Not In Love

Chapter 1

The road was clear, except for a few cars scattered about, going at different speeds.

I turned the radio up, listening to “Superman” by Lazlo Bane and sang along.

‘I can’t do this all on my own. I know that I’m no…Superman.”

Even though it was night time and the road was dark, moonlight shined down on two figures standing by the side of the road. As I approached, I slowed down and noticed the two figures were men.

One of the men had his thumb out.

Hitchhikers.

I don’t why, but I had the sudden urge to stop.

I put my foot on the brake and stalled the car. I turned the radio down a bit as “Ho, Hey!” by The Lumineers came on.

“You guys lookin’ for a ride?” I asked

They both smiled.

One of them, a Caucasian man, said “Sure are. You offerin’?”

The other, an African American man, spoke up, “We’ll give you money for gas.”

I smiled back at them. “Hop in.”

The Caucasian man got in front with me, and the other got in the back.

“The name’s Joe.” The white man said once I pulled off. “And this here’s my friend Michael.”

“Hi, Joe. Hi, Michael. My name’s Jackson. Jackson Taft. But all my friends and family call me Goofy.”

Joe smiled. “Hi, there Goofy.”

Michael extended his hand from the back seat and I took my hand off the wheel momentarily to shake it.

“Now, Goofy. You’re gonna get off at Exit 57 and make a left at the green light. Then you’re gonna keep straight down Benjamin and Clarke avenue, then make a right turn down Antoinette road.” Michael directed.

I did as instructed. “So where you guys from?”

“Well, I’m from Corpus Christi, about 20 minutes from here.” Joe said.

“I’m not from Texas. I’m from Nashville, Tennessee.” Michael answered.

I nodded and smiled. “I’m from right here in Lake Jackson. That‘s how I got my name.”

Michael laughed. “Your first name’s my last name.

I chuckled too. “Cool.”

The ride continued like this for about 20 or 30 minutes until we reached our destination.

But then… I looked around at where exactly our destination was.

It was a old large house that looked as if it had been partially torn down. There were only Halloween decorations still on the front porch, which added to the already frightening atmosphere of the house. And I hadn’t noticed before, but there were NO other houses around.

“Ummmm…Guys, am I at the right…?”

I was cut off my sentence because when I turned around instead of looking directly at Joe or Michael,

I was looking down the barrel of a gun.

　

Chapter 2

“Just get out of the car, don’t make any noise because it ain’t gonna do you any good.” Joe said, still holding the gun to my head.

“And DON’T try to run because we WILL shoot you.” Michael said, as if there was any doubt in my mind.

I swallowed hard and did as I was told.

Joe came around and took one of my arms and Michael took the other. Then they dragged up the stairs of the porch and into the house.

Once inside, they threw me on the ground and I hit my face on the edge of….a table? It was dark, darker than it was outside so I couldn’t tell. Either way my mouth filled with the iron taste of blood.

“Now listen up, Jackson. You’re here for a very special reason.” Joe spoke above me. “You’re gonna be our very special friend.”

I didn’t know what he meant by ‘very special’ but I knew that whatever the meaning, what he was saying wasn’t good. AT ALL.

“That’s right, Jackson.” Michael said, spitting my name out as if it was poison in his mouth. “And there’s no way you’re getting out of it. So don’t even try because if you do and we catch you, we ain’t gon’ kill you. Nah, we ain’t gon’ kill you. We’ll just beat the shit out of you until you wish we had killed you. Now stand up!”

I tried but my knees were throbbing. When they were dragging me in, my knees banged up against the porch stairs so hard, it felt like they cracked on each step until finally they shattered. Instead, I just laid there.

“Have it your own way.” Joe said before yanking up by the scruff of my collar.

I wanted to cry out in pain once he pulled me up to my feet but when I opened my mouth, nothing, not even a whimper would escape.

Joe pulled me out of what I assumed was the living room and into another room. There was a window there, with moonlight shining through it, making things somewhat visible.

