Chapter 2: Captivus

Luke was dreaming. He was surrounded by naked super-models, each giving him little kisses and feeding him grapes, and pouring wine from a golden pitcher past his lips while he fought to stop laughing at one of their jokes. He shifted. He was then lying on warm furs while the air had the distinctive smell of wood smoke, a blonde blue-eyed Nordic goddess with a tower of golden curls and wearing a soft doe-skin tunic was lifting it over her head and revealing all of her body for him, whispering that she was his now as she mounted him, fingers kneading his chest at times, then fingers turning into claws as they scratched and gouged, drawing rivulets of dark red free-flowing over his skin.

He shifted. His vision was blocked this time; his head was pushed hard against a woman’s breast, and he felt the hand that kept his head pushed against it, nipple in his lips as he was held there. He shifted again. He was being dragged to hell by laughing demons, gripping his legs as they pulled him closer and closer to the giant gaping maw colored in orange fire, the teeth waiting to sink in...

He screamed and sat straight up in his bed, yelling and fighting a tentacled creature that was trying to pull him deeper into hell.

“LUKE! WAKE UP!” He heard his mother yelling at him. Hands all over him to try and keep him from hurting himself.

He forced his eyes open, shaking and stuttering, his eyes flickering from one person to the next, recognizing none of them before they landed on his mother and recognition bloomed, her hair loose and wearing sweat pants and one of her old Van Halen concert shirts, her look one of concern and worry.

He started shivering; he couldn’t seem to help it. His teeth were chattering, and He tucked his head downward, closing his eyes, he heard his mother almost hissing with disdain at someone. Laying back, curling up, he felt her get up, then voices, he didn’t hear what they were saying; he only heard furious whispering, the door slamming, and then he felt the bed move as his mother sat at the head, then she was pulling his head to her chest as she started rocking and crooning to him, and he slept.

“YOUR GODDAMN MOTHER IS NOT WELCOME HERE ANYMORE!”

Barely opening his eyes as the sun slowly filtered through the beige lacy curtains on his window, his head ached from the light, similar to a hangover but not quite as bad. He slowly moved his eyes here and there, seeing his mother shouting and arguing with his father, his mother looking like she had not slept at all.

“Jeannie honey, I know she can be a hard-ass, but she...” Rob said trying to reason with his wife.

“NEVER! You know what she did! She abused our son horribly! All because she is a selfish and evil old CUNT that wanted to GET OFF!” She stood there with her back to Luke, shouting and glaring at her husband, fists at her side, clenched and trembling.

“It’s not like that, and you damn well know it, Jeannie! She would never risk anyone being seriously hurt! You heard what Harriet said; she said it would all come out of his system in a day or two, and the bruises will heal, no harm done!” He held his palms up and outward shrugging his shoulders as he tried to mollify his wife.

“Harriet that sadistic fucking cunt is almost as bad as Linda is! Luke was almost frozen and in shock when we got him inside; Kim and Jane helped me get him to his room and into his bed. I told all of them that the night was over and that should have been the end of it! And what happened? They drugged me! Then they dragged my baby boy back to that goddamn room and did whatever they wanted with him! AND YOU FUCKING HELPED HER! FUCK ALL OF YOU!” She screamed as her fingers curled and started hitting him and clawing for his eyes.

Rob ducked as he threw his arms up to protect his face, retreating to the hallway quickly, his forearms taking deep scratches before he could make good his escape down the hall.

His mother slammed the door and beat on it several times before she broke down again and put her head on the old oak door and sobbed quietly.

Luke’s vision was dimming and blurring; he didn’t understand, and he blacked out again before he could.

He was moving this time, he wasn’t dreaming, his head was in someone’s lap.

“Make sure you see the acting chairman tomorrow morning first thing, then meet me at the bank at 10. Once that’s done, I’m calling a board meeting at 2. The rumor mill will start up, but that can’t be helped; by next Monday, the ball will be rolling. Kim will stay with Luke until we get done.” He heard his mother talking to someone, he couldn’t see from his position. He tried stretching his arm but found he was still very weak for some reason. He drifted back to troubled slumber.

