The Jacal House

When I was 18 years old, I was kidnapped. Except, it wasn't your typical kidnapping. There was no ransom call, no revenge plot, nothing. Nothing except a couple of seriously fucked up, twisted minds of some seriously fucked up, twisted psychopaths.

It was the summer after I graduated high school. My best friend Lacy and I embarked on a 2 month backpacking trip through Europe the day school got out. We were going all over the place; Great Britain, France, Amsterdam, Scandinavia, Italy, Romania... everywhere. Except we never got past our first destination. Or at least I didn't. I still don't know what Lacy did when I didn't show back up at the hostel that night. I can't imagine she continued the journey alone. I'd like to think that she went straight home to start a search party for me, but I'll never know.

Even now that I'm free, I can never go home. As far as I'm concerned, Peter Shay is dead and gone forever. I don't know who I am now, but I do know that I could never bring myself to look into the eyes of anyone from my old life. I've just been transformed into such a different being. The humiliation hiding within my soul would kill me if I ever had to confront my old friends, much less my family.

So Rest in Peace, Peter Shay, because from this moment forward, he is just a memory. I don't think I'll ever be recognized. My once lanky but strong physique is long gone. My short straight brown hair is so now so frayed and patchy, I couldn't be recognized my it. Parts of it are long and other short, like a dog after having several surgeries. My muscles, if I ever had any, are far gone. At one point during my... ordeal... I had the biggest muscles of my life. But when that took some of the power from my captors and intimidated them, they starved me of any sort of exercise, and my muscles con caved. And then there is the fact of the way I carry myself has changed drastically. I use to be confident, for the most part. Outgoing, for sure. Nobody intimidated me because only my own opinion mattered. But those days are long gone. I now find myself cowering at simply car horns, or dog barks. I always look around corners before I turn them and I find it nearly impossible to make any sort of eye contact with anybody. No, nobody will ever recognize me. I'm a new man. A weaker one.

And now I'll share my story. Every detail is engraved vividly in my memory, even though I'd give anything to forget them all. I read once that my writing things out, it helps to organize your thoughts and make you feel better. So here I am, with nothing to do, sitting in a cafe at the train station with no particular destination, and I will share my story. In all the grimy and horrific detail as well, so if you aren't prepared to feel very uncomfortable, then stop now.

Lacy and I flew into London, England on June 1st. We landed early in the day, but spent most of the rest of it trying to figure out the train system to get to our hostel. I'd never been out of the country before, so naturally I was a bit nervous. But only so. My excitement for exploring the world without parents or rules was overwhelming my nerves. I think Lacy felt the same.

We checked into our hostel around 7 o'clock and then headed out to a bar to get our first legal alcohol. We felt like such foolish American tourists, getting tipsy off one pint and being so excited over being able to order alcohol, but we were having fun so it didn't matter.

After about an hour, I realized that the booze was hitting my bladder hard, and got up to use the restroom. Stumbling a little downstairs into the basement, I was feeling really good. When I got into the bathroom, everything seemed perfectly normal. The place was a little gross, but it's what I expected. I made my way over to the urinals, the one in the style where it's just one flat wall with a little ledge that all the guys stand up on and piss into the same pool. Usually, these types of toilets intimidated me a bit. I'm not all that big, not small but nothing special. But as I was drunk and alone I didn't give it much thought. I undid my pants and tried to pee. It was taking a while, as it sometimes did in public restrooms, to come. I stood there humming to myself for a few seconds before I heard behind me the voice that would come to haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life.

But at the time, of course, it was perfectly normal. A deeper voice that you'd picture a tall, dark featured man with a lot of facial hair and intruding eyes to have.

"Takin a while to come out, eh? Shy bladder?"

The voice had a slight Scottish accent. I glanced back quickly, jumping a little. My guess based on the voice was right. The man had buzzed, jet black hair, short but bushy all-around facial hair. He was taller than me by about 6 inches, but he seemed like a giant. This guy was so built up it seemed he could move a train without breaking a sweat. I looked back down quickly, muttering something like "haha.. Yeah.."

