Mason's Run

by Mellanie Rourke

  The sound of my heartbeat grew louder and louder, blood pounded in my ears even as my vision grayed. As things began to go black again, and I felt Ricky’s body thrust a final time, I groaned at the hated feeling of his seed pouring into my channel, staining my body and soul. Because why waste a condom on something you were throwing out anyway? I didn’t know how many more times he and Dreyven fucked me, then choked me until I passed out.

  Each time I woke, dragging air into my starving lungs, my terror lost for a moment beneath the need to breathe. At some point I must have passed out for more than just a moment, because when I became conscious, Dreyven was in the bathroom taking a piss. I was on my back on the bed, my pants shoved down around my ankles. Ricky’s back was to me as he fiddled with the camera, and I saw my moment. I rolled off the bed, yanked my pants up and ran for the door.

  I was caught up short by what felt like a blow to my leg, then I felt another blow hit my face. I’d been so intent on trying to escape, I hadn’t realized that one of them had tied my ankle to the bed while I was unconscious. The rope made me fall flat on my face and I didn’t see the kick Ricky had aimed at me that followed my fall. The next blow I tried to dodge, and tried to run, but the knots around my ankle weren’t fucking around. I couldn’t get far.

  I’d barely gotten to my feet when Ricky’s fist slammed into my stomach, driving the hard-earned air from my lungs, doubling me over. Then Dreyven came out of the bathroom and joined in the beating.

  By the time they stopped, my body was just a mass of pain. My left eye was so swollen I couldn’t see out of it. l could feel blood oozing from my mouth and nose, probably from the kick to the face that left me coughing blood and spitting shattered teeth to the floor.

  I was on all fours on the floor, still tied to the bed, trying to remember how to breathe. I saw Ricky sit down on the bed and then he picked up something off the table: It was a sketch I had drawn of Zem on one of those complimentary notepads hotels kept near the phone.

  “You’re just like your mom, you know that, you piece of trash? She used to draw pictures, too.” He stood and tore the paper into pieces, sprinkling them on my head as they fell.

  I tried to get to my feet before he moved.

  “You and Navi both. You think you’re sooooo special because you can draw pictures?” he said, giving Dreyven a purposeful nod.

  “No, Ricky, please…” I pleaded, knowing what he intended. He’d threatened to do it before when he had caught me drawing at the house on some old junk mail.

  Dreyven grabbed my right arm and pulled it out straight beside me. Then the world turned to white hot agony and I screamed as Ricky’s foot came down on my elbow, and I heard something snap.

  I did vomit then, though nothing came up but water and bile. I didn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. Zem and I hadn’t had any money for food. I’d planned on using the twenty bucks from the trick to grab something to eat. Ricky grabbed my hair and forced my head back as I moaned, his rage thick in his voice as puke dribbled down my chin onto his shirt.

  “You, my little bitch, are going to earn back every cent that cunt would have made me, and more,” he growled.

  He threw me onto the bed, which drew a ragged cry from me as white-hot pain shot through my arm. Dreyven began methodically stripping me and tying the rest of my limbs to the bed. I wasn’t sure what Ricky meant by his comments about making back the money until the first “customer” showed up at the hotel room.

  “I really like the internet, y’know?” He spoke conversationally as Dreyven tightened the knots, right in front of the first guy who’d showed up. “All kinds of folks out there willing to pay for sex, and they’re not too picky about their partners.”

  He was right. I don’t know how many men came to the room, but none of them seemed too concerned about the fact I was obviously broken, bleeding, and tied to the bed. They just handed Ricky or Dreyven the cash and inflicted even more pain on me. Eventually, after one particularly violent guy came through (no pun intended) I blessedly passed out.

  I didn’t know how long it was before I slowly came back to consciousness, but there seemed to be a never-ending line of men. Waves of nausea wracked through me each time one of them touched me. Every shove against the mattress sent electrifying pain through my arm, and after a while, I realized there was no way I was going to survive this. I was surprised that thought didn’t bother me much. I knew Zem was safe. The rest…didn’t seem to matter.