Luke opened his eyes. The room was dark, the shades had been pulled and curtains were blocking out most of the natural light that seeped in around the edges. He found himself buried under thick quilts and soft sheets with a warm body clad only in a t-shirt curled against him, one leg thrown across his belly, thigh on his hip. He was naked beneath the covers, his clothes having disappeared long before it seemed. He looked down into a mass of golden strands, smelling like his mother’s shampoo, that tell-tale floral scent that only she ever had for as long as he could remember. He looked around the room without moving. The room was peach-colored, with white trim around the doors and windows; for some reason, the color scheme made him think of cupcakes. This caused his belly to rumble, reminding him he had no idea when he had eaten last.

He gently eased out from under her, sliding his body over so as not to wake her, easing her head down on the pillow as gently as he could. He sat there on the edge of the bed, looking at his mother’s face. He wasn’t sure what to think; he didn’t even know what the hell happened; well, he knew some, just ... not all. He sighed to himself, slipped out of bed, and started looking around the closet until he found some sweatpants and a shirt that fit. He winced a few times as he pulled the cloth over some sore spots, his muscles aching still. He didn’t see his shoes and had no idea where his wallet was.

He was still weak, his body felt dehydrated and his nerves sent little shocks of pain through his legs, and arms as he shuffled into the hallway, his hand braced and sliding on the wall to keep from losing his balance, his left leg was sore for some reason, he could put weight on it, it just was a little bit worse than the other. He got to the end, panting slightly as he surveyed the area. The kitchen was to his right, spacious and open, complete with an island and a stylish table and dining room chairs to the side.

To his left, there was what appeared to be a living room with a couch, loveseat, coffee table, and what appeared to be a couple of recliners, all in the same modern tone as the dinette. He looked across in front and saw another hallway. One of the doors was open, but he still saw no one. He recognized the place now; it was his sister Jane’s three-bedroom apartment; she lived two hours away in Redflag, and he had stayed with her one weekend when he had been checking out universities.

He fumbled with the coffee pot as he moved over to the kitchen counter, close to the sink. He set the pitcher in the sink, filled it with water, and gripped it. He had made coffee hundreds of times, yet the little thick-glass insulated pot felt like a 50-pound weight; he felt his wrist bending down, but he managed to fill the coffee maker’s tank and set it under the spout. He took a breath, realizing even that small effort had caused him to breathe harder. After resting a moment, he looked through the cabinets until he found several types of grounds. He smelled each one till he found one that had an almost sweet roasted smell with a hint of vanilla; he filled the filter, closed it, and turned it on, holding onto the counter, watching it drip.

Luke kept licking his lips; his mouth was dry and gritty, his throat didn’t seem as sore as it should have been, and it felt scratchy ... and then he was suddenly a man dying of thirst. He stopped watching the coffee and grabbed a cup from the cabinet, filling it and suddenly gulping the water as fast as he could get it. After 8 cups, his stomach felt almost bloated; he set the cup down and looked at the coffee dripping, and then he threw his head into the sink and started heaving. Everything was coming back up, burning his throat slightly; he heaved until he was dry-heaving, and then he panted, head on the edge of the sink.

He took a moment, calming himself as much as he could. Then he took his cup and filled it with water again; this time, he sipped on it very slowly as if it were hot coffee. Maybe in the back of his mind, that’s what he knew he needed to do; maybe that’s why he thought of coffee first; he would be forced to take it slow. He shook his head, thinking hurt at the moment and he just wanted to sit there with something warm and familiar in his hands and not think.

The pot had filled enough to finally get a cup without it being too strong, and after adding a little cream, he sat down with his back to the wall, facing the living room and hallways. He watched the light as tiny motes of dust drifted past, little rays peaking through the blinds and the light maroon curtains.

He sat there for a while, he didn’t really know how long, he didn’t look at any clocks, he didn’t pay attention to any of the digital numbers on the stove and the fancy refrigerator, he just sipped his coffee, not thinking, just existing for the moment.

