I've been bruised and I've been broken
Can't believe I put up with all this pain

Chapter 05 ~ Everything You're Not

Trey Carter

Okay, dildo, let's see what you got. 

I held the flexible blue penis in my hands and stared at it, carefully examining all the bumps and grooves. It was amazing how much it resembled a real penis.

With a deep breath, I set the dildo beside me and moved my fingers to the waistband of my jeans. Undoing the button and zipper, I pushed my jeans, along with my boxers, to the floor and slowly stepped out of them. I sat back down on the edge of the bed and glanced down at my own penis, smiling a little.

I crawled onto the bed and positioned myself on my hands and knees. With one hand, I held myself up and grabbed onto my member with the other. Letting my eyes flutter shut, I tried to picture a really hot and sweaty scene. Fortunately for me, I already had a few sexy fantasy scenes involving me and Scar that I always kept on demand.

It was right after football practice. My teammates had already filed into the locker room to change, but there was one teammate that my eyes were practically glued to: Scar Patterson, otherwise known as my best friend since forever.

It was wrong of me to be in love with him. It was truly so pathetic, but it wasn't like I could control the way I felt around him. Those feelings have been going pretty strong for six years now and they obviously weren't going away anytime soon.

After a total of ten minutes, the locker room was empty with the exception of Scar and me. I tried not to stare at him too much, but it was awfully hard to do when my eyes were so attracted to the dip in his back and the way his jeans hung loosely around his waist, exposing the waistband of his underwear.

"Stop staring," he said suddenly.

"What?" I questioned, my throat getting dry.

"If you want to see me naked, all you have to do is ask." He turned to face me and began to make his way to me. Once he was close enough, he hooked a finger through the belt loop on my jeans and tugged me closer to him.

"Scar, what are you..."

He pressed a finger to my lips to silence me. "I broke up with Jamie."

My eyebrows jumped up. "You did? What? Why?"

"Because I'm in love with someone else." His lips curled into a smile and I nearly melted on the spot. "I love you, Trey, and I want you so much."

"I-I want you, t-too." I had never expected anything like this to happen, so I was at a complete loss for words.

He closed the space between us by firmly crashing his lips on mine. I stiffened for a quick moment, not really knowing how to respond, but I melted under his touch once his hands moved to my waist. His tongue entered my mouth and swirled around, bringing the kiss to another level. He kissed me like he missed me. He kissed me like he loved me.

Without wasting much time, he grabbed onto my jeans and undid the buttons, hastily shoving them down to my ankles. "Get down on your knees," he ordered in a rough voice. I complied with his requests and got down to the ground with my back facing him.

I waited as he hovered above me and ran his hands along the outline of my body. Just when I thought I had enough, he pulled on the waistband of my boxers and practically ripped them off me. I heard the sound of a zipper shortly after and I sucked in a breath, mentally preparing myself for what was to come.

Right in tune with my fantasy, I stopped stroking myself and grabbed onto the dildo beside me. It took me quite a while to actually move forward, which was synonymous with Scar making me wait so long. Finally, with a final breath, I pressed the end of the dildo to my entrance and prayed for the best.

But before I could go any further, my bedroom door swung open.

All too soon, I leaped onto the floor and tried to conceal my naked body behind the bed. When my eyes met the pair of familiar turquoise ones, I swore my heart almost stopped. "Scar!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. "What the fuck! Have you ever heard of knocking?"

Scar gave me a teasing grin. "Have you ever heard of locking?"

I gaped at him and his inability to follow common house etiquette, and then I quickly glanced down at my very hard and very prominent dick. With a groan, I returned my attention to him. "Scar," I whined. Surely, he wouldn't be too fond of the idea of his best friend fantasizing about him—not that I'd ever tell him that.

But despite my clear embarrassment, Scar waltzed into the room with a smile. His gaze fell onto the sex toy on the bed, instantly turning his smile into a knowing smirk right before letting go of a slight chuckle. "Someone's enjoying himself."

Eyes growing wide, I snatched the dildo from its position on the bed and set it beside him, out of his line of sight. His response was just another smug laugh and he continued to walk further into my bedroom. "Scar!" I screeched. "Stop right there! Don't come any closer."

