Circle Jerk

by catt dahman

  CIRCLE JERK

  catt dahman

  Copyright.

  catt dahman

  J.EllingtonAshtonPress

  © 2014

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book, including the cover, and photos, may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. All rights reserved.

  Chapter One

  This is not a sexual story; it isn’t about what the reader may think it is. It’s something that happened to me, and I named my story this because of something someone said during my ordeal.

  Ordeal. That sounds as if I were merely a survivor of an airplane that went down in the Everglades, amid starving, quick-footed alligators, or that I was chased through the woods by an axe-wielding, inbred murderer. I truly wish that was what I was subjected to and that was my ordeal, but neither happened; what did happen was far worse.

  My situation (ordeal) was the worst nightmare I can imagine. People always say things like that, and their stories are horrific, but I promise, mine beats all of them, not because it was me, but because of the sheer atrocity. There is nothing more terrifying than what a fellow human can think of to hurt another. It’s only worse when the inhumanity and horror begin making sense and one becomes afraid to run away or begins to kind of understand it.

  I will tell my story, but not my name because I want my readers to see what it was really like and to know that every detail is being told in absolute honesty. How I am judged is open. I can’t take back what happened, and I can’t make it anything other than what it was, or there is no reason to tell the story.

  From this, it is clear someone survived. That is me. If others survived, only this story can tell what the circumstances were. I only want to tell it as it occurred, so maybe I won’t forget one day. No matter what, I have to keep the truth somewhere, maybe hidden here.

  Yeah, it’s a jerky thing to do, not to share who I am so, but it’s all I have.

  Chapter Two

  It was dark, like ink spilled upon a page of white paper and poured so that the edges showed, and everyone knew how sightless each was because each one could see those edges, the distant white edges. Far away were dim lights, but they were something to see and not to see by. In fact, every person upon awaking did the same things: held a hand up before his face, rubbed his eyes, checked his eye sockets, blinked, and strained to see the far-away lights.

  After an eye check, each person tried to find a comfortable position to sit up and feel around with fingertips, trying to understand the situation and muttering himself. It was frightening to awaken in those circumstances, but it was also confusing to have no idea how each came to be there and where there was.

  Lovie sat up and went through the routine. She understood fast that her eyes were fine but that she was in a dark place; it didn’t take much in the way of brains to figure that out. She also knew she was sitting on something hard and cool. Her denim shorts were very short and hardly covered her butt, so she felt the cold, hard metal underneath her.

  Before she explored, she had been slumped to her side, and she thought probably she had been asleep or maybe even knocked out. Her head ached where she had been leaning; hard ridges made impressions on the skin of her temple. The ache was down deep in her head, a pain that bespoke of her having been in the uncomfortable position a long time.

  Lovie had not been aware of anything for a while and didn’t know why she was there, how she came to be there, or who might have brought her to the place. She knew she had not come of her own choice but couldn’t remember much. She sat up and found that she couldn’t move very far, and she understood that her arm had been raised and was somehow locked into handcuffs, not that she really understood anything. She only knew the cuffs were strong.

  Why Lovie would be handcuffed was something she couldn’t figure out either unless she had been arrested. She would recall that, she figured. Maybe. What would she have been arrested for anyway?

  “What the hell?” a voice startled Lovie. It was close but not really close, not close enough to touch the owner of the voice. Someone was possibly a few feet away. “Hello? What the hell did you do to me?” asked the male voice, gruff and furious.

  “Me? I didn’t do a damned thing. Who are you?” The voice kind of scared Lovie because it was full of anger and was accusatory; it also came out of the darkness without warning. She snapped back at the man as a defensive measure. She might have sounded tough as she responded, but she was tense and shaking. Hopefully, the man had no idea how much he scared her when he yelled, “Who are you?”