He was staring at the pattern of the trim at the edge of the room when he felt someone softly place a hand on the back of his neck. He jumped, flinging his cup through the air, seeing it shatter, its contents painting the wall. Then the room changed, he fell over, and suddenly he heard laughter, all around him, then a laughing woman was on top of him; her hand held a long leather strap, pulling it, yanking it, lights dancing before him, he couldn’t get air; she wouldn’t let him breathe! He started choking; he couldn’t breathe! He yanked and pulled and fought but his arms wouldn’t move! He gasped and shuddered, fighting for air; he couldn’t breathe!

He was underwater suddenly, drowning, and then he broke the surface, gulping in deep breaths, he squeezed his eyes shut, trembling, and he heard them.

“LUKE! LUKE!” He felt hands on his shoulders, shaking him. He looked up, recognizing his mother kneeling next to him franticly moving her hands over his face, then noticed his sister, Jane, with a dripping bowl in her hands, and Kim crying softly as she looked down at him, all of them in their sleeping attire staring at him. He felt the wetness, sitting in a puddle, his eyes flickered to the bowl in his sister’s hands. Taking deep shuddering breaths, he tried to calm down, trying to relax. His mother pulled him into a hug, pulling his head to her breast, rocking him.

“We should never have left you and Luke there Momma...” Jane sniffled as she started cleaning up while Jeannie rocked Luke, whispering sweet words in his ears.

“Shhh, not right now; we can blame ourselves later; Luke needs us now.” She kissed the top of his head and urged him up into a chair.

She rubbed Kim’s shoulder as she passed by and got more cups from the cabinet, pouring coffee for each. Setting them down on the table and passing them out. She moved her chair to touch Luke’s and wrapped her arm around his waist while he sat there, staring at the cup she pushed into his hands. Finally, after a minute of urging, she got him to start sipping it, little by little. Jane finished scrubbing the wall and mopping by then, she sat close to Kim, watching their mother and brother.

Jeannie leaned against him, rubbing his back now, sipping her coffee when he did, letting things happen at his pace.

It was a little while and several cups of caffeine later that he finally spoke.

“What happened?” In a deep strained voice. Sadness flooded her when she heard him speak. She heard the damage and the maturity in his voice, the latter was something that shouldn’t be there yet, that didn’t need to be there yet. Her little boy was gone.

She didn’t answer for a minute, then her arm around his waist pulled him to her tighter.

“Something that was not supposed to Luke... “Then she just started speaking, revealing everything to him. She started at the beginning, her reasons, what went on and had been going on; she told him everything; she laid herself and their whole family bare, exposed, for him to see every last dirty detail.

She told him about the way the family took a literal approach to sex education for both the girls and boys, she told them girls at 16 and boys at 15, like some used to do in the old days. She told him about the family all getting together for fun every so often, including the holidays, it’s just something they had been doing for generations. She told him about how she tried so many times to explain things to him but with her work and the family and him being such a busybody, she just never had found the right time. With him missing the holidays and going to college so early, she felt like he was slipping away faster and faster, and she got desperate. And that led to her despair.

Her mother-in-law was always the type that could solve problems or come up with solutions, so she spoke with Linda, and they talked and tossed ideas around until Linda proposed the best way would be to just get him drunk, and then Luke and Jeannie could have a wild night of passion free of worry. The next day, if Luke didn’t respond favorably to it, then no harm was done; There would be embarrassment and some awkward times, but eventually they would get past it, then they’d just forget about it and go back to normal. Then Cindy suddenly came back into the picture. His mother knew he wouldn’t drink enough at the party that night; he would stay sensible, thinking of spending time with his ex-girlfriend.

So again, she talked to Linda, who said Harriet could take care of it; she had something that worked just as well and was very similar to being intoxicated with virtually the same effects as booze. She spoke to Harriet earlier that day and asked if it was safe and she had assured her it was. Jeannie had given her permission to go ahead. She was that desperate. She hadn’t known Dave was the one who was supposed to give him the dope; she didn’t even know what Harriet cooked up; she just trusted her and Linda, something she never should have done.

