Chapter Twenty-Two
The first thing John noticed when he came too, was that the necklace Claire had given him was no longer around his neck. Next, was the rough ropes around his hands and ankles. "What the fuck?" He groaned, slowly opening his eyes to try and get a layout of the room he was in.
"'Bout time you woke up." Jessica gave a cat-like grin, slinking over to him like she was trying to show him what little cleavage she had. "I was starting to think that Peter was a little too rough with you." She pressed a hand to his thigh, tracing the fingers of her other hand over his jawline.
"Get away from me bitch." He spat, trying to push away from her, only to almost tip the chair he was in backwards.
A look of false hurt crossed her features. "Now why am I a bitch?" She asked, letting her hand travel to his stomach, where she slipped it under his shirt.
John clenched his jaw, trying to force himself to not feel her touch. "Because you know that I have a girlfriend." He ground out, moving his legs in an attempt to hide his body's reaction to her touch. "And you know I would never willingly betray her."
Jessica tilted her head, looking at the phone beside her. "Well, we could fix that." She picked up the receiver, turning to the boy she had captive. "What's the number of your new house?" She asked.
"Like I would tell you." He spat, looking at the wall.
Jessica's lip curled as she dug her nails into the bare skin of his arm. "You better tell me." She smiled, at the sound of pain that escaped him.
"No." He stated, ignoring the blood that she'd drawn with her nails.
She placed her hand in his lap, giving the bulge in his jeans a gentle squeeze. "Tell me."
He stifled the moan of pleasure as her touch stimulated his body. "Get off of me." He ordered, trying his absolute hardest to kill his erection.
She slipped her fingers into the flap of denim that hid his zipper, slowly pulling it down. "Tell me." She whispered, slipping her finger into his pants.
"Fine." He gave in, knowing that if he didn't, he would have to carry the guilt of this night for the rest of his life. "I'll tell you." He ducked his head as he told her the number, praying that Claire wouldn't be the one to answer and he could fake it.
She held the phone to his ear. "You're going to break up with her, and say that you've found someone else." She ran a nail under his chin, ignoring the way his muscles tensed as she got too close to his throat.
He nodded, speaking into the receiver as Claire answered. "Sweets, I have to tell you something." He winced as Jessica pushed on a pressure point in his shoulder. "I found someone else, and I have to break up with you."
"What?" Claire's voice squeaked, knowing that something had to be wrong. "What are you talking about?" She asked, trying to pick out any noises in the background to tell her where he was.
"I can't say much more, but I need someone to drop my seizure meds at the school." He knew that she would understand the code, and even if she'd forgotten that one part of it, he knew that she would understand the Morse Code he was clicking in the back of his throat. "I'm sorry, but I'm not coming home." He clicked his tongue, hoping that she understood what he was doing as well as he did.
Jessica smiled, hanging up the receiver as she pressed a hard kiss to his mouth. "That's my boy."
John forced himself to kiss her back, buying time to break out of his bonds. He pulled on the frayed edges of the ropes, pulling at the fibers until the ropes started to loosen. "Hey…" He whispered, making her pull away from him. "I can't do this yet." He hid his pain as the rope cut into his hands, turning on his best regret face as he looked into her snake eyes. "I just need one night to get over her."
She huffed, but nodded, knowing that he'd be much more enjoyable when he wasn't thinking of the redhead. "Fine, but first thing in the morning I expect a good performance." She undid the button on the waist band of his jeans sliding them down on his thighs a little farther. "Nice boxers." She smirked, taking joy in how red his face got. "Get your fluids up for me in the morning and we'll get you some big boy boxers." She ran a finger over his hips, licking her lips as an attempt to help him think of her while he waited for morning. "I want to feel everything you can give me." With that, she started up the stairs, flipping the lights out on her way up. "Goodnight baby."
John shuddered, listening to each step she took, counting them so he knew which ones creaked and which were silent. He sat in silence for a moment, letting his senses adjust to the dark. He could smell liquor coming from the wet bar in the left corner of the basement, his mouth instantly starting to water at the idea of the taste of a real beer. He knew that there was better booze than his parents had bought here, and he also knew that where there was a wet bar, there was most likely something stronger than beer to drink.