  I didn’t even know how long I’d been there. A day? Two? Three? I could barely see at all, my body was covered with bruises, cuts and bites. A lot of Dreyven’s customers enjoyed inflicting pain, too.

  I knew I was pissing blood only because one of the customers had complained about it. It wasn’t like they were giving me bathroom breaks, for god’s sake. I didn’t know what I looked like, but it must have been pretty bad. As I groped my way back to consciousness, I finally heard a customer refusing to have sex with me.

  “Are you fucking kidding me, asshole?” the voice above me demanded, anger and something else barely leashed in his voice. He seemed to growl, almost with disgust and rage.

  “He’s just a kid!”

  There was a giant of a man towering over Ricky. I couldn’t see him very clearly – my left eye was still swollen shut, and something seemed wrong with my right. Everything was blurry and out of focus. At last Ricky seemed to have finally found a customer who wasn’t pleased with the goods.

  “What? He’s legal. You wanna see his fuckin’ birth certificate? You said online you wanted to fuck, so fuck,” Ricky said, sucking on a lit cigarette. I could just make out his beefy arms waving toward the bed as he walked out the door. “No refunds,” he barked, slamming the door shut behind him.

  I thought I saw the man’s fists clench and unclench – almost as if he was restraining himself from punching Ricky, but only just. Some kind of noise must have slipped from my lips, because the giant of a man turned toward me. The only light in the room came from the windows behind him, the glow creating a halo outlining his body. I’d never been one to believe in God. I mean, what kind of a God would have left a little kid in Ricky and Dreyven’s care? But this guy…this guy looked like an angel. He stepped toward the bed with a lurch. I thought he might fall, but then realized he had something wrong with his leg and was limping.

  An angel…with a limp? He didn’t have any obvious deformity, but I could see he was using a cane to support himself as he got closer to the bed. He sat down gingerly next to me and held a hand out toward me, like he was going to touch me, and I couldn’t help but recoil. Even that slight movement sent pain shooting through my arm, and I moaned as he moved closer.

  I couldn’t see anything except his outline, but he seemed to be trying very hard not to sit too close to me. Considering all the things that had been done to me over the last few days, I didn’t blame him. I wouldn’t want to touch me, either.

  “Poor kid,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” As he spoke, his voice broken and low, I could hear the shock, sadness and regret in it.

  He must be a newbie, I thought. He’d better keep his voice down, or there’ll be hell to pay. Most of my customers were inured to the suffering of others. It was the only way they could do what they did.

  I was pretty sure even Ricky and Dreyven couldn’t hear him from their positions outside the motel room door, but why take chances? They had moved outside to give us some “privacy”, but the door was very thin. Even now I could hear them outside talking.

  The trick’s voice was soft and warm, like a blanket you brought out to wrap around you on chilly nights. Somehow, something about him made me feel... safe. As ridiculous as that was in this situation, just feeling this warm presence next to me on the bed made my body start to relax. He glanced up at the door of the room, obviously hearing my captors talking outside as well.

  “Don’t worry, kid, I’ll get you out of here. Just… hang in there,” he whispered.

  I kne
w it was stupid, but unexpected hope grew inside me. I didn’t know why I believed him. This man, this stranger…He had no reason to help me. I didn’t care how much of a halo he had right now, angels weren’t real, and there were no white knights in this world. I knew that. People didn’t really give a shit about each other. But somehow, for some reason, this guy seemed to care... about me. He saw me, not just as a body to be used for his pleasure, but as a person. Maybe one worth saving…?

  The strength and compassion in his voice were like a lifeline, and despite myself I latched on for dear life. I couldn’t even open my eye beyond a slit at this point, but as he sat next to me I could smell… something… cologne? Or soap, maybe? Something spicy, rich like amber, but twined with vanilla, like those really expensive candles they sold at the mall. It smelled so odd in this place; as if a breeze from a sweeter, more innocent world had made its way into my own personal hell.

  I was tied face down to the bed. He brushed a gentle thumb across my forehead, his fingers catching in a piece of hair that was glued by blood, or something worse, to a cut on my face. His hands brought that smell closer, and I inhaled deeply. I clung to that smell, that touch, my face turning ever so slightly to chase that scent. That smell and that touch were all I had, and for a moment, hope soared in me. A small sound escaped me, part sob, part sigh.