He stopped abruptly with his eyes fixed on me and a cynical smile creeping onto his face. He didn't move closer, though; instead, he scoffed. "A dildo, huh? How's that? I got one for Jamie and he absolutely loves it."

"I don't need to know that," I said with a hint of bitterness in my voice. Scar snickered some more while I set my eyes to the floor, searching for my clothes and absentmindedly thinking about a way to get rid of this boner.

I searched for a full minute and I was just seconds away from giving up when Scar threw a pair of boxers at my head. Plucking it out of the air, I tried to focus my attention on anything but him.

"So," he prompted just as he plopped onto the edge of my bed, "you gonna tell me about that boy from a couple nights ago?"

I rolled my eyes and suddenly, I wasn't so turned on anymore. "You mean that jerk who stole my money and left me for dead in a nightclub? There isn't much to him other than that." Shrugging my boxers onto my legs and standing to my full height, I crossed the room to find something new to wear. "Is there a reason why you're here?"

Scar shrugged. "Just came to check on you."

I glanced over my shoulder at him and stared for a bit, bewildered, but I eventually allowed my muscles to relax into a smile. "Thanks, Patterson."

He smiled back—a big smile with teeth and everything. God, he was so fucking cute.  "Let's play some video games or something," he sang and shouted at the same time as he leaped off the bed and crawled over to the gaming station of my room. He took it upon himself to choose a game and get it started and I had no reason to protest. He was here with me and that was all I could ever ask for.

I got dressed quickly and slid into the empty space next to him, snatching a controller from his hands. "Don't you think we're too old for this?"

Scar's brows knitted together. "Uh, hell no! You're never too old to play video games. Just imagine when we go to SHC! We'll be roommates and we'll play video games all the time." He swung an arm around my shoulder and looked at me with a smile.

As I stared into his light green eyes, I found myself getting lost—lost in his eyes, in his voice, in him. It reminded me of why I fell in love with him in the first place. I thought it was a mistake to turn down my full-ride scholarship to Notre Dame, but I was quickly realizing that it wasn't. I wanted to go to college with Scar. I wanted to share a room with him. I wanted us to be close again.

Just when I started to get lost in my thoughts, my bedroom door popped open and a fairly short, middle-aged woman stood in the doorway—our housekeeper, Rita. "Sorry for bothering you, but there is someone at the door."

I frowned, knowing my parents weren't expecting any visitors today, but I stood anyway. "It's fine, but can you make us some snacks?"

Rita nodded. "What would you like?"

I glanced at Scar and raised a prompting brow.

"I'm in the mood for donuts," he voiced, "and soda."

Rita locked her fingers together and smiled. "Donuts and soda, it is." She turned on her heel and scurried out of the doorway to retreat to the kitchen. I followed closely behind her, but my destination was the front door.

My hands snaked around the door knob and I threw the door wide open with full force, preparing myself to greet the person on the other side of the threshold. My facial expression fell flat when I locked eyes with Owen's forest green orbs. His dark hair was askew, sticking out in different directions, but he didn't seem to care. There were cuts and bruises on his face, especially on his nose where I punched him the most. Beside him, was a shorter female with short blonde hair, big blue eyes, and red-stained lips.

I didn't spend much time looking at them because my senses kicked in and I grabbed onto the door to slam it shut. Before I could do so, though, Owen's hand pushed roughly on the other side, preventing me from closing it. "Get fucking lost!" I snapped as I pushed back.

"We need your help, kid," he replied in a calm and collected voice.

"Well, you're definitely not getting it!" I pressed my back against the door and tried to push with all my might, but Owen was obviously determined to talk to me judging by his strong resistance. "Fuck off!"

I heard him sigh from the other side. I made the dire mistake of assuming that meant he had given up, because he kicked the door open with an incredible force, causing me to stumble forward and almost fall over. I managed to keep myself balanced and after a few seconds, I looked over my shoulder at him. "What the hell do you want?"

"Money," he said simply, not even bothering to beat around the bush. He shoved his hands into his pockets and smiled at me. My gaze drifted to the blonde whose red lips were pulled into a similar smile.

I laughed so hard that I snorted. "Hah! You think-" Laugh, "-that I'm gonna-" Another laugh. "-give you money?" The laughter consumed my whole body that I was incapable of saying anything else. The only thing I could do was double over as the laughter seized my insides and continue to laugh—sometimes so hard that it sounded like I was screaming—at his absurd request.

