He woke up to see himself tied up, his hands and feet. He pulled against the ropes, they were too tight. He looked around the brightly lit room. It was someone’s bedroom, a male and recently used noticeable by the unmade bed and the clothes strewn around. He sighed, laying his head back on the floor.
He should never have agreed to hang out with Jack. He had agreed mainly because he didn’t want to be tempted to go over to Joan’s house and not explicitly because of Jamal. He had made the decision to limit his frequent visits to her house, the night before, because of his haywire feelings. Those feelings were dangerous.
As much as he detested them, he liked them… loved them because it was for the perfect person he had always imagined spending the rest of his life with. But it was all wrong; wrong time, wrong circumstances, wrong everything. It would never work out.
He knew that and he accepted it and he decided to place measures to contain himself. Those measures had gotten him in trouble.
It seemed like everytime he tried to detach himself from her he always ended up in one trouble or another and then he would go running back to her, Joan. He had tried once before.
The sound of the door opening snapped him out of his thoughts and he fixed his eyes on the door, waiting for whomever to come in. It was the blonde.
“How long do you plan on keeping me here?” he spoke out once the door clicked shut. The blonde looked to his direction, clearly startled.
“Oh… you’re awake.” The blonde said after staring at him blankly for some seconds.
“How long do you plan on keeping me here?” he repeated.
The blonde’s lips curled up, “You have been here two already.”
His eyes popped out.
“What!” he shouted, making to get up but falling abruptly back on his side.
“Its Saturday.” The blonde added to antagonize him further.
“Chill boy.” The blonde laughed seeing his misery, surprisingly sincere, “You were out all through. My man didn’t mean to knock you out. You'll get out today.”
It was then the slight pain at the back of his head registered. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the blonde who stared down at him.
“If you didn’t mean to knock me out then why did you kidnap me and tie me up?”
“Because we have no information about you, not parents, not siblings, not friends, just a boy who lives with you… and abuses you.”
King’s eyebrows shot up.
“So we decided to keep you here till you wake. And the ropes, so you don’t escape without us knowing.”
“You researched about me?”
The blonde chuckled, “Do you think your coming here was a coincidence?”
“Don’t worry” the blonde added, seeing his confused state, “You’re in safe hands.”
He snorted, becoming even more suspicious.
“Safe? You almost choked me with alcohol and now you kidnap and tie me up plus you stalked me and lured me here. Why?”
The blonde shrugged, tying his hair back with a band.
“Believe what you want to believe.”
“Why?”
“That’s for us to know and for you to wonder.”
He opened his mouth then shut it.
“The name's Andrew.” The blonde spoke as he turned away throwing a quick glance at him.
King watched him throw clothes from his bed to the floor. Joan would give him a hard knock if she could at the act, he thought amusedly.
“So Andrew…” he called, “You said I could get out today. I'll like to be free now.” Raising his hands for emphasis.
“Oh.” Andrew facepalmed then straightened up before coming to him.
He watched as he brought out a knife from his pocket, a pocket knife, and then began to severe the rope tied around his hands.
The tension in the air thickened as the seconds ticked by and it grew even more when his hands came loose. He stretched and flexed his arms and fingers as Andrew began on his legs.
“Thank you.” He said when the ropes came loose. He stood up with Andrew, kicking his legs out to enable flow of blood.
“You...”
His forehead connected with that of Andrew’s and then he fled, out Andrew’s room, across the passage and down the stairs. He came to an abrupt stop.
“And the cat came running.”
The occupants of the room broke up in laughter, loud unrepressed mocking laughter. They were all present, all remaining six of them.
“Man you sure do hit hard.”
He heard Andrew’s voice and seeing him coming down the stairs, massaging his forehead upon looking behind. He rubbed his now sweaty palms against his pants, swallowing.
“He hit you!?” dreadlocks shouted then covered him mouth as he laughed harder.
King watched them warily, realizing he was trapped. What was Andrew saying about him being safe?
“Sit down man, have a drink.” The one who had sat on his legs offered, a mischievous smile on his face.
“No, thank you.” He rushed out, his voice coming out like a rabbit's squeak.
“What?”
He cleared his throat.
“No, thank you.” He repeated louder. He forced on a brave façade, deciding to play Andrew’s card.
“Andrew told me you have no bad intentions and that I was free to leave.”
The room broke into fits of laughter.
“Hell no!” Andrew shouted, “You gotta pay for my forehead. It hurts real bad.”
“Do we look like we have no bad intentions?” the one who had sat on his legs said.
“We should give him some more alcohol, he's been asleep too long.” Another one mocked.
“You do what Andrew says.” A fourth one said.
Dreadlocks looked him up and down, sizing him up.
“Jack you take him.”
King blinked confusedly, looking to Jack who just stood up.
He only understood after the one who sat on his legs said,
“We beat him last time. Let’s see if he can do better.”
He was to fight Jack.
Andrew nodded, “Looks like he got some muscles there.”
They all quickly got on their feet with the exception of dreadlocks, the anticipation for a good fight evident in their faces as they moved chairs away to create enough space at the centre of the room.
King shuffled his feets slowly to the ring already created where Jack stood waiting for him, growing extremely uncomfortable. He could take on Jack, Jack was his size but then Jack was part of this dirty people. He would definitely have street fighting skills and would fight dirty.
“Rules” dreadlocks spoke up and the room fell silent, “Only rule, try not to kill each other.”
King wasn’t listening. He had his eyes fixed on the vacant space the men had left unknowingly that led to the front door, the keys were right there, if he could just…
“Hey!”
He had already made his way there
He grabbed the keys, randomly inserting one into the lock. He prayed, the door opened just as someone grabbed unto the back of his hoodie. His left elbow went back, hitting soft flesh, the hand came off. He swung the door open, dashing out just as a fist connected with his back. He tumbled down the rest the stairs to the lawn.
“Hey! Are you okay!?”
He stood up, looking behind just in time to see the slam shut then he looked to the direction where the female voice had come from. A woman likely in her late fourties and a girl, about his age, stood staring at him from the opposite lawn. He bent his head, throwing his hoodie cap up over his face and then he walked away quickly.