Owned - Poor Harry
I was out one night when my life changed. My name is—well, was—Harry. I hit a few bars with my friends, cracking jokes and knocking back drinks. At eighteen and decently good-looking, nights out were my fishing trips—a chance to reel in a girl. Most weekends, I brought a girl back to my parents' place and had my fun, always slipping them out before morning light revealed any mischief.
A few girls tried to cling to me, but I always ghosted them. I was too young to be shackled by commitment. One quirk about me: if I lose my mates on a night out and haven't pulled, I bail. I guess I hate being alone.
That one night—I discovered later my mates were just at the bar—I didn't see them. I stood in the club's shadows, wondering where they'd gone. Maybe, in another life, I'd have searched for them through the throngs. Ten yards and a wall of people changed everything. But I didn't wait.
I shrugged into my coat, left the club, never noticing the two large men shadowing me. Fifty, sixty yards down an empty stretch, shuffling feet followed. Didn't think much of it—the streets had plenty of drunk people wandering around.
Passed a line of taxis, wondering if I should grab one. I hadn't spent much, and the walk was thirty minutes. But again, fate twisted my arm. I walked to save cash.
The further I walked, the louder the footsteps grew. Out of town now, the road always deserted on my rare walks home. Yet tonight, the rhythm of another's steps echoed louder.
I wasn't a fighter, just a well-built guy, jittering with fear. The thought of an ambush churned my gut. I quickened my pace. Fear climaxed when streetlights vanished, and then—
A hand clamped on my shoulder.
My entire world froze as I was spun around. Standing before me were two huge, intimidating men. I was nearly six feet tall, but they towered over me. Both wore black jeans and leather jackets clinging to their large frames, one sporting a short black beard while the other had a shaved face. Their short black hair glistened in the dim light.
Instinctively, I reached for my wallet, intending to hand it over. I had only a little cash and nothing worth fighting for. But as my fingers brushed the leather, a massive hand clamped around my wrist.
"Guess it's our lucky night," the one holding my wrist grumbled, his grip so massive it wrapped around my forearm.
"You shouldn't be walking alone at night," the other one said, flashing a wide, unsettling grin.
"You... you can have my money," I stammered, my voice shaky. "Just please don't hurt me."
The grip on my wrist tightened and yanked my arm up.
"Oh, we don't want your money," the one holding me snarled.
The other moved beside him, so close that their bodies nearly brushed against me.
"Oh no, we have much better plans for you," he whispered menacingly.
A rag was suddenly thrust over my face, cutting off my breath. Darkness swallowed me.
--
When I came to, my head was foggy, eyes fluttering open to a dim room.
"Urgh," I grunted, slowly sitting up.
I was on a bed, but it wasn't mine.
"Where am I?" I mumbled to myself, scanning the unfamiliar room.
Attempting to rise, I felt a pull. Leather cuffs circled my wrists, thick leather straps fetching them to the headboard. I could move but couldn't leave the bed.
What the hell is going on? I thought, panic bubbling in my chest.
Memories of the two men flooded back, and my body trembled. I started sweating, fear gnawing at my insides.
"Help!" I yelled with all my strength.
I struggled against the restraints, trying desperately to break free, but they were unyielding, and I was weakening.
"Someone help me!" I bellowed again, voice cracking with desperation.
The more I fought, the more exhausted I became. Breathless and panicked, I heard a vibration. Turning my head, I spotted my phone on a nearby desk, just out of reach, flashing with an incoming call from my friend James. In bondage, all I could do was watch as the call went unanswered.
I'm gonna die, I thought. The fear of death loomed as the worst possibility.
When the lone door to this windowless room clicked and began to open, my heartbeat thundered in my chest.
Light crept in, outlining the silhouette of a large, stocky man in the doorway.
"Let me out!" I cried, thrashing futilely against my binds.
"Oh, little one," a deep voice resonated, "you aren't going anywhere."
The silhouette entered, followed by another. Their faces emerged from the shadows, revealing the two men who had accosted me.
"What... what do you want?" I whispered, knowing my helplessness. They had me, and there wasn't much I could do.
Each step they took made my heart pound faster.
"Oh, you'll find out soon enough," whispered the one with the beard.
"Are you going to kill me?" I asked, though dread curdled inside me at the potential answer.
They laughed, stopping right next to the bed as I edged backward to avoid them.
"No," said the beardless one, "we aren't going to kill you."
A snake tattoo coiled on his neck caught my eye as they exchanged knowing glances and nodded, their smiles wide and sinister.
"Paul," the bearded man asked, "would you like to do the honors?"
"Sure thing, Dan," Paul replied.
In an instant, Paul lunged forward and seized me. I desperately tried to fight and kick, but he effortlessly pinned me down, pressing the air out of my lungs. A surge of fear coursed through me as I felt the chill of cold steel against my skin concealed beneath my jeans, intensifying my struggle.
"Stop moving!" Paul bellowed, his weight suffocating me. "Wouldn't want to cut you."
Paul, a massive and robust man, rendered my futile resistance worthless. Eventually, I ceased my kicking and felt the sharp blades of scissors cutting through my jeans. To my relief, he was only cutting through the fabric, sparing me from harm.