His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, letting him make out shapes in the windowless room. He could just see the outline of a ping-pong table in the corner beside him, but that wasn't going to help him any. He continued to search for something to help him, but he couldn't see far enough to know exactly what he was dealing with.
He pulled on the rope fibers, hissing as they cut into his already raw fingers. "Fuck." He tilted his head back, pushing the base of his skull into the top of the wooden chair. He had to find another way to get out of this, because at this rate he wouldn't have anything put nubs on his hands.
He thought for a moment, trying to find another way out. If she'd put him in chains and locks he could get out of that easy. But this was some sailing rope, that had obviously been through a few years at sea. He felt around the back of the chair, feeling for a spot that might be splintered of rougher than the rest. He paused when he heard a floorboard creak right above him, eyes going wide at the idea of someone catching him in the act of escape with his pants halfway off. He sighed as the footsteps moved on, going back to rubbing the rope on the back of his seat.
Heat built up between his wrists, burning his flesh as he rubbed faster in a furious attempt to break his bonds. He shut his eyes tight against the pain he was causing himself, knowing that he didn't have much time to get to the police station where he could call Claire without the fear of getting caught by Medusa. He let a tear roll down his cheek, feeling his skin become raw and start to bleed from the friction. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." He gasped as the ropes finally gave, letting his arms hang loose as his sides. "Oh, finally." He dabbed his rope burned skin with his t-shirt, letting the blood soak into the fabric. "Mom's gonna kill me once she sees this." He bent forward finding the knots in the ropes securing his ankles to the legs of the chair, happy that these weren't quite as tight as the ones around his hands had been.
He stood, grabbing his pants as they started to fall farther down his legs. "Fucking psycho." He buttoned the waistband, pulling his zipper up as he started walking around to get familiar with his surroundings. "God, I hope Claire got the message." He ran a hand along the bar, knowing that he was close to a light switch.
His mind seemed to pull him toward the mini fridge, making him fight against his addictions. "It won't be better than the meth." He reminded himself, his hand landing on the light switch. He flipped it up, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the light. "Alright, first things first, find my shit." He looked around the basement, steering clear of the bar. "Are you kidding me?" He looked behind the bar, noticing that his wallet, and flannel were under a case of beer. "Really? Gotta tempt me?" He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the door to the stairway open. "Fuck…"
The footsteps weren't Jessica's light step, instead they were the familiar clump of Peter. "Hey, dick wad." He barked, dropping the bowl of oat meal when he realized that John was no longer in the chair he'd been tied too. "Where the hell are you?"
John took the chain on his wallet into his hand, knowing what damage a small chain like that could cause from his own experience. He'd promised himself that he would never cause that pain to another human being unless he needed to, and right now, with Peter towering over him and in his own weakened state, he knew it was possible he would need it. He crawled forward, knowing there was a good chance he'd get caught. "SHIT!" He screamed as Peter lifted him by his shirt collar.
"What are you doing?" He pushed the smaller teen into the wall, taking pleasure in the fact that John's strength wasn't coming back as quickly as it could have. "You're supposed to stay here for Jessica." He spat, giving John a rough shake. "For some God-awful reason, she wants your dick in her." He hated to think about this lowlife knocking up his crush, but he would give her anything she wanted.
John tilted his head slightly, dark eyes searching the blue depths of the man before him. "You like her." He smirked, relieved that he had a chance to get out of here. "You want to be the one to slip her the hot beef injection." He pushed Peter's arms off of his shoulders, knowing that he'd struck the right chord. "Well, be my guest man." He picked up the case of beer, placing it on the counter as he wrapped his flannel around his hips.
"You're crazy right? You don't want to fuck her?" Peter asked, watching as John's hand lingered on the bottles. "You want to drink that shit, but you don't want to fuck a beautiful woman like her."
John pulled his hand back, knowing that he couldn't relapse before he'd spent his first night in the new house. "Listen man, I already have a hot chick to deflower when the time is right." He turned to the jock, smirking at the thought of he and Claire's wedding night. "But I'm not letting this region," He wave his hand in a circle over his hips and thighs, "Anywhere near Medusa."
