Blaine Anderson sauntered out of McKinley. He had stayed an hour later to get Spanish help Mr. Martinez. It was now five o'clock and starting to get a little dark. He walked around the school to the back. He had to park in the back parking lot because he had arrived a little late for school and the front was full. But something made him stop for a minute and tilt his head.
There were three other cars in the parking lot: A white van with no windows in the back, a Mustang, and a Pontiac. When he came in, Blaine's car was the only one in the parking lot. Weird. Oh well.
He kept walking towards his Fusion.
"Where you going, fag?" A deep, throaty voice growled from behind him. Blaine jumped at sudden voice. A beefy hand grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled back harshly, making Blaine choke. The arm wrapped around his neck, locking him in place. From the size of this guy's arm, Blaine could tell he was a jock.
"H-home…" He faltered over the word.
"I don't think so." Another voice.
"Gimme it." snarled the third voice. Suddenly Blaine felt a cloth being pressed to his nose and mouth. He was getting sleepy- very… very… sleepy.
"Wha'?" He garbled out before falling limp against the jock's chest.
When Blaine awoke, he couldn't see a thing. When he tried to speak, he couldn't do that either. He didn't even need to try to move. He felt the ropes binding his hands and feet.
His head hurt and hurt bad. He couldn't help the small, pathetic moan that ripped through his throat. Someone kicked him directly in the ribs. Pain erupted through the area.
"Shut up, faggot. I don't want to hear you moaning all the way to the Place." The boy who had kicked him snapped. Blaine was even more frightened. What was this "place"?
He could feel the gentle rocking of a car. Was he in a car or was he hallucinating? His question was answered when the van hit a bump and he went into the air a little bit. He landed heavily on his hurt ribs, but stifled a moan of pain.
The car stopped, and one of the jocks lifted the short teenager over a shoulder uncomfortably.
"We're here!" Another jock whispered gently in his ear. The voice was mockingly affectionate and light, but still dripping with danger.
"Please," Blaine tried to beg, but his plead only came out as a distorted mumble. He was thrown down onto a concrete floor. Tears filled his honey colored eyes when his head roughly hit the floor. One of the jocks grabbed his hair and pulled him upright. The other two retied his hands to a cold metal bar.
Blaine now wished he could see what they were doing and if there was any escape. To his luck, they finally began to remove the gag and then the blindfold. One of the jocks beefy hands wiped the drool from his mouth.
"That's disgusting." The jock complained. Blaine almost said I wouldn't have drooled if you hadn't put in the gag in the first place. But he quickly thought better of it. He studied the jocks for a minute, and realized two of them had slushied him and the other one had shoved him into a locker. Their names were Jack, Cooper, and Tim.
"We're going to leave you here for a while, but don't worry- we'll be back to play later." Cooper said, smiling.
"Take your time." Blaine said without thinking. Tim lashed out and landed a hard smack across Blaine's face. The sharp sound of skin-on-skin contact echoed through the dreary chamber. Blaine cried out. His cheek was sure to bruise. The trio walked away from the tied up boy. It was then that he realized that he was in a prison-like cell and tied to one of the bars in it.
They arrived again around five o'clock and this time they brought something with them. It was a grey gym bag and it looked packed. For some reason, it caught Blaine's attention. The three boys knelt down on either side of him.
"Hi there, Blainers. How are you? Are you enjoying yourself?" Jack whispered to him, trying to sound nice and sweet, but he didn't sound nice. He sounded like a cat
playing with a mouse.
"W-what's in the bag?" Blaine asked quietly.
"So eager. Should we show the fag?" Cooper cooed.
"Yeah!" The other two cheered. Tim opened the gym bag and pulled out the items inside of it, one by one. Blaine whimpered and his eyes grew wide.
The contents of the bag were a lighter, a whip, a blackjack, and a kitchen knife.
Without any hesitation, Cooper reached down and grabbed the blackjack. He smackedBlaineacross the ribs.
"Let the fun begin!" He yowled