Jeannie sniffled a few moments, sitting there, collecting her thoughts.

“Then what happened, after ... they dragged me...” Luke rasped out the words slowly and gripped the table momentarily, remembering that train of demons, laughingly dragging him to hell.

She took a deep breath and then continued. She had picked him up by his shoulders that night, trying to get him inside the house while their tipsy relatives made vulgar jokes and kept saying mean and disgusting things while they got him inside. She had grabbed him by the waist and made Jane and Kim take a leg each as they got him to his bed, stripping his clothes off and getting him tucked in. She had told everyone that nothing was going to happen, to all leave, and the night was over. Then Jeannie had stripped and wrapped herself around him under the covers to further help; he was so cold that they were afraid he would get hypothermia.

“You were like a block of ice; I was terrified, Luke ... You were mumbling and groaning in your sleep; I was trying everything to keep you warm; I even had Kim and Jane drive to the 24-hour Walmart an hour away and a town over to get some little space heaters and heating blankets.” She shuddered then and went on.

She had held him after her daughters had left, just a few minutes before Linda came in with a pot and tea cups. Jeannie had been shivering under the blankets with him and she welcomed the added warmth. Sitting up in bed and sipping hers while her mother-in-law talked soothingly. She sipped and got more and more drowsy. She saw Linda smile.

“We know how to warm him up quick, don’t we, Ladies?” That evil fucking smile and her reaching was all Jeanie remembered.

She clenched her fist in her lap, trembling with rage. She took a moment then told him the rest. Jane and Kim had found that their car wouldn’t start when they came out of the store. Somehow, the distributor cap had shattered, and it took a tow truck driver an hour to get there; he said it looked like someone had taken a hammer to it. Someone had disabled the alarm, unlocked the car, and opened the hood from inside. No one they called answered their phones, it all went straight to voice mail. The driver had to drive an hour away to get the part they needed and another hour back. While they were stranded, his grandmother and most of the female relatives took him downstairs to the basement, where she had her fun room set up earlier discreetly.

“And Harriet always had special mixes; she loved doing it, she loved being that special...” Jeanie whispered, looking down at the table, fist resting atop it.

When Jeannie managed to awaken, she found Luke back in the bed beside her, reeking of stale sweat and feverish. She smelled them on him, their dried secretions. She saw the marks and bruises and scratches and spots on his body, she shuddered when she saw it all. She had started crying and hugging him to her body, knowing what had happened and it was her fault. Jane and Kim found her there not even an hour later, just after daybreak, both dead-tired from the trip and with no sleep.

When they walked in and saw his condition they were instantly awake and alert. Jeannie told them what had happened and what she suspected had happened to their brother. She just kept silently rocking him, kissing the top of his head every few minutes. Jane told Kim to stay with them and to lock the door behind her.

Jane took up the story at that point telling him of how she had gotten so angry she felt white hot and then just let it morph into a coldness. She left the room, walking down the hallway to the stairs, and heard laughter from the kitchen, so she walked on and stopped in. Her grandmother was there, dressed in a simple silk robe with her father and a couple of her cousins, all dressed similarly to her grandmother.

“So is the boy still alive?” Rob, laughing, joked to his daughter.

“He is barely breathing...” She had answered him honestly, just staring at him with a blank look.

They all laughed as if it were the funniest thing they had ever heard, her grandmother giggling as she took another bite of the bagel she was holding.

Jane didn’t respond; she just looked at each of them a moment as they laughed, and then she turned and walked up the stairs to the second floor, down the hall, entering her grandmother’s room. She went inside and then opened the double doors to the balcony. She wasn’t angry now, she was just numb, but she had a job to do, so she got started. She took her grandmother’s clothes first, tossing them over the side, then her suitcases, then her jewelry, her perfume, her soaps and shoes, and even her mattress and box springs, the bed and the furniture that was in the room Linda had picked out to make her more comfortable when she visited, all taken apart, broken down and shoved over the side.

She heard the noise but didn’t care; she knew they wouldn’t bother to see what it was; they were just that negligent, she saw that now. She tossed her paintings and pictures out, even the curtains and the rug, she ripped and tugged and pulled it all up until no trace of her remained. Until the room was stripped bare.