  Lovie gritted her teeth, wondering why the man was being difficult. She called back, “I’m Lovie. I can’t get out…something…my arm…I’m handcuffed or something. I didn’t do anything to you, Mister.” She hated the fear that crept into her voice and didn’t want to sound weak and added, “maybe you did something to me. Maybe you put me here.”

  Maybe he had, and maybe he hadn’t, but someone put her where she was. Her muscles bunched up, and she felt ready for fight or flight. She would run if given a chance, and she would fight if she had to. She wanted one or the other soon while her adrenaline was high and she was ready. The handcuffs would cause her a problem.

  “Hardly,” the man called back, “I didn’t put you anywhere.”

  “Hey,” another voice called out, “Jake here. Lovie, you seem close.”

  “Was that you?” She jumped as she felt his hands on her arm, the arm that was handcuffed. It scared her and shocked her, and she gulped down panic. How could he be touching her arm? Having her arm locked away as it was and then having someone touch her made her feel vulnerable; it was more than someone being in her personal space. It was a little threatening although this man, Jake, had not harmed her, had not said anything hateful, and had not tried to scare her.

  It was just how Lovie felt. It made her want to scream and cry for some reason; it made her feel vulnerable. She hoped he didn’t touch her again even if he weren’t a threatening person so far.

  “Yes. Why is your arm beside me?” Jake had known she was close and felt around with his hands; his left hand touched something warm. He figured out that was her hand, and he felt of it, apologizing as he did so. He felt her hand and arm tense. He made her nervous, but he had to try to find answer. Her entire arm was near his face, forced straight out, but it wasn’t her choice. As he ran his fingers over her hand and then arm, he found a sort of cuff right above her elbow.

  Lovie’s skin jumped in a reflex, and goose bumps broke out. He could tell she was terrified of him, but he had to check her out. At least, she was unharmed even if her muscles rippled under his fingers as she tried to get her arm free.

  It wasn’t a normal cuff, like a handcuff, but a locked metal band several inches wide and six blunt spikes were soldered into it, marking a star-burst pattern. He could barely reach that part, but his fingers brushed something else that made him yank away.

  “Lovie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s a metal cuff, and there are spikes so you can’t get it free,” said Jake as he heard her wiggling and grunting with the effort of trying. He was craving a cigarette and had a throbbing headache right in the center of his skull. His entire body ached, and he couldn’t find a better position. His stomach growled. If only he could have a smoke, eat something, get some aspirin, and lie down, he would be a happier person. Really, just food and something for his headache would be appreciated.

  As he fel
t of her arm with his hands, using his fingers carefully and gently to check the device, he felt sick to his stomach, aggravating the hunger pangs. With his own limb stretched out to the side, feeling of Lovie’s arm was like exploring his own, shackled leg. He could reach over and feel for the same cuff and same spikes that would prevent him from withdrawing his leg, but he didn’t want to feel that. He understood his own situation by examining hers.

  Nothing made sense. Jake didn’t know why he was there, how he had gotten there, or what it meant; he was as confused and frightened as Lovie and the other man who had yelled and accused Lovie of putting him in there. The man was to one side, and Lovie was to the other, but the man didn’t sound as close and thankfully, didn’t touch Jake.

  “I can’t budge it,” said Lovie as she ran her fingers around her arm and found the bars. She gulped for air. She was mentally fuzzy, or she would have discovered this sooner; she was in a cage with her arm stretched and locked in another cage. No matter how hard she pulled or how much she twisted, she couldn’t free herself. When she tried to pull back, metal creased her flesh, and there was no give. She had been too confused earlier to figure this out.

  “Keep trying. Maybe there is a way somehow to get the spikes sideways, and then you can get free,” explained Jake; he may have told her that, but he knew it wasn’t true; the shape of the apparatus kept her arm trapped. He couldn’t help her because he was cruelly twisted into a strange position. As soon as he awoke, slumped on the bars behind him, he had almost yelled from pain. He was aware that he was in his tee shirt and boxer shorts with no idea where his jeans were.

