Chapter 21 - and further warning for violence and sexual content
The next morning. Hutch woke early with a pain behind his eyes and a throbbing, nagging headache. Forcing himself to get up of the sofa and groaning quietly as his back muscles unknotted themselves, he staggered to the bathroom and slipped into his old green sweat pants and top. Despite feeling like death warmed over, he felt that a good, early morning run would probably help things along a little. And anyway, why spoil the habit of a lifetime? He did his best thinking when he was out pounding the streets. A mile in five minutes was his usual game, although today, he thought he might do an extra circuit of the park – judging by the state of his partner last night, he had an extra dose of thinking to do before he could figure out how to help his buddy. Fastening his running shoes, he softly closed the door behind him and bounced down the steps. He paused at the doorway and took some deep breaths, stretching up and then bending and stretching his calf muscles before he set of at his usual comfortable lope, down the street and round the corner.
Upstairs in the apartment Starsky was semi aware of his partner moving around the living room and snorted to himself. Trust Hutch! If he was dying, he'd still take his customary run first!
The brunet's head also ached, but in a way, he welcomed it – due punishment for downing almost three quarters of a bottle of strong liquor the night before. He smiled fondly at the memory of Hutch, gun in hand, defending him in the bar, but his smile faded as he remembered the reason he was in the bar in the first place. Should he call Molly and see if she was really ok? He didn't want to disturb her although he desperately wanted to make certain she was ok. Maybe later. It was early. He knew it was without looking at is watch. Hutch always set off for his jog at 5:55, leaving 10 minutes for the run, then time for his shower and breakfast shake before work. Regular as clockwork! Starsky turned over and pulled the sheet up around his ears. For the first time in such a long time he felt warm and relaxed. Maybe this was it. Maybe it was the beginning of his recovery. He hoped so because he was more than tired of feeling like life was going on around him and he wasn't part of it. Enjoying the feeling, he snuggled his curly head into the pillow and closed his eyes, sighing contentedly. Later he'd ring Dobey and apologise and maybe next week he'd go back to….
Starsky heard the door to the apartment swing open. Was that Hutchinson a klutz or what? What'd he forgotten this time? His head? Coz if it wasn't screwed on, he'd sure as eggs were eggs lose it! Ignoring the interruption Starsky tried to get back to sleep knowing Hutch would be mad at himself if he thought he'd woken his partner.
He didn't hear the soft footfalls coming into the bedroom as he buried his head in the covers, but suddenly they were ripped from him and a heavy weight fell over his body pinning him to the bed. The brunet's eyes flew open and he opened his mouth to yell, but a rag was quickly stuffed in and held there by duct tape. The weight lifted slightly allowing Starsky to turn his head and stare up into the watery blue eyes of Shane Lewis. His heart hammered and the blood thundered in his ears and Starsky felt as though he were plunging down a long dark tunnel with no end in sight. This couldn't be happening! This was a nightmare and at any moment he'd wake up from it and be back in the big soft bed. But as Shane took out a small but still deadly pistol he realised the nightmare was in fact, for real. Lewis leered at him from his vantage point perched on the brunet's chest and slowly, he drew the weapon back and pistol whipped Starsky across the temple with it.
'That was just a love tap coz I missed ya' he said with a grin.
The brunet saw stars and his attacker watched gleefully as his victim's nostrils flared as Starsky tried to draw in sufficient oxygen round the gag. He tossed his head back and forth on the pillow, screwing up his eyes in frustration as the man echoed the movement, landing another crushing blow on the other side of his head. Dimly, he felt the trickle of blood running down the side of his face and the burn of the fire from his wounds. And then he felt Lewis get off of him, although he was weak and disorientated and too fuzzy to take advantage of the sudden freedom.
Lewis took a hold of Starsky's arms and hauled him roughly from the bed, dragging him out into the living room. With the gag in place, effectively cutting off a lot of his opportunity to breathe, Starsky's legs were like rubber the pains in his head throbbing in time with his rapidly beating heart, and the horror of the situation made his brain sluggish and slow. This was his worst nightmare come true. Lewis, back for round two and Hutch once again was away. He strangled down a moan and closed his eyes as he felt harsh ropes circle his wrists and tie them together behind his back. He tried to kick out at his attacker, but with only bare feet, and with the shock of the pistol whipping leaving him spacey and sick, Lewis was easily able to dodge out of the way. Shane ploughed his fist into Starsky's stomach watching as the cop doubled over abruptly.
