10:49pm, Thursday, April 8

Despite the pain in his chest and how bright the kitchen lights were to his fuzzy vision, Jim sat tall and stared pointedly at the taller man as he worked at the kitchen bar. Gabe had moved Jim to the countertop too, having him sit on a bar chair at the end of the island with his hands rebound behind his back as he focused on crushing up a mix of pills to dissolve into some of that gross coconut water he insisted on drinking to “help Jim relax”. Gabe seemed to glance up out of habit but quickly looked down when he made eye contact with Jim. A capillary had burst in Jim’s left eye because, wouldn’t you know, violently choking someone can do that.

Looking at his half red eye clearly made Gabe uncomfortable and the sound of him grinding melatonin and maximum strength Excedrin into a powder had replaced the pathetic attempts at one-sided small talk with a man that he was literally hold here against his will. He angled his head toward the TV so that the lights overhead would highlight the hand shaped marks starting to form on his neck should Gabe choose to glance up again. Making him minorly uncomfortable was the only small amount of power Jim had right now.

Look at what you did to me, you psychopath….

Gabe sighed as he poured the powder into a large glass of coconut water and stirred vigorously, clearly ready to get this over with. He added a straw once he was satisfied with the mixture and set it on the counter in front of Jim. The tie was loosened and sagged from around his face to dangle around his shoulders. Jim licked his dry lips and worked his jaw experimentally.

He stared ahead and ignored the glass in front of him.

“Please drink that. You need to rest.” Gabe practically begged as he rubbed his forehead in exasperation.

“Why? For my busy day at work tomorrow?”, Jim rasped as sarcastically as he could, glaring at his captor out of the corner of his red eye. “Still trying to make that mugging story work?”

Gabe thumped his head against the fridge that he was leaning against.

“Why are you being so difficult?”

Ohmygoddidthisfuckerseriouslyjust….

“You attacked me. You kidnapped me. I have a concussion and you’re trying to get me to overdose on like ten extra strength pain killers. THAT’S WHY I’M BEING DIFFICULT!”

Jim made the mistake of raising his voice above a conversational level and subsequently dissolved into a painful coughing fit. Gabe waited until it subsided before he replied.

“So you’d prefer being kept up all night by the pain?”

“You know you’re not supposed to sleep when you have a concussion, right?” Jim whispered, throat burning. “I thought you were still undecided on the idea of killing me.”

Gabe scoffed.

“The science on that is bunk. It was proven recently that sleeping it off actually helps with the symptoms.” He said matter-of-factly.

“You could just take me to the hospital so a doctor can take care of me. Please, I won’t tell them that you did it.” He hammed up his desperation for more effect.

“That’s not an option anymore.” Gabe replied coolly.

Jim’s jaw clenched in frustration.

It was worth a shot, I guess.

He did NOT want to take his eyes off this man; he was at risk of getting beaten to death at any moment if Gabe’s mood fluctuations so far in the evening were anything to go off of. He glanced down at the glass in front of him, weighing his options.

If you drink it, it might please him and make him more sympathetic to you... Or he’ll kill you in your sleep…

Jim quickly decided that only one of the options had any real chance of reducing the pain inflicted on him.

“Can you, um… lift the glass for me? My neck… it hurts to bend down like that.” He muttered, dejectedly.

Gabe picked up the glass and held it close enough that Jim could reach the straw without assistance. The first sip hurt way more than expected, and he hissed, as his damaged throat muscles fought to swallow the slightly thick water.

“Take your time. You won’t be in pain by the time you’re done.” Gabe encouraged quietly.

Jim nodded, eyes squeezed shut, and leaned back in to keep drinking. He slowly sipped, one tiny gulp at a time. A little over halfway through he could feel the drugs starting to take effect. His body was sagging forward over the bar counter, eyes drooping. Gabe maneuvered himself around behind the chair so he could hold Jim’s torso up against his and make sure he kept sipping the mixture.

“Come on, you’re almost done. Keep going.”

Jim nodded weakly, the left side of his face pressed against Gabe’s button up. He only managed a few more sips before spitting out the straw.

“Jim you’re not done, keep drinking.”

“I can’t... I hafta… read CeCe a story. I promised.”

Gabe thought quickly and sat down the glass and adjusting them both so that Jim wasn’t on the verge of sliding off the side of the seat.

“Okay, well she’s ready for us now. Let’s go read her a bedtime story!” He added an excited tone for good measure.