"Really think she's that bad, huh?" Peter asked, noticing how John seemed to be crawling out of his skin with discomfort and cravings for alcohol.
John scoffed, averting his gaze from the hundreds of booze bottles around him. "To scared she'll turn it to stone." He started for the stairs, knowing that if he stayed in that room any longer he was risking giving into his demons. "Listen, if you get me to the police station, I will do anything you want. Just get me the fuck outta here."
Peter nodded, realizing for the first time just how good of a guy Bender really could be. "You don't want me to take you home?" He asked, following the smaller teen up the stairs.
John nodded, sneeking out of the basement and out of the house. "It'll be less trouble if I go to the cops to call Clarissa. She gets her panties in a knot if something stupid happens and I don't follow the rules." He climbed into Peter's truck, pressing a hand to his head as it started to pound from the blow he'd taken. "What the hell did you hit me with?" He asked, letting Peter start the vehicle and back out of the driveway.
"A rock." He stated, turning toward the police station. "I didn't think I got you as hard as I did."
John nodded, grimacing at the knowledge that the parents would make him go to the hospital. "Thanks man. This'll be the… I wanna say fifth hospital visit in as many months."
"Who says you're going to the hospital?"
John felt his muscles start to tense up, panic going through him at the possibility of another seizure. "Pull over." He ordered, unbuckling his seatbelt and waving at Peter to follow. "Okay…" he took a deep breath, clenching his fists as his brain started to become fuzzy, "if I go down, I need you to make sure I don't hit my head, or bite my tongue." He took Peter's hands and showed him exactly what to do if a seizure hit. "Just like that." He felt another twitch go through him, knowing that he should probably get a little lower to the ground incase his body wasn't just faking him out. "And whatever you do… do not freak out. That only makes them worse." He knelt on the pavement, making sure that Peter was close enough to jump in if he was needed.
"What are you talking about?" Peter asked, fear rising in his chest at what John was talking about.
"If I have a seizure." He rolled onto his back, making sure that his head would be easy to grab in an emergency. "I'm not quite over them yet." He winced as the muscles in his side contracted to the point that it caused him pain. "Get your ass down here." He ordered, as the seizure took hold.
Peter, cradled John's head, praying that he was doing it right. He listened to John's grunts and groans of pain, for the first time realizing just how much he'd gone through. He'd never known how fragile the burner could be, how hard it was to recover from the drugs he'd put into his system.
John's body gave a particularly hard lurch, and like that the seizure had ended. "Fuck…" John gasped, letting his head rest in Peter's hands while he recovered. "That never gets easier." He slowly pushed himself away from the jock, knowing better than to move to fast or he risked vomiting all over the sidewalk. "Thanks man."
Peter nodded, helping him into the truck once more. "It wouldn't have been safer in the truck?" He asked, taking in the pale tone of John's skin. "I mean, it's all padded and soft."
John shook his head, pulling on his seatbelt. "Too much to hit or get tangled in." I tugged on the belt, showing how it easily wrapped around his arm. "I could break something in the seatbelt, I could break your windows, and I can even choke myself with the belt of even your varsity jacket in the back."
"Damn…" Peter turned the keys in the ignition, starting back on his route to the police station. "Don't you have meds for that?"
John shook his head, resisting the urge to sleep. "I don't need them on a regular basis anymore. They only hit if I get to worked up."
Peter pulled to a stop in the parking lot of the police station. "Are they any better?" He asked, helping John out of the vehicle and into the station.
John nodded, taking a seat in the holding area that he'd seen way too many of. "Yeah, they only last a few minutes now." He dug in his pockets for the spare change he always had on him. "They used to last longer than that." He counted up a couple dollars in quarters, before stepping over to the pay phone to call his family.
"Can I help you, young man?" Asked one of the cops working, he watched John through the bullet proof glass trying to put his finger on where he'd seen the kid before.
"Just have to call my family." He stated, leaning against the wall. "Thanks for the concern."
"You're that kid that was on the news a few months ago. The one with the-"
"Meth addiction?" John asked, hanging the phone up and placing his money back in his pocket. "It wasn't my choice to have that poison forced into me." He tilted his head, recognizing a resemblance to Jessica. "You wouldn't happen to be related to Jessica Jenkins, would you?"