'Behave' he grunted
Starsky fought to keep from throwing up, knowing he'd choke to death with the gag wedged into his mouth. He tried to breathe past the pains, but he was dizzy and disorientated. He felt himself pushed over to the side of the room and then Lewis was behind him again. He felt more rope being pushed through the loop round his wrists, and then a pull on his arms as they were hauled upwards behind him, causing him to lean forward to avoid his shoulders being popped from their sockets. With his arms pulled up and his body bent over at the waist, Shane tied off the rope that was affixed to one of the hooks Hutch used to hang his plants from. How convenient of Hutchinson to provide such a good anchor point!
He stood back and looked at his prisoner, hanging from the rope. Starsky was semi conscious, the lack of oxygen caused by the position he was in and the gag and the pains in his stomach and head leaving him weakened. But more than that; more than the physical pain, was the fear of Lewis; the fear of his predicament, and the fear that his nightmare was about to start all over again. Carefully, Lewis took the tape from the pale, sweating face of his victim and caressed Starsky's face.
'Have you missed me? Did you think you'd never see me again?' he asked. He received no answer, which seemed to annoy him and from his pocket he drew his knife. He cut the cord of the brunet's pyjama pants and they fell to puddle on the floor as Shane held the knife against the outside of Starsky's thigh. 'I didn't hear ya. Did ya miss me?'
Starsky closed his eyes. The horror was too much and his mind was closing down completely. He said nothing and barely flinched as Lewis drew the knife in a deep red line down towards Starsky's knee but a low moan escaped his throat as he collapsed forward and the pull on his arms and shoulders increased.
Lewis stood behind him, licking his lips as the blood started to trickle down for the wound, but his ruminations were stopped when he heard the front door bang and footsteps on the stairs coming upwards. Carefully he put the gun to Starsky's hanging head and stared as the expected blond cop came back through his own front door.
'Hey Starsk, Guess who I saw while I……' Hutch shuddered to a halt as he took in the picture before him. His partner tightly bound and hanging from the ceiling, a gun at his head as Shane Lewis leered at him.
'I'm not sure he wants to know just at the moment, Detective. Or can I call you Hutch. After our time together in the trial, I feel like I know ya so much better now'.
'Let him go, punk' Hutch snarled.
'Or what? Seems like I hold the winning hand Hutch. One wrong move and I blow his brains out. An' it'd be such a shame to waste that pretty curly head. Now, nice an' gentle I want you to bring that chair over, put it there an' sit down. No fancy moves huh?'
Hutch looked around, seeing the hard wooden chair he'd been directed to. Seeing no other way than to co-operate for the moment, he slowly reached for the chair and placed it where directed.
'Good. Now sit down' Shane told him.
Hutch sat down stiffly, his eyes still on his partner. Starsky hadn't moved and seemed almost insensate, blood trickling down his face and his right leg.
'Starsk. You ok buddy?' Hutch asked softly. There was no answer and the brunet continued to sway at the end of the rope, his head hanging down and the muscles in his bound arms standing out like cords from the strain of the position. 'What've ya done at him?' Hutch spat at Lewis.
'Nuthin yet. I wanted to wait till we had an audience. He's so cute when he moans ya know. Like he wants more an' more. Aint that right, Starsky?' and he leaned down and licked up the length of the brunet's exposed flank.
Hutch made a move, trying to jump the rapist, but Shane saw it and immediately he had the gun to Starsky's head again. 'I told ya, one wrong move an' I hurt him. Now this is what you're gonna do. You're gonna sit there like a good little cop an' you're gonna watch. An' for every move ya make, or sound ya make, or every time ya look away, I'm gonna hurt him some more. Ya got that?'