  “Please…”

  That simple sound seemed a tipping point for the trick, because he stood abruptly, leaning heavily on his cane and turned away from the bed, walking to the door. He threw open the door with a slam and I heard him yelling at Dreyven and Ricky as he left.

  “Done already?” Dreyven snickered as the man walked into the sunshine outside the motel room door.

  “Shit, forget it man,” he said to Dreyven as he walked outside where the big man sat. “I don’t do corpses,” he said derisively. “And that’s all he’s going to be soon, if you don’t get him help,” he lobbed over his shoulder, disgust and derision in his voice as he limped away. “Keep your fucking money.”

  If he hadn’t said that last, I thought Ricky or Dreyven might have jumped him, but his words did make Ricky raise his bulk up out of the chair he’d been sitting in. My heart sank as they both came back inside, and Dreyven slammed the door shut behind them. Dreyven and Ricky in the same room was never a good idea.

  My stomach dropped to my feet at the sound of the man’s footsteps fading away, along with the hope that had sprung up at his words. A lie. Of course, it had been a lie. No one would save me. No white knights would be coming to my rescue. No dark angels. Why had I believed him? I was so fucking stupid.

  Ricky leaned over me, his greasy onion smell overpowering the scent the stranger had brought to my hell. His eyes dragging his gaze up and down my body as if he hadn’t seen me in a while, and said, “Fuck, I guess you are a mess. Guess it’s time to finish this.”

  Any thought I had that maybe one of them would realize they’d gone too far, any hope that maybe he was going to let me go, were completely destroyed when Dreyven’s hands dropped to his belt buckle. I’d seen him use his belt on his other whores, usually when he was done with them and ready to ruin them or kill them.

  “You ready, Drey?” Ricky asked while Dreyven did something with the video camera.

  “Yeah, almost out of memory. Gonna have to make this quick,” he muttered.

  Pride be damned, a whimper escaped my throat.

  “Oh, so now you’re sorry?” Ricky chuckled evilly.

  “Too late, boy. You embarrassed me by running, Mason,” Dreyven said, the leather belt making a sinister, hissing noise as it slid from the loops of his pants. Fear boiled up in my throat. Pure, undiluted terror. He’d made me watch when he’d killed a woman with that belt.

  “The others know you ran, and now we’ve got to make an example of you,” Dreyven said, bringing the belt down across my back. His voice stayed oddly even as he struck me. For all his bulk, Dreyven was still in good shape. He didn’t even break a sweat.

  He lashed out with the belt, striking me across my lower back, the buckled edge biting into my side deep enough to draw blood. I cried out, but all I had left were moans as he struck me again and again.

  “Once I’m done with you, Ricky’s going to play with you for a little while, and then he’s going to put a bullet in your brain.”

  Ricky leaned close to me, jerking my head back by my hair, and whispering in my ear, “You remember how I like to play, right?” He dropped my head back on the bed, and all I could do was shudder. “Yeah, you remember, all right,” he said, his voice low in satisfaction.

  The strikes were slow and lazy, but with immense power in them. Even in the condition I was in, I tried to escape, I pulled at my bonds with my unbroken limbs, moaning at each strike, until eventually, my voice left me and I couldn’t even twitch. My back, buttocks and thighs were a throbbing mass of pain by the time he was done. I could feel the blood running down my sides, cooling on my skin and soaking into the blanket beneath me.

  I lay on the bed, finally unable even to twitch at his strikes, the world fading in and out around me. Drey leaned his greasy form over my body a final time and whispered, “Enjoy hell, Mason. Say hi to your mom for me.”

  Slowly and methodically, Dreyven packed up everything, including the camera. The pain in my body was so intense, I could hardly comprehend what was happening, but kept hoping to mercifully pass out. Ricky always gave a person one last fuck, and once he had his release, he’d put a bullet in my brain. I saw Drey shoulder his bag and leave the room, without so much as a backward glance. As the door shut behind him, I knew the end was near, at least.