  Leg or arm? Which was worse to have cuffed? Jake didn’t know.

  Jake’s leg was at an L shape, as if he were doing the splits with only one leg, and the position was as painful as hell. His foot was in another cage, locked in place with another cuff and spike contraption. “Hello? Is there someone over there beside my foot? Can you hear me?” He moved around, trying to relieve the pressure on his leg muscles. He rubbed at his thigh, but his tailbone was numb, adding to his misery.

  Jake was trained to stay calm, to think logically, and to evaluate, but his own discomfort made it difficult for him to stay true to what he was skilled at. He waited for someone to respond to him. But no one answered him. So he tried to see inside, but there wasn’t enough light. Someone moved but didn’t speak, which was unnerving. He knew the unknown person had to be terrified.

  Not far from Jake, the man who had spoken before, called out, “What’s going on? I have an arm and hand here with me, and mine are somewhere else. Let me out of here, ya stupid shit heads. This isn’t funny. Let go of my arm.”

  “Is this arm yours?” a voice asked. It was a woman, and she poked his arm gently.

  “Yeah. Hey, Stop poking me. Let me loose, bitch,” the angry man yelled.

  “I would if I could, but don’t call me names.”

  “What do you mean you can’t? Huh? What’s that mean? Let me go.”

  “My leg is stretched out, and I’m not in a good mood. My head hurts, and my leg hurts, so you can stop yelling at me, okay?” She sounded as if she might cry, and that was how she felt. Tears were close.

  “Who are you?” Lovie called out. She was both glad and sorry to hear another voice, “I’m Lovie.” She tried to put her own fears aside, just for a second, and to reach out to someone who seemed to be more distressed; it tweaked her maternal instincts to hear anyone sound so afraid and confused, and she wanted to give comfort. The bad thing was that she couldn’t do anything to help except to talk.

  “Lovie? I’m Ruth. I am next to Mr. Personality and someone else. I think you are across from me and to the side.” Hearing a nice voice helped push back the fear a little, but she knew that the nice woman, Lovie, was scared and about to start crying, too. She didn’t understand anything. She decided that the rude man who called her a name was in the same situation as she was; in fact, all of them were.

  “I’m here, Ruth. Hang on. I’m sorry to meet you this way, but hello.”

  Ruth, shaking, managed a slight smile, “Thanks, I know what you mean. I’m glad you’re talking to us; it helps.”

  At first for some reason, she thought she didn’t remember what had happened, only that it was something terrible and that she had been cuffed in jail. Others were in there with her, also cuffed. But that was impossible. She knew she hadn’t been anywhere and done anything to cause an arrest. That determination only made her more confused, and the other scared voices added to that.

  Ruth tried to think. Someone next to her meant six cages, she thought. “Six of us, I think. Look, sorry, Mr. Personality, that I snapped at you, but seriously, don’t call me a bitch. I’m as nervous and jumbled as everyone else.”

  “There’s no need for that anyway,” Jake said, “don’t name-call, all right? You may be scared, but that’s no excuse. Let’s talk this over and figure it out.” He turned to the skills he was accustomed to: staying logical.

  “Scared? I’m pissed off. I want out,” the other man yelled, “and you’re a bitch, too,” he told Jake.

  “Thanks, I appreciate that.” Jake sighed, but a snicker escaped. He had been called worse. In his line of work, people usually were terrified and in pain, and how they reacted was always interesting but something that Jake had to work with. After accidents or violent situations, some people became defensive, and some became offensive. Some became both. Jake didn’t mind that the man called him names, but it was still uncalled for and could escalate alarm and anxiety. “Okay, there are six of us?”

  “Seven. I feel another hand. Hey, hello? It’s a man’s arm and hand, but he isn’t saying anything.” Lovie ran her hands over the arm locked into her own cage and wished he would say something. There was no movement, so either he was unconscious or dead. She shivered and asked, “Can you hear me, mister? Are you awake?”