Jim nodded, smiling weakly with his eyes half lidded. He let Gabe slide him off the chair and slip an arm between his bound arms and back for support. They stumbled awkwardly for a few steps towards the hallway with all the bedrooms before Gabe got impatient and adjusted to hook his arms under Jim’s armpits and clasp his hands across Jim’s chest. He could drag his weight reasonably comfortably without stooping and moved quickly to the bathroom before he lost his nerve.

He set Jim on the toilet, leaning his torso over the back to keep him from slumping forward or falling off to the side, before quickly running back into the kitchen and grabbing cleaning gloves, a garbage bag and a knife. He set everything down on the vanity, put on the gloves and then turned on the water to fill up the tub. Jim was tugging at his taped wrists and growing restless.

“Where’s CeCe? I want my daughter.”

Gabe turned back to him and put a gloved hand on his chest to prevent him from trying to stand again.

“She’s with Pam. You can read to her after your bath.”

He was literally pulling off Jim’s socks and unbuttoning his pants as he tried to placate him. Jim started to drowsily kick at him when he sliced the duct tape away from his arms and began unbuttoning his dress shirt. Gabe slipped his arms underneath his knees and back once Jim was stripped down to just an undershirt and boxer briefs.

“Get the fuck off of me, Gabe.” Jim muttered as he was lifted from the seat.

He didn’t reply, just focusing on moving as quickly as possible to get this over with. The tub wasn’t quite as full as he liked but it was nice and warm so he lowered Jim into it anyway, head resting on the edge. He grabbed a caddy from under the sink and set it down within reach and got to work.

He did everything he could think of to scrub his DNA from Jim’s body; cleaned underneath his fingernails then trimmed them, scrubbed his neck, face, arms and hands with soap and rubbing alcohol, thoroughly washed his hair. Gabe debated throwing his clothes away but decided against it. He hid the used pieces of duct tape at the bottom of the caddy, not knowing what to do with them but afraid of throwing it away since Jim’s DNA was on it. Jim stared blankly at the ceiling, not really reacting even when Gabe scrubbed at the swollen cut on his forehead but fighting to stay awake. As Gabe began putting his supplies up, he finally spoke.

“Don’t mutilate my body.”

Gabe whipped his head around from putting the nail tools back under the sink back to Jim. He had shifted his gaze from the ceiling and was staring right at Gabe.

“What?”

“You’re gonna kill me.”, he said slowly and matter of factly. “Don’t cut me up or-or anything. My-my girls…. Don’t need to see me like that.”

He lolled his head towards the wall as a few tears escaped his eyes.

“I’m sorry CeCe…”

Jim sighed and his breathing slowed as he finally succumbed to the pills.

The bathroom was dead silent. Gabe had to do it RIGHT. NOW.

He bit his lower lip nervously as he loomed over the prone form in the tub. All he had to do was push down on his shoulders and hold for a minute, a minute and a half, tops. Jim had already slid down a little when he passed out, his chin half submerged already. Just push him in a little further, and this will all be over…

His hands were quaking as he placed them on Jim’s collarbone.

“Come on, Gabe. Just do it.”, he muttered to himself, a hysterical twinge developing the more he spoke. “Just do it. It won’t take long, just don’t think about it.”

He adjusted to square his shoulders for a powerful shove but stopped himself at the last second, groaning in exasperation. He began hyperventilating, putting his hands on the back of his head to try and steady his breathing.

“God, why is this so hard? Why can’t I just kill you?”

Gabe genuinely seemed to be looking for an answer from Jim’s limp body. His hyperventilating intensified as he stared angrily at his unconscious victim. He suddenly twisted and drove his fist into the cabinet under the sink with a painful grunt. The wood splintered and barely scraped his knuckles through the gloves. Almost instantly, Gabe’s racing thoughts cleared, and his heart rate began to drop. He retracted his hand methodically and pivoted back to face Jim, wrapping both hands around Jim’s neck. He stared determinedly at Jim’s face, mouth twisted into a scowl, and willed himself to start squeezing.

He couldn’t. It was like his limbs were locked in place. He knelt there unmoving over Jim, his life literally in his hands, until the bathwater became frigid.

X-----X-----X

Opening his eyes slowly and seeing the tacky katana display on a shelf out of the corner of his eye told Jim that he hadn’t been murdered yet, he was just sleeping on the bed in Gabe’s “Man Cave”.

He wasn’t sure which was the worse deal.