I saw a bed, a night stand with a small lamp and a book on it and to my right, a closet with heaps of clothes in it.

Joe ushered me over to the bed and pushed me down. He leaned over to turn on the light just as Michael came in.

“Let me have her first, Joe.” Michael said plainly.

“No. I want her first.” Joe said, his green eyes looking intently down at me.

I just laid there, clueless.

“I have an idea. Why don’t we BOTH take her?” Michael suggested, smirking menacingly down at me as he came a bit closer.

I don’t know where, but I found the courage to speak. “T-take me where?”

“Why, on the best damn ride you ever been on!” Joe exclaimed. “Hold her down, Mike.”

Michael came around the bed and held me down by the shoulders.

“What are you doing?” I asked in a panic.

Joe didn’t answer. Instead he told Michael, “Undress her.”

“W-what? NO!” I said, struggling to get up but Michael was too strong and held me down. He began to pull my green Oscar the grouch T-shirt from over my head, then violently pulled my pants and underwear off of my body.

I tried desperately to cover my exposed body with my arms but Joe, also undressed, pulled my arms down and forced them down by my sides.

Joe pushed my legs apart and positioned himself for entry, wasting absolutely no time forcing his enlarged manhood inside.

I whimpered, from pain not from pleasure as he started to move, slowly only for a moment, then in harsh, deliberate movements that made the bed rock back and forth. Pain rushed all over my body.

Michael laughed from the other side of the room and Joe chuckled too. “She’s a tight one, Mike!”

“I guess I’ll have to join in then!” Michael said, beginning to pull his shirt over his head. He pulled his pants down next and walked over to me, his manhood sticking straight out, away from his body.

Michael stood over, knelt down on the bed, and punched me in the face.

I opened my mouth to scream, and he pushed his dick inside.

I wanted to physically leave, but since I couldn’t, I separated myself in my mind, away from the pain of having Joe and Michael take turns ramming their bodies into mine, the humiliation, the anger that I was feeling because Michael and Joe were moaning with pleasure and having a great time at my expense, and go over to a corner of the room.

Tears welled up in my eyes but I refused to let them see me cry.

I tried to think of something else. My mind wandered to my family, my mom and dad, my baby brother. All of them. Waiting for me to get home at that very second. I became so preoccupied with thinking of them that I didn’t notice when both Michael and Joe pulled out and emptied their cum out on my stomach and chest.

Breathing hard, Michael smirked at me and said, “You’re good, you know that?”

Then he leaned over and kissed me on the mouth.

His breath smelled of mint and whiskey. I wanted to throw up. More tears formed in my eyes and threatened to spill over.

Michael stroked my face. I didn’t want him to. Just knowing that he was looking at me made me feel dirty, cheap. But I was too scared to turn away.

Joe went out of the room for a minute or so, and brought back a towel, which he threw at me and said, “Clean yourself up. You look terrible.”

I picked up the towel and wiped away the evidence of the hell I’d just endured. Once I was done, I let the towel drop o the ground and I stared at it, afraid to look up because if I did, then I’d know what would happen next. And quite frankly, I was more of afraid of that than anything else.

“You’re sleeping in here tonight.” Michael said. “With me.”

I felt a lump in my throat. More tears. And maybe a little vomit too.

“Can’t I just go home?” I asked in a low voice.

Joe laughed. “Are you kiddin’? You’ll tell if we let you go. You ain’t goin’ nowhere. You‘re just gonna stay here with us for as long as we say you are. Got it?”

I nodded slowly.

“Awww, don’t fret, sweetheart. It’ll tons of good times. Won’t it, Joe?”

Joe nodded and grinned. “You bet it will, Michael. I’m going to bed now. You two have a real goodnight. Make sure you behave yourself, Goofy. I don’t wanna have to come back, ya hear?”

I nodded slowly.

Joe left the room and closed the door behind him, leaving Michael and me alone.