Owen's eyes followed my every move as his jaw clenched tightly. "What's so funny? It's an emergency. You have plenty of money so it's not like you're gonna miss it or anything."

My laughter died down as I gave him a cold stare that I hoped was very intimidating. "I'm not giving you any money. Please leave. You wouldn't want me to rearrange your face again, would you?"

His face hardened as he took a step closer to me. "Listen, kid, I don't have time for this fucking bullshit. If you don't give me the money, I'll—"

"Owen," the blonde spoke up, her blue eyes filled with concern. "Are you sure you wanna do this?"

He looked at her, face softening instantly. His muscles seemed to relax, too. "No, you're right," he agreed just as he took a step back and grabbed onto her hand. "I don't have time for this stupid mutt."

My eyes narrowed. "What'd you just call me?"

He turned to face me, a smirk on his face. "I called you a mutt."

Seriously? Did he not learn his lesson the first time?

Growing angry, I charged towards him to give him a piece of my mind, but before I could get my hands on him, the blonde grabbed onto my wrists and held them behind my back. My brows furrowed in confusion once I saw an amused smile inch its way into Owen's face, but my confusion quickly turned into fear when he retrieved a syringe with a very prominent needle from his jacket pocket.

My heart dropped to my stomach. "W-what are you doing?"

He didn't answer me directly. His nonverbal response mostly consisted of him stalking towards me and pushing my shirtsleeves up. Realizing the nature of the situation, I opened my mouth to scream, but Owen pressed his hand against my mouth, muffling any sound that I dared to utter.

"This would've been a hell of a lot easier if you just gave us the money," he noted just as he pressed the needle against the flesh of my shoulder. My eyes widened in shock when the sharp needle broke through my skin and he injected me with an unknown liquid. I willed myself to scream, to move, to fight, to do something, but it seemed as though every thought that entered my mind was instantly erased. With just a few more seconds, I felt like I wasn't even in control of my own brain anymore.

My mind was shutting down. My body was shutting down. Everything was shutting down.

Then suddenly, all I saw was darkness.

*  *  *

When I regained consciousness, I noticed that my face was pressed against a torn leather seat. It took my brain awhile to process how I must've gotten into this position. I remembered trying to masturbate, then Scar obnoxiously walking in on me. I remembered playing video games and Rita telling me someone was at the door. Just when I thought I'd have no success, I heard a familiar masculine voice and all my memories came flooding back.

Owen.

I stood up straight, a sharp pain ripping though my spine in the process, and assessed my surroundings. I was in a car—a truck to be exact. I glanced out the window, taking note of how fast we were going and desperately trying to place our location, but without much luck. What I was able to gather was that we were on a highway of some sort.

My eyes drifted to the two people seated in the front seat. "What the hell!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, making Owen and the blonde jump in surprise. My heart was beating rapidly and I could practically feel the blood rushing to my head. "What did you do to me? Where are you taking me? Oh, God, I'm gonna die."

Owen turned off the highway, turning the exit very sharply and with much haste, barely missing the highway's metal barriers, but he still didn't respond. After a long moment of silence, I decided that he wasn't going to.

My first thought was to dig into my pockets for my cell phone, so I could call the police, but I couldn't find it. "Where's my phone?" I asked them.

The blonde chuckled to herself. "We threw it away."

"You did what? You can't do that!"

The blonde looked over her shoulder to give me a silly smile. "'Course we can, we just did. Besides, what kind of kidnappers would we be if we actually let you keep your phone?"

The fear kept building up in my chest until it was lodged in my throat, preventing me from saying anything.

I was going to die.

They were going to kill me.

AND I STILL HAVEN'T USED MY GODDAMN DILDO!

"I need to pee," I blurted out. It wasn't anywhere close to being the truth, but I needed to escape somehow.

Owen kept his eyes on the road, not even bothering to give me any attention. "Tough luck, kid. Hold it in."

"But I need to-"

Owen turned on the radio and set the volume to its highest setting, drowning out my voice with the sound of unsettling, heavy rock music. I shook my head in disbelief and sunk into my seat, folding my arms against my chest. Just a few days ago, his radio "didn't work", but now it was perfectly capable of overpowering my voice.