  “You were a bad, bad boy, Mason,” Ricky said, his voice soft, low and deadly. “And you know what I love to do with bad boys.”

  I had nothing left. No fight, no resistance. I knew, deep down in my soul that I was going to die, and I accepted that fact. I had seen what Ricky had done to “bad boys” in the past, and while it churned my stomach, I could only hope that it would be over soon.

  My sight was still messed up – some things I could see clearly, others were blurry and out of focus. I could vaguely make out the outline of Ricky, standing by the dresser, but then I heard it. A click, a whoosh, then a hissing sound, and I knew what was coming next. Ricky loved to play with fire. I’d watched him burn the face off a girl they thought had been stealing from them. It didn’t matter that it had been her pimp stealing, Ricky and Dreyven took it out on her.

  Ricky’s torch went everywhere with him in the trunk of his car, and I could see its silhouette on the dresser across from the bed. I could smell the ozone-like stink as he adjusted the torch to a bright blue flame and could hear the crackling as he heated his branding tool. My eyes focused for a moment on the small R-shaped brand that glowed white hot as he waved it back and forth over the flame. I’d seen it used on other people before, which had been enough incentive for me to make sure I never gave him reason to use it on me.

  Somewhere, somehow, I dredged up the last shreds of my strength and tried to move away from him as he stood next to the bed. He laughed at my futile efforts and simply wrapped one hand almost gently around my broken arm and squeezed. The pain was enough to make me heave again. While my body spasmed at the pain in my arm Ricky released it only to reach out and roughly spread my cheeks. I felt the flesh of my ass burn as he jammed the brand against my body and smelled the sizzling stink of burnt hair and skin as the red-hot metal connected with my flesh.

  I found my voice again and screamed, the noise rapidly turned to a rasping moan and I wished desperately I could fall unconscious, but the pain was too insistent. I felt the tug of my scorched flesh as it stuck to the iron when he pulled it away, then heard the tink as Ricky dropped the brand against the top of the dresser.

  Ricky looked down at his work and nodded in satisfaction. I knew his silence was a sign of even worse things to come, but the haze of agony and fear were too much, and I couldn’t even respond as he untied my arms and dragged my body
to the end of the bed. I knew I was going to die.

  All I could do was moan as I heard him unzip his pants and felt him shove his cock inside me with one long stroke. I had been used so long and by so many that he had no problem forcing inside me.

  The pain was still intense, so violent on top of everything else I had already suffered, it tore a ragged scream from me, and I felt something tear deep inside my belly. Nausea roiled my stomach and something hot and wet began to drip down my thighs and pool under me, soaking the already disgusting mattress.

  “Fuck!” Ricky yelled, pulling out of me. The room started to spin.

  I still couldn’t see much, but one memory I would treasure for the rest of my life was the shocked fury on Ricky’s face when the door to the hotel room burst in and the first bullet hit him in the shoulder, spinning him around, his deflating cock flapping as he spun. Everything was a blur, popping sounds going off around me, a blur of light and color flooding the dark room, burning into my eyes. Then silence.

  Then a visual etched into my brain. Ricky’s head slumped against the bed near my face, a neat round hole right between his eyebrows, and a single drop of blood trickling its way down his face. Through the smell of burnt gunpowder, I caught a whiff of that heavenly smell again--that vanilla and amber smell. My White Knight. My Dark Angel.

  “Goddamn fucking leg. Took me forever to get back here,” his voice growled. It was my heavenly-scented rescuer, his cane in his left hand, a gun in his right.

  He turned and shut the door as well as he could. The rusty hinges hadn’t been able to withstand the force of his blow. I felt a tear roll down my nose and sink into the already blood-soaked blanket. He hadn’t abandoned me after all.

  I felt his hands, strong and firm, untie me all the way and turn me over on the bed. They then began to do things to my body. Not assault me, like what had happened with the other men, my rescuer seemed to be… taking care of me? I didn’t remember anyone taking care of me since I was a baby. The thought somehow turned my tears into sobs, interrupted only by horrible rounds of retching as the blinding pain flashed through me.