She went back downstairs and heard their continued laughter but didn’t stop; she went over to the study and took her father’s gold zippo lighter from his cigar box she had gotten him for Father’s Day years past and tucked it in her pocket. As she got to the front door, she took her grandmother’s keys from the shelf and tucked them away as she walked out the front.

Bit by bit she dragged and pulled and carried everything over to her grandmother’s new Mercedes sitting on the edge of the paved drive, barely a year old, she piled it all on, then she took the gas can she had scavenged from the gardener’s shed and doused it all, lighting it with her Dad’s gold lighter as she tossed it onto the pile.

She was standing thirty feet away when the tank blew. A wave of heat blew past her, and a shard of glass scratched her cheek, but she didn’t feel it; she just watched it burn to the ground. She heard yelling and shouting, hands grabbing her and pulling her back, surprise and anger tinting their voices, yelling demanding to know what she had done, why? She looked at her grandmother, those big green eyes blazing in her aged beautiful face, wrinkles prominent as she squinted in anger.

“You did enough, Linda; I still have a long way to go.” Jane punched her right on the bridge of her nose, breaking it. Jane herself didn’t remember much else in that little scene except clawing and scratching at Linda, screaming in her face while she lay on the ground trying to cover her head with Jane atop her. Rob had dragged her off and later when the police got there, they arrested her.

She remembered being handcuffed and led away. The fire department had put the fire out, and the paramedics had treated Linda for the broken nose and deep scratches Jane had given her. Rob had bailed her out later that day, yelling at her all the way home, wondering how in the hell he was going to keep his mother from pressing charges.

She had gotten home and found no one except her and Kim, with Kim saying Luke was still passed out and Jeannie was still with him. Their father had left to go check on his mother and to try to convince her that she shouldn’t press any charges, that Jane was suffering from a hormonal imbalance. She said their father never once asked about Luke or how he was, since that morning they were joking in the kitchen.

Then Jeannie resumed telling him how they had kicked their father out later that day after learning that he had been the one who disabled Jane’s car. Stranding her and effectively keeping her and Kim out of the way while the family ‘Made a Man out of little Luke.’

Luke stared at the table the whole time, not speaking, hands clenching and unclenching, appearing to try to work through it in his mind.

None of them were there, but they had heard the whispers and had the 30-second phone conversations of regretful family members who had participated. Luke’s grandmother had a little area down in the basement, her playroom as she called it, none of them had known she had set it up that day. One of the side unused rooms, a little over 15x20’, just enough for her couches and rugs. She had her other son Garret, drill in and anchor some ring bolts into the solid concrete floor. Luke never even knew the place existed.

Jeanie stopped talking when she got to that part. She knew what had happened, she just didn’t want to give voice to it. She hugged Luke around his stomach, just holding him.

“And you know what happened after that Luke...” She cried silently leaning her head against his shoulder.

Luke nodded, not saying a thing, he could only remember flashes, but that was enough, he knew.

Kim spoke up then.

“We had Lucinda, a nurse we know to come look at you. She blew up at us, demanding to know why you weren’t in the hospital and why we weren’t filing charges. She and Mom talked, and Mom explained things; she told us to call her if you got worse.”

“We’re here, Luke; we’ll BE here, as long as you need us.” She looked at him then, her eyes sad but with a determined look in them as well.

They sat like that for a time, and then Jeannie suggested they move to the couch, and they all nodded.

Luke sat in the middle, Jeannie to his side, Kim to the other, and Jane cleaned up whatever was needed in the kitchen.

No one said anything for a while; Jane came and tucked her knees under her on the loveseat, just watching them; Luke just stared at the coffee table, his mother and Kim snuggled to his side, glancing at his face, concern still crossing their features.

“I can’t let this go.” He eventually whispered, feeling a little strength returning to his voice, the coffee and moisture helping.

Jeannie looked up at him and nodded.