All he could remember from after drinking the crushed pill solution was that at one point, he was certain Gabe was going to kill him and that he had asked (way too politely) for his body to not be desecrated. He didn’t all remember being moved to this bedroom, having his forehead bandaged, being untied and changing clothes. He still had his Philadelphia socks and work slacks, but his work shirt was replaced with an oversized diamond knit sweater (that was of course a turtleneck, because it’s Gabe’s). After shifting away from the light streaming in the window, he realized what he had originally mistook for his briefs was a pair of leggings or long johns.

Jim sat up quickly once it clicked.

WHY DON’T I HAVE MY UNDERWEAR?

He began to frantically checked his hips and arms for bruising when Gabe unlocked the door and came in. Jim shoved himself back against the headboard and tucked his knees up to his chest while looking at Gabe with wide eyes. He was already dressed for work but seemed exhausted and didn’t notice that Jim was distraught. He simply walked over to the window to shut the blinds and close the curtain before offering Jim a drink.

“It’s a smoothie with bananas, pineapple and strawberry. I hope you’re not allergic. I don’t think you should be eating solid food yet given that…”, he paused and pointedly stared at the purple bruises forming on Jim’s neck before continuing. “…given that you’ve been choked a lot recently.”

Jim didn’t take the glass, he just glared up at him.

It triggered Gabe’s “switch” again.

“Look I’m running late and was up practically all night covering my tracks so no one traces me back to you. I’ll give you five minutes to drink this and then I have to lock you up for the day and you’ll have to wait until I’m off work to eat anyth-“

“Did you touch me?”

Gabe blanched, eyes narrowing and tilting his head at the question.

“Excuse me?” There was a dangerous edge to his voice. Jim gulped before speaking again.

“You changed my clothes while I was drugged. I’m not wearing my briefs anymore. Did you r-ra…”

“Did I rape you?” Gabe spat, finishing for him.

Jim nodded, trying not to hyperventilate while waiting for his response. He delicately sat down the smoothie on the nightstand and turned back to Jim.

“What if I did?” he asked ominously, shifting closer to his captive’s huddled form. “What are you going to do about it?”

He was kneeling on the bed, palms on either side of Jim’s knees, leaning over him. He fought against the urge to turn his head away.

“Cry? Make some snarky little comment? Complain to your supervisor?”

Jim let out a small sob, the irony not lost on him that he was in this predicament because of that last one.

“That’s what I thought.” Gabe muttered, drawing back and standing up again. “You have about thirty seconds to drink that. I‘m going to get the tape.”

He strolled out casually, rubbing at the bags rubbing at the bags under his eyes. As if it was a normal thing to start your day tying someone up after threatening to rape them.

Jim sipped at the smoothie just to give himself something to do and not think so much about what could possibly happen to him while trapped here over the weekend.

“Give me the glass. I’ll refrigerate it and you can finish it later.” Gabe set the tape down briefly to snatch the glass and set it off to the side before turning back to Jim. “Foot of the bed, hands behind your back.”

Jim followed the instructions numbly, scooting away from the headboard and letting his feet hang off the edge. Gabe moved to kneel in front of him quickly binding his ankles. Jim kicked at his face once, but it was caught effortlessly, and the glare Gabe sent him made him want to curl up in a ball and disappear. He shifted to sit behind Jim and bound his wrists before excessively gagging him by wrapping the tape around his head several times. Jim rolled his eyes; he was ready to be left alone to stew about his fate for an entire workday.

But Gabe didn’t get up, just yet.

He scooted closer, unfolding his long legs and bracketing Jim’s with his. He wrapped an arm around his waist and the other around his neck, pulling Jim’s torso flush against his chest.

“I was planning on drowning you, so I gave you a bath in your underclothes.” Gabe whispered in his ear slowly. “I didn’t rape you last night.”

Gabe squeezed Jim’s neck slightly and sighed before he continued.

“But that doesn’t mean I won’t.”

Jim couldn’t breathe, even if Gabe’s forearm hadn’t been compressing his trachea.

Gabe released him and stood up, smoothing out his shirt and adjusting his tie.

“I’ll try to be home early. I’ll grab us a bite to eat. Hope you like veggie pot pie!”

He cannot be this psychotic. He cannot just be acting like we’re roommates…

Gabe grabbed the smoothie glass and turned to him one last time before locking the door.

“This’ll be in the fridge. Don’t try anything while I’m gone.”

Jim waited for the lock to scrape closed and the sound of Gabe’s footsteps to fade away into silence before letting the breath he’d been holding out his nose and pressing his forehead into his knees to try and control his growing panic and will himself to stop shaking.

Please, God, somebody find me. Pam. Dwight. Just anybody….