"Well, don't let me stop yeh... Go on."

I just stood there, willing myself to pee. But nothing was coming. After another few seconds I tucked in, zipped up, and turned around to leave.

But he was still standing there, blocking the door. His arms crossed, he stared at me. I stared back. The confrontation seemed to last an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds.

"Excuse me..." I said, offering him a little smile.

"You know maybe it'd be easier for you to sit down, like a little girly."

"No I think I just didn't have to go as bad as I thought I did." I said a little defensively as I walked toward the door, him still in the way. I made straight for the door, hoping he would move before I got there. He did, just as I reached him. I walked past him but he grabbed my arm roughly and pulled me back towards him.

His face centimeters from mine, he said in a quiet voice, spitting on my unflinching face with every vowel, "Might wanna work on that, or you'll be a little girly, yet." I could smell strong liqueur on his breath and it stung my eyes.

I pulled myself away and left the bathroom quickly. It seemed that my buzz was completely gone. I walked up to Lacy and told her that we should go to a different bar. She could tell I was serious and we got up and left. We walked around a little, but when she asked what happened, I told her nothing. We walked around for a half hour, and my buzz started to come back to me. By the time we found another bar and had a few more drinks, I'd completely forgotten about the creepy encounter. Around midnight, we headed back to the hostel, where I finally was able to pee in peace. I went back into our dorm, getting ready for bed. I opened my day pack, which I had kept strapped on my back the entire night, and noticed that my passport was missing.

"Shit!" I said frustratedly, waking up a few of our dorm mates I started frantically shuffling through my pack.

"What?" asked Lacy, still pretty drunk from the nights festivities.

"I think I lost my passport."

"Haha... Sucks..." She said laying down on her bed slowly. She was so far gone that I knew she would be no support.

I needed that passport. It was my lifeline abroad. I tried to think back to where I could have left it. I had paid for all the drinks in the first bar, and Lacy in the second. It was the only place I had opened my pack.

"I've gotta go back to that first bar." I said to Lacy. But she was fast asleep. Past out in all we clothes on top of the comforter.

Without really thinking about it, and not really tired at all because of the jet lag, I got redressed and headed out of the hostel. The first bar was just down the street. Few block. I would just ask the bartender and I'm sure he would have it right there. No big deal. Little did I know...

The street seemed awfully quiet for 12:30 in the morning on a Saturday, but maybe British people just weren't night owls. I could see the lights on and a few people still sitting around in the bar, so I wasn't worried about it being closed. I walked into the bar and asked the bartender. He hadn't seen anything. He was a sweet man, who seemed genuinely concerned about my predicament. That made me feel a bit better, but not much. I walked out of the bar, and stood on the street corner, thinking.

Just as I was about to give up hope and was back to the hostel, a car pulled up next to me.

"You looking for a ride?" Said a new man's voice, a lighter, slightly less-accented voice.

"Oh, no. Thanks, though!" I said as I started to walk forward across the street to head back. The car followed slowly.

"What about a good time? You looking for a good time?" Said the voice. Usually I would be flat out uncomfortable, but I was feeling a little risky, and maybe a little horny.

Although I'd never had an encounter with either gender, I classified myself as gay. It was just who I was, what I was attracted to. But growing up in a small, but liberal town made opportunities rare. There had been a couple over the years to hook up with one of the other out-gay kids in town, but I'd never been interested in the person.

I turned toward the car. The window was down but the lights were dim, and all I could see was a shadow. I had no intention of actually hooking up with this stranger, but a little flirting couldn't hurt.

Sensing that I was at least interested, the man in the car said, "Hop in."

This took me by surprise. I'd never been in a situation like this before. My brain was telling me to keep walking but my loins had something else to say.

"Buy me a drink first?" I said with a smirk.

"That's not the way this works." He said. His attractive, somewhat flirty tone was gone. His voice had lowered a few octaves.

Just as I began to compute what he said, I felt a huge force push my forward from behind. The man behind me pushed me straight down into the dirty cement. I started to scream but a white cloth was forced across my mouth and nose. I knew what was happening, but I couldn't believe it. My face was pushed hard into the cement and the last thing I remember was my cheek scraping against it. Then everything went black.