Hutch said nothing, but stared back at Lewis. The madman took his blade and dug it into Starsky's back, the tip drawing a ruby droplet of blood to the surface. The brunet flinched, his body swaying more rapidly on the end of the rope, but he made no sound.
'Yeah, yeah, I got it' Hutch said quickly. 'Just don't hurt him huh?'
'Hurt? Nooo. He likes it, don't ya bitch?' Shane grinned, running his hands down Starsky's back and down, between his legs. He took hold of the brunet's exposed balls and pulled down savagely on them. Starsky screamed, his body jangling on the end of the rope as Lewis laughed. 'See, its more fun when you're vocal' he said, yanking playfully again. 'I missed that with the drugs. No chance for….what d'they call it?...interaction'. His hand wandered northwards and his finger stopped over the brunet's anus, dipping slightly into the opening.
'Have you had some of this Hutch? Have you felt how tight his ass is? Ya want some now? Huh?'
'You're a sick bastard Lewis' Hutch snarled, his hands balling into fists by the side of the chair.
Lewis jammed the whole of his finger inside the brunet's body savagely as Starsky groaned pitifully. 'Oh now what did I say about shutting the fuck up? Ya want me to hurt him some more? Coz believe me, I'm not even started yet. You cops think you're so clever, so cute. Well I'm gonna show ya. I'm gonna make sure neither of ya police these streets ever again. Frame ya, like I orchestrated my defense. They're gonna find the two of ya. Him hanging dead with his ass reamed open an' you with his blood all over. An' with what I got 'em believin' at trial, they're just gonna think it's two more sick fags that's played too kinky an' to hard'
'You're a sick son-of-a-bitch Lewis. They'll find ya. They'll hunt ya down and find ya and lock you up an' throw away the key' Hutch yelled. 'NOO. For fucks sake leave him alone' he finished as Lewis cut another bloody furrow next to the first on Starsky's leg. The brunet didn't even seem to notice the new wound and made no sound.
Shane grunted, slapping at the brunet's bare back and flanks. 'And now for the finale. You're gonna really enjoy watchin' me fuck his brains out. And then maybe, when I've had enough you might want a turn?'
Shane moved around until he could position himself behind Starsky while still watching Hutch. He lowered his zip and put his hands on the smaller man's hips to draw him towards him. Hutch stared in sick fascination, afraid to look away and afraid to witness his friend's debasement as Shane prepared himself. He saw the rapists cock spring up, turgid and ready and push itself against the brunet when suddenly the heavy, thick silence in the room was cut through by the ringing of the telephone. The bell rang only once, but it was enough for there to be a split second where Shane looked up.
Hutch seized his chance and sprang forward knocking the madman off his feet. Shane yelled once then started to grapple with the blond cop on the ground, in and around the bare feet of the bound brunet. Over and over they rolled on the polished floor, each trying to get the upper hand, and use their body weight to their advantage. What Shane had in height, Hutch made up for in agility and training and he saw the knife flash down, clipping his upper arm before he grabbed for it. He caught the blade rather than the handle, but he clung on regardless, feeling the cold metal cutting into the flesh of his palm and fingers. Lewis shrieked his anger and frustration into the air and launched another attack against the flaxen haired cop, trying to rip his blade from Hutch's hand. The blond grunted in pain, but still hung on, the knife sandwiched now between their bodies as they glared at each other, face to face, the strain showing in their eyes as a silent battle of strength ensued.
Hutch felt the tremble in his arms as lactic acid started to build in his muscles. He didn't know how much longer he could hold on, but above him, he heard another faint moan from his partner. The sound spurred him on and with once final convulsive thrust, he felt the knife connect with something, although in his frenzy he couldn't tell whether the flesh it had plunged into was his own or Shane's. It wasn't until he felt the body beneath him go limp that he relaxed a little and he managed to roll over, seeing Lewis' body fall to the ground, the knife sticking out obscenely from the rapists throat, and his watery blue eyes staring sightlessly upwards.
With trembling hands, Hutch managed to pull the blade out and crawl over to his partner, cutting the rope that hung him from the ceiling before falling semi conscious to the ground on top of Starsky's unconscious body.