Michael stood up and pulled back the sheets.

“It’s gettin' late. You might wanna get some shut-eye.” Michael said. “C’mon now. Get on in.”

Michael held the covers up so that I could crawl under them. He turned off the lights, and then crawled underneath them with me. He wrapped his arms around my still naked body, tightly, tight enough to where if I decided that I wanted to escape, I couldn‘t.

Before I knew it, he was fast asleep.

It was dead quiet in the room. I could hear Joe snoring in a room nearby.

Now that I was seemingly alone with myself, I started to cry softly, careful not to let them hear.

All I wanted to do was run away, to get to a phone, to my car, to get home.

But that just wasn’t possible now.

　
Joe
　

Jackson


Michael

Whoaaaaa didn't see that one coming. Then again, I didn't see the other story coming neither.... What will happen to poor Jackson (really cute name for a girl actually)?

Lol,I was bored and just decided to write. This is a story based on a short story (sans Michael) I wrote called Psychotic Thumb.My grandma gave me the idea lol. And I know right? I love the name Jackson for a girl. However, I don't even know what ahead for her! Glad you enjoyed it though?

Yes I did enjoy it. As for your inspiration.. That I find amusing

Lol true. Well she used to write when she was my age back in the 70s and I asked her for a story title for this idea I has. I figured she knew better lol

Chapter 3

The next morning, I was in for a very RUDE awakening.

“Get up!” Joe and Michael yelled simultaneously in my ear.

My eyes popped open and I rose slowly out of the bed.

“We need to ask you a few questions.” Michael said. “So listen up! We need to know where you keep all your money.”

“I don’t have any bank accounts or anything like that. I don’t even have any money.” I said

“Well, where do your parents keep their money then?” Joe demanded to know

I shrugged and shook my head. “I don’t know.”

Lying. I was SO LYING. But if I gave them any information, and I mean ANY information about my parents, they might find them. And hurt them. Bad.

Michael and Joe stared at me for a moment, then looked at each other and burst into laughter.

But Michael became really serious and grabbed me painfully by the hair.

“Now, little girl, you better stop your lyin’. We know you know where your parents keep SOME of their money, right? So why don’t you just tell us? Because if you don’t, terrible things are goin’ to happen to you, your parents, and the whole damn county.”

“I-I really don’t know, honestly.” I stammered.

Michael looked at me with his deep brown eyes but he loosened his grip on my hair.

“Okay.” He said, “That’s fine for now. But just know that the longer it takes us to get what we need, the longer you’re gonna be here. You got that, little girl?”

I nodded and he walked out of the room. Joe stood for a moment, looking me dead in the eye, with this….look on his face. His mood was unreadable. I tried to avoid his gaze by turning my head and looking out the window. The bright sunshine illuminating the room was deceiving.

When I turned back around, Joe was gone.

Later on that day, around 12 or 1 o’ clock, Joe left for work. I was curious as to what he did for a living, and who would hire such a awful man, but I wasn’t anywhere near brave enough to ask.

Michael sat and watched TV all day, almost completely ignoring me. The only time he spoke to me was when he wanted me to do something for him. Ordering me to do things like make him a sandwich and clean the kitchen. Afterward, I milled about the house, bored out of my mind, thinking of ways that I could get out of there without Michael noticing.

Then, around 5 o’clock, I stumbled upon a back door, downstairs in the basement. I could see the bottom of it from the top of the staircase.

I tiptoed down the steps ever so gentle-like, careful not to make any noise. I knew if I did and Michael found out what I was up to, I was dead.

When I reached the bottom, I scampered over to the door and tried to turn the knob but the damn thing wouldn’t budge.

I tried yanking on it but that didn’t do much good.

If I kicked it or did anything else, Michael would hear me for sure.

Then an idea hit me. I had a hairpin. Maybe I could pick the lock.

I got down on my knees and took the hairpin out of my hair. I stuck it in the knob and jingled it around some, saying a silent prayer in hopes that the door would open.