I woke up in a trunk. I could hear the car driving and feel the bumps along the road. Nothing on my body was bound, I had just been thrown in there. It was dark, but I could see light shining through the cracks of the trunk. Which meant it was day time.

I had been kidnapped. I couldn't believe it. I always secretly thought that I would never be a victim. I was a small child, I was a girl, I wasn't from a wealthy family. I wasn't small and easy to handle. I was just an average guy. I couldn't believe it. So many thoughts ran through my head but none of them could connect to compute why this was happening to me or how. Where was Lacy? Had she even woken up yet? What would she do when she did? What would I do if I were her? I would have contacted the police or the embassy or something. But that wasn't my problem. I felt the panic start to rise inside of me. I was just about to scream, my natural reaction, when I caught myself. I supposed they didn't know I was awake yet. Maybe that could come to my advantage. My eyes were quickly adjusting to the low light. I looked for the interior trunk latch, which I knew was a requirement for all cars. But it looked as though they had poured a liter of super glue on it, around it. There was no way to even reach the latch. I was completely helpless. I started to wiggle around as much as possible, but didn't get far. I became aware of my surroundings. I was cold, very cold I was shivering with huge goosebumps everywhere. In the trunk with me were two water bottles, a black duffle bag, a few rolls of scotch tape, and some loose pages of a newspaper.

I started to search the inside of the duffle bag. There wasn't much. A blanket, some spare gym-like clothes, a dress, and... My passport.

So the was planned. Someone had nicked my passport at that bar, knowing I would come back to get it. I put the passport in my pocket and tried to relax as much as possible. Panicking would do me no good. I focused my adrenaline to help make my sense of hearing a bit better. I couldn't make out much other than the tires round over the gravel, but I thought I hear the faint sound of classical music coming from the car.

I don't know how long I laid there. My only sense of time came from the light slowly dimming from outside the car. However, I didn't know what time I had come to consciousness, so it didn't matter. It could've been 12 hours, could've been three. I had no idea. It was a miserable, helpless feeling.

After a long while, I felt the car turn off the road to the left and pull onto a gravel road. I had to pee. Bad. I figured I would be let out soon. I was both anxious and dreading it. What did these people want? Or were they just going to kill me right away? I had no way of even guessing my fate. But the road didn't end. It continued on for ages. After what must've been a few hours, I peed myself. I hadn't done something like that since I was in single digits. The worst part was the itchiness. It soaked my pants and then started itching like no other. It was horrible.

It was dark by the time the car finally came to a stop. I was more miserable than I think I'd ever been before. On top of the fear and confusion, I hadn't eaten for at least 24 hours, my need to poop was killing my stomach, my legs were sticky with the putrid post-alcohol urine, and I had a headache that I felt would surely kill me on the spot. I had already most of both water bottles, and used the empty first one to pee in a second time. I was so out of it by the time my captors came around to open the trunk that I wasn't even all that scared.

I heard a click and the trunk swung open. It was dawn, the clouds in the sky illuminated the early morning light, and it stung my eyes. I squinted. There were two figures standing over me. Both male. Both large and intimidating. But one of them much more so.

The larger, brawnier one said, in a familiar voice, "Looks like you were finally able to piss. Guess you aren't a little girly after all."

The hairs on my neck stood straight on end. This was the same man from the bathroom in the first bar. He must have pocketed my passport when we grabbed my arm.

I said nothing. My cynical side registered that even a woman would have been able to pee their pants, but I stayed silent.

The other captor, a slightly thinner, shorter one, the man from the car window, said "Let's get him inside. I'm tired."

The other replied in a somewhat whiney but playful tone, "But I've just gotten my new toy, I wanna play with it."

This registered to me as odd. Clearly, these were not average kidnappers.

"Look at it. It's disgusting and soiled. We will play later. For now let's get it cleaned up and rested."

I still said nothing. What could I say? Please don't do this? Why are you doing this? None of that would change anything.