“Just rest for now, baby. Just heal and get stronger.” Leaning over she turned his face to hers and kissed him on his forehead, letting it linger a moment, then sat back down, laying her head on her shoulder, holding his arm between her breasts, stroking it softly.

They sat there for a while, then Luke’s stomach rumbled.

He took a deep breath. Clearing his throat a moment, then speaking softly so as not to strain his vocal cords.

“I need to get out of here”

Jeannie looked at him alarmed

“What do you mean baby?”

Luke gave her a small smile and continued with that soft low speech.

“I’ve been cooped up for a few days; we should go get some breakfast, maybe a walk, and some sun.”

Some of the concern left her face and she nodded

“If you feel you’re up to it, then we will, baby, but if you need to then we stop and come home immediately, okay?”

He nodded and slowly got to his feet, feeling a sharp pain in his left leg, no doubt where they shot him, he did feel a bit stronger now than when he first got up, like his body was coming back to life. He did frown a moment, though; he suddenly realized he didn’t know if he had any clothes or not; he looked down at his mother with a questioning look, pinched the shirt, and pulled it away from him. She understood and nodded.

“Kim stuffed two duffle bags full of your clothes when we got you out of that house. Jane and I washed, dried, and folded them for you yesterday for when you were ready to get up. Your wallet is in the bedside table in our room, and your keys as well.”

Kim had shown him where they were in the guest room; one whole dresser and one side of the closet were all his clothes, along with a pair of hiking boots, a pair of sneakers, and some slip-ons under the edge of the bed.

“Sorry if I didn’t get the right stuff, we just wanted you out of that damn place as fast as possible,” She said, frowning but hoping she had got what he wanted.

“This is fine doll, thanks” Luke nodded in gratitude.

He put together a change of clothes and laid them on the bed and then limped and made his way to the bathroom, his mother and Jane following him. He just looked at them for a moment.

“I’ll be fine; I’ve been feeling stronger since I got up, I promise.” He gave them that small fake smile of his.

They looked at him, then at each other, and nodded.

“We’ll be right outside, ok baby?” His mother said softly.

He nodded, then waited until they closed the door before he undressed and looked into the floor-length mirror.

They were several days old, but what he saw just confirmed what he saw in his dreams. Scratch marks everywhere, old and fading, bruises where he had been hit with something repeatedly, turning yellowish now, the damage healing slowly. Scabs over bite marks on one of his nipples where one of them drew blood, and a couple more on his stomach. He tilted his head up and saw the mark on his neck, puffy but fading as well. It looks like I cheated the hangman.

He turned on the water and adjusted it till it was just shy of too hot and climbed in. He hissed when the hot spray drenched some of his wounds, especially his cock, he happened to glance down and saw it scabbed over in some places, he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding; thankfully, his balls weren’t that tender, and rubbing the soap in stung like crazy. He knew now why they wanted to help him. It was a little painful bending and moving still, but he was glad he sent them out; the faster he got over the pain, the better he could function. When he was sufficiently clean, he got out and toweled himself off, scrubbing his head a little more than necessary, but that had always been the best part of the shower; his mother once laughed about it and told him he acted like a dog, having a good scratch when he toweled his hair dry.

He stood over the sink in the full glow of the lights, focusing on his face, and he saw how he looked like he hadn’t eaten in weeks instead of days. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his cheeks were hollowed quite a bit. He managed to shave his almost week-old beard with no issues, his hand shook frequently, and he dropped the razor a few times, which caused his mother and Jane to ask if he was ok a few times; he affirmed he was and managed to get through the rest of his grooming satisfactorily, only nicking himself once. He wrapped the towel around himself and walked out. Both his mother and sisters both smiled when they saw him, he nodded that he did indeed feel better as well as look better.

He limped back to his room, favoring his left leg, and started getting dressed; his mother helped him put his underwear and jeans on; he thought there was nothing wrong with that; after all, she had been seeing him naked for days now. He sucked in his breath a little as she pulled the front of the boxer briefs out, making sure the waistband wouldn’t rub the red skin prevalent on his pelvis slipping them on; he breathed a sigh of thanks to her.