A thin sheen of sweat formed on my forehead and I bit down real hard on the inside of my cheek, so hard that I could taste blood.

After the first five minutes, the door didn’t open and I was ready to give up. But after another second, the doorknob turned and I thought ‘I’m free.’

But the door began to open and I fell backwards.

When the door opened completely, my heart not only sank. It stopped.

“You must be lost.” Joe said. “Let me give you a hand.”

　

Chapter 4

Had I known what I know now about hostage situations like the one I was in, I would never have tried to escape. At least, not while one of the captors was home and I was unsure of the location of the other one.

After Joe caught me, the night was pretty much a blur of pain, tears, sweat. And blood.

Here’s how I remember it:

Joe grabbed me by the crook of my arm and pulled me back upstairs.

“You’ll never guess what I found, downstairs in the basement, trying to leave out the backdoor.” Joe said to Michael as he came up the stairs.

“No. What?” Michael said, not bothering to turn away from the television. For a second, I was almost grateful for that.

“Our little friend, Jackson trying to leave us all alone.”

Michael turned around and looked at me like I was the dumbest person he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Well, that wasn’t very smart, little girl.” Michael said, looking me directly in the eyes.

I couldn’t bare to look at him then. I knew what was coming and for whatever reason, looking at either one of them would’ve made it come quicker than I wanted it to.

Joe jerked me forward, letting go of my arm, causing me to lose my balance and fall to the ground.

I heard Michael slowly walking over to me.

He administered the first kick.

The next thing I remember was Michael carrying my naked body outside, and tying me to a post in the backyard. He used some kind of rope, that cut into my skin and was so tight, I felt like it was cutting off the circulation of blood to my brain. When he was done tying me up, he spit in my face and cursed me as he walked away.

“Dumb bitch.” He said under his breath.

But before he closed the door to the house, he turned around and said, “And tomorrow, you better be able to tell us all your bank account information, or you’re going to get it a lot worse than you did today.”

Then he slammed the door and I was alone. In the dark. They hit, kicked, punched, and stomped on me for almost 3 whole hours.

My head was pounding and I was afraid to go to sleep because I was sure I had a concussion.

I felt something running down my face but I couldn’t raise my hands to touch it, so I just let it run down the side of my face, until it ran into my mouth. Tears filled my eyes when I tasted Iron.

I tried to wiggle free of the ropes but Michael had tied them in a way that was impossible to get out of without the aid of another person or a sharp object and that if you did try, you got cut by the small barbs in it. Once I realized my effort was futile, I began to cry softly.

More blood ran down my face, some into my left eye when I tried to look up.

In the house, all seemed quiet. Most of the lights were out except in one of the bedrooms: Joe’s.

The curtains were open and I could see him moving around in there.

He walked past the window a couple of times before stopping to look out of it. He stared out at me for a long time and I looked back at him. From far away, he actually looked…like he pitied me.

He was the one to turn away.

Shortly after, he closed the curtains and turned out the lights

What happened to my comment? Anyway I thought I posted something already about how crazy she must've been for thinking she could get away so easily and how extra xoldhearted Michael was being. I'm mad how they are almost taking turns with having emotions and being cruel. First Joesph was horrible then Michael, vice Versa with actually caring and feeling sorry for poor Jackson

Lol thats very true. But their switched emotions plays a huge role in the story. Sorry I been gone so long. Had writer's block. But I have some new chapters to put up, probably in the morning or later on in the morning I should say because its already 3:30 here lol

I've been creeping on and off in hopes of an update! YAY!

Dude I suck so bad. I promised you I'd be back with an update on this months ago. But I got really caught up with applying for college and writing college essays and plain old writer's block. I'm working for something new for this story but meanwhile I have a new one in the making on here. XD

Understandable. I've been to busy to finish my latest story, let alone post it or finish even a thought! New Year's Resolution: Finish my school shit so I can post more often.