The thinner one, who seemed to be the one in charge, leaned down quickly and grabbed my cheeks hard, squeezing them so my mouth popped open. It hurt really bad, and I moaned.

"Oh shut the fuck up bitch, this is nothing. I don't wanna hear another sound from you unless it is warranted." He said matter-of-factly as he grabbed a dozen small pink pills from his pocket and forced them into my mouth. I refused to swallow so he held my nose closed and grabbed the water bottle with my pee in it.

The brawnier one saw that I had peed in it and chuckled. "Haha! That probably wasn't a very good idea!"

The thin man unscrewed the bottle and tipped it into my mouth. I struggled against it but he was too strong. The piss swished into my mouth. It was still a bit warm, and tasted like sour body odor. I started to gag, but he held my mouth closed. I made eye intact with him. He had sort of a mischievous grin on his face, like he was enjoying it.

I couldn't breath. It was like water-boarding. After a long time of struggling I had no choice but to swallow in order to take a deep breath. The leading man seemed satisfied.

"Get him up." He said as he stepped back and straightened his button-up light yellow shirt that was tucked into a pair of form fitted grey slacks.

The brawny man bent down and grabbed me roughly by the hair and arm, yanking me up. He practically dragged me out of the trunk. I couldn't stand. My legs were cramping from being curled in such a position for so long. I fell to my hands and knees and looked around. On both sides of me were giant mountains, covered with pine trees. I clearly was nowhere near London. My guess was north, in northern Scotland. I state there on my knees looking around In shock for a few seconds. But it must've been a few seconds too long.

All of a sudden I felt a foot hit me hard right in my asshole. It was one of the most painful things I had ever experienced. It was as if that phrase about sticking your foot up someone's ass was actually happening. I couldn't feel my entire ass. It was numb. I laid on the wet gravel howling.

"Now look what you've done." Exclaimed the leading man aggressively to the other.

I smelled it before I felt it. I had shit myself. Plain and simple, the kick had rendered me incapable of controlling my bowels and it ha just came right out. I could now feel the shit between my cheeks and down the back of my pants.

The brawny man said nothing and after a few moments the leading man told him to take care of it. The brawny man grabbed me by the arm, a little gentler this time, and pulled me to my feet. I could hardly stand and I had to lean against him as he lead me behind what looked like a wood cabin fortress. There was a tall gate made of log surrounding a three story log house. It had many different rooms and chambers coming off of it in all different directions. It was huge and beautiful. Like a hotel made to look like a log cabin.

He brought me around the house to a back gate. He let me drop to the stone gravel while he searched through his pockets for the key.

This was my opportunity. I had to try to make a run for it. If not, I would be surrendering myself to this. I knew I had little chance but I figured I might as well; I had nothing to lose.

I heaved myself up and started to meekly run for the thick trees in the opposite direction of the brawny man, who was dumbly sorting through his keys, oblivious to me.

I made it farther than I though I would. I was just about to reach the trees, where I could dive beneath a bush and try to hide in the cover, when he turned around. He let out a frustrated yell and chased after me at startling speed. I ran as fast as I could into the bushes and tripped over some ivy. I went tumbling straight down a hill that I didn't know was there, hidden by the tree cover. I tumbled down like you would see in a movie. Except this was much more painful. I could feel my body crack and joints pop everytime I hit the ground. After what seemed like forever, I reached the bottom and landed in a swamp-like puddle. I was covered in mud, and numb from the cold. I could hardly see straight from the disorientation.

I tried to keep running but I could hardly at back off my knees. It must've taken longer than I thought to finally get up because when I did, the brawny man was standing righ above me.

"Bad idea." He said, and he kicked me straight in the stomach. I doubled over and felt like I was throwing up. I dry heaved for ages as he picked me up and over his shoulder and carried me over to a a wooden staircase that went up the hill. The man wa so strong, carrying me up the stairs was nothing. I was grateful for this because it meant I didn't have to go up myself.

I knew for one thing, I wouldn't try to escape again on a whim. If it were to be tried, I'd have to plan it out. Like in 'Escape From Alcatraz'.