he expertly maneuvered her into a locked position pinned against his body. His arms were like a net, tightening each time she moved. With her arms trapped across her chest, she fought to catch her breath, blood screaming in her ears, even as the chest she was held against was stoically calm and still.
"Yup, that's his girlfriend." She suddenly remembered the smaller man. He had approached her group of friends recently at a club and offered to sell them drugs. He had been oddly pushy but backed off when he got the hard pass. Now he was standing there in her bedroom in that same stupid purple satin jacket that seemed to accentuate the sleekness of his bald head, catching the intermittent light shining past the swinging blinds.
The terror that these were people specifically here to get specifically her was beginning to take root, and the world spun again as her stomach fell through her feet. Finally able to take a half breath, she choked out a "Help." The larger man — was he a bouncer from the club? — huffed in minor annoyance as he shifted his weight to restrain her with one arm, freeing the other to clap a hand over her mouth.
"Wait, wait, wait," the pusher stopped wringing his hands and staring at the bottom hem of their prey's t-shirt momentarily. The hand over her mouth pressed her head back into the broad man's chest. She strained to see the smaller man gesture toward the bed with a jerk of the chin. A pleading smile lit up his face.
"What the — fuck you," her captor retorted.
"Come on!" The pusher slid sideways to block their exit. "You remember what he said. 'Unharmed.'" Another step. "Look at it from my perspective." He gestured at himself. His tone was the familiar insistent desperation from the club, but worse. "And look at her!" He threw up his hands in dramatic fashion and spun around. "Maybe you don't get it. You're this big fuckin' guy." In that moment she realized that, although she'd been thinking of him as small, he was still larger than her. "I just... Look, I'm not gonna hurt her." That same nauseating tone.
After a moment of silence. "Hm..."
The little guy whipped back around, eyebrow arched severely to match the pull of his smirk, more surprised than anyone that he was seemingly being considered.
"Remember everything he said." With that, she was thrown back at the bed.
"Fuck yeah!" The pusher clapped his hands and went for a high five. Mr. Gym looked at him with disgust and crossed his arms.
"If you're gonna do something, do it," he said as he jerked his head toward the window that their diminutive quarry had already made a break for.
"Oh come on now!" the smaller man chided, lunging onto the bed and grabbing her ankle. "Where do you even think you can go? I mean —" She spun around as he yanked her toward him and, using her free leg, kicked him right in his smug face. "Fucking bitch!" he whined, recoiling slightly but tightening his hold on her other leg as she frantically tried to wrench free, Mr. Gym chuckling in the background.
"Fuck you, man! She didn't fight you like this," he said, dragging her under him, then struggling to secure her wrists as she twisted and pulled, breaking his grip several times.
"Yeah. It's almost like I know what I'm doing."
Arms finally pinned over her head with his left hand, he leaned back slightly. Just in time to avoid a weak attempt at a head butt. He shook his head. "Why you gotta be so mean to me?" His lip curled as he pressed his groin against her pelvis and roughly grabbed her hip, the smell of pharmacy-brand cologne and stale sweat assailing her nose.
As he ground into her, she could feel the seam of his jeans through the thin fabric of her underwear. Her heels slipped against the top sheet as she kicked and bucked, trying to create space. He leaned forward, chest to chest, brusquely shoving his hand under her shirt, mashing her breast so violently it knocked the air from her lungs in a pained yelp. "Wanna dance?" An echo in her mind. He asked that at the club. The fingers on her breast zeroed in on her nipple, pinching her painfully.
She barely realized she'd screamed out, but she heard a roll of duct tape stretch in the background. "This will keep her quiet. Get off her."
"What?!" Her frantic bucking resumed in a short-lived wrestle for control before Mr. Gym came up and pushed the smaller man aside. Muscles already becoming clumsy with exhaustion, she pushed herself slightly back on the bed, toward the window. Tape in hand, the large man paused, eyebrow raised disbelievingly at her futile attempts. A little shrug. Then he firmly pressed the tape against her mouth. Before she could claw at the edges, he deftly took her wrists in one hand and reached for the roll of tape.
"What the fuck? I barely grabbed one titty. I am *not* done!" It sure sounded like he actually stomped his foot in petulant frustration.
"Look, she screamed twice." His voice raised slightly to be heard over the screech of the tape as he wound it around her wrists. "You did what you need to do. She's scared." He pulled her to her feet and started walking her to the door.
Bouncing around him like a flea, the pusher pointed and snapped, "Uh, you clearly don't know what I need."
"You need to get her in the car."
"You're a fucking asshole!"
They were out the door and through the gate in a few long strides. Unable to keep up, she was partly dragged to the car, her toes scraping on the gravel. A dark SUV sat in her driveway. She was spun around and pulled into the backseat as the large man entered the vehicle.
Car doors closed. He lay her bound form out next to him and tossed a blanket over her. Hands bound together over her stomach, she felt the meaty weight of his large paw settling over her, securing her in place for the ride. The engine started, and they drove in silence for a period of time she couldn't begin to estimate.
The vehicle came to a final stop, the engine clicking off and an excited, singsongy exclamation from the driver's seat. "We're here!" The briefest glimpse of an underground parking lot was visible as the larger man replaced the blanket with a far more ominous black bag over her head.
"Unharmed" ran over and over in her head. Who would send goons who had to be specifically told not to hurt her? Because of her boyfriend? He was just a security guard at an office building.
Stepping out of the car onto cool, smooth concrete electrified the tiny cuts and nicks on her feet from the driveway. They throbbed, making her wonder about that "unharmed" clause in whatever the fuck was going on.
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"Boys! Your message said you had good news? Cause I could sure use some," a voice erupted from another nearby room. She straightened as much as she could in her new restraints. No longer held together, her arms were now separately taped to something above, holding her in an uncomfortable Y position, her feet barely touching the ground.