So I stayed silent for the rest of the drive, thinking of ways I could escape. Certainly, jumping out of a moving vehicle didn't sound too part, so I decided to wait until we arrived at our final destination which happened to be an apartment in a totally sketchy neighborhood.

As the blonde ushered me out of the truck, I kept my eyes peeled for any street signs to give me an indicator of where I was. She must've noticed because she repeatedly turned my head to look straight ahead and nowhere else. She didn't really look like she'd have much physical strength, but the way her hands gripped onto my wrists told me that she was on something worse than crack.

Owen jiggled a key into the busted lock and pushed the door open, bumping it with his hip a couple times before it finally gave in. He led the way and the blonde quickly followed, roughly shoving me into the apartment and closing the door behind her, and then releasing me like I had just burned her.

The raw stench of smoke caught my nostrils and I grimaced. My disgust deepened even further when I saw the interior of the apartment. The kitchen was the first thing to catch my attention with its white cabinets that looked more brown than white and its obviously fake, plastic tiles. Dishes were piled into the sink and I think I might have seen a mosquito flying around them. The living room was relatively close to the kitchen with nothing more than a futon (who the hell has futons anymore) and a small TV—the kind with the huge cable box attached to the back of it.

"Oh my god," I gasped. "I think I'm going to puke."

Owen studied me for a long moment, before rolling his eyes. "Jonah!" he called out.

Almost simultaneously, an older man who looked to be in his thirties appeared from behind a narrow hallway. His hair was black and I wasn't sure if it was natural or not. What stood out more than his hair, though, were how red his eyes were. "Owen, you're back! Is this the rich kid?"

He nodded.

"Wow, I never thought he'd be black!"

I shifted uncomfortably. Great. I was stuck in a grimy apartment with not one, but two, racist assholes.

Owen laughed at that and strolled over to the living room to retrieve a pack of cigarettes. "Raven, think you can get the room ready for him?"

The blonde, Raven, nodded promptly and sauntered behind the same hallway that Jonah came from. I stood there uncomfortably, wondering what Owen's end game was because it didn't look like he was going to explain anytime soon. He shuffled to the black futon, fell back into it, and lit his cigarette.

"So what are you guys going to do to me?" I pried. "Burn me alive and smoke my ashes?"

Owen lifted his head from the futon to look at me with a puzzled look. "You have a really weird mind, y'know that right?" When I didn't respond, he continued with, "No, we're not gonna kill you or eat you or smoke you. We're gonna keep you hostage and reach out to your parents for money. If they love you enough, they'll send us a few thousand dollars to ensure your safe return."

"You can't keep me here," I protested. "I'm not used to this..." My gaze fell onto the stack of dishes again, "...lifestyle."

He stifled a laugh. "Tough."

"I'm sorry I punched you, okay? Can you please just let me go?"

Owen shrugged with an odd amount of nonchalance. "Leave, if you want, but this area is known for its very high crime rates. If anyone sees you walking around with those..." He gestured to my sneakers, "...they'll kill you. They might even eat you if you're so desperate to be eaten."

That would've been my plan, but suddenly, running away didn't seem too pleasing.

"What if my parents don't give you the money?" I asked. The reason why the question entered my mind was because I wasn't even sure if my parents loved me enough to want me back. Would they go through all the trouble of giving away their money for me? If I had been sure of my parents' unconditional love for me, I would've said yes without a doubt.

But I wasn't sure.

I didn't even know my parents. The only thing I knew was that they made a lot of money and they flaunted it to the best of their ability.

In my 18 years of life, not once did they say they loved me.

Owen heaved himself up from the futon and ambled into the kitchen. I followed his every move as he opened the pantry and grabbed a box of powdered donuts—donuts that I was supposed to be having with Scar.

He stuffed a donut into his mouth and looked at me for an unsettling amount of time before saying,

"Well, sucks for you."

_______

a/n: And here I am with another update! A blizzard is passing through our area so I didn't have school today and I thought I might give you guys another chapter of BTR.

So what do you guys think? Will Trey's parents pay the ransom? Would it be such a bad thing if they didn't? I mean, then he'll be stuck with Owen 24/7!!

If you enjoyed this chapter, please don't forget to vote and leave a comment. That stuff really means a lot to me!

Until next time,
Lara <3