  Lovie wondered what was happening to all of them. She knew it wasn’t a joke because there was a mean, strange edge to this situation and she had been in enough bad situations to know when one felt very wrong. The bars of the cage and the metal cuffs said to her that a lot of thought went into this abduction.

  Her nerves jumped. She might be trying to calm people, but she was hanging by a thin thread, trying to keep herself from losing control and crying hysterically. Why would anyone spend so much money to lock her in a cage?

  The thing her arm was locked in wasn’t just some simple pair of handcuffs but was an intelligently designed apparatus to hold her arm very secure. Again, that told her money and forethought were involved. Being tied with rope and thrown into a hay-filled barn would have been far less threatening than this elaborate set-up.

  She wasn’t rich or from a rich family, so it wasn’t about a hostage situation for money. She didn’t see how this was a sex crime either. That left Lovie with no ideas. Or no ideas that she wanted to explore.

  “Ruth? Lovie? Jake? I’m Mike. Can you hear me?”

  “Yes,” they responded at once. With each new voice, it was both reassuring not to be alone, but also weird. How did they know if a voice belonged to someone who put them there? Somehow, the more the situation had cost, the more disturbing it felt. They felt the same; it wasn’t just Lovie’s idea.

  Mike could tell he wasn’t close to them, but he wasn’t very far away. He said, “Try to be still until we understand more. Moving around could be dangerous. Let me try to feel around. His leg muscles ached from being stretched because he was also in a partial splits position. He got his legs closer together and felt relief. He tried everything, but his trapped leg wouldn’t come free. The front and back of the cage were close, so Mike guessed the cage was about three and half feet across, maybe less. Above his head, he could barely brush a barred top. It was like some horrible animal cage. He relayed that. “Feel around, and see if you’re in the same kind of cage.”

  “Why are we in cages?”

  “I don’t know, Lovie. Just feel around. What do you feel?” He liked
her voice. So far, she was calm and asking questions instead of panicking and accusing. He respected her for talking to the rest and trying to retain a semblance of normality.

  Unfortunately, he thought that far too soon; Lovie began sobbing loudly. He misunderstood when he thought she was okay and calm, but in reality, she was as afraid as the rest were. Everything was worse by the minute. Mike felt bad. “Come on, Lovie, try. You aren’t alone here. Even if I can’t touch you, I’m still here for you okay?” Mike called out.

  “Cages,” Lovie said the word. It was bad when she knew it, but worse now that someone else had said it.

  “It’s okay, Lovie. Be calm, okay? We need you to stay calm and help us think because you’ve done well so far. Hearing your voice helped me a lot. Mike, it’s Ruth again. I can feel around, and it’s a cage. Bars all over except for the bottom. Feels small. Is that what you have?”

  “Yeah, thanks, Ruth. I’m trying to stay calm but….”

  “I know, Mike, are you in one as well?” Ruth asked, “a cage?”

  “Maybe he’s just over there laughing at us. Huh? You laughing, Mike? Did you put us in here, asshole?” the angry man asked.

  “Shut up, Mr. Personality,” Ruth snapped, “Mike, I don’t feel much. I have a tiny door and lock, but I can’t tell much about anything. Lovie, is that what you feel? Come on, talk to us. We have to figure this out. Talk to us, Lovie.”

  “Why?” she asked as she sniffled. She had broken under the stress and was trying to pull herself back up and stay brave, but it was difficult.

  “Because that’s how we get out of this. Look, whoever you are, Mr. Personality, I don’t care about you or your theories about me. I am in a cage. That alone scares me because I don’t know how I got here. That’s later. I want out of here and fast. This whole set up scares me,” Mike yelled back. He liked the nickname Ruth had given the mean man. “Lovie, I know you’re afraid. We all are. I’m only trying to help figure this out. You sound smart, so help me, huh?”