Silent

17. No horses, no Zorro, no hero.

It was a strange feeling, being seated in the car, a strange feeling to see the blue sky and the sun that shone undisturbed by how his life had turned into a strange nightmare he couldn't wake up from. The monster, his captor, who was casually reading through his papers, was seated next to him. 

A Mexican man, the same man who had driven them earlier, drove the car. They were heading back to the airport, the same private plane that would take him to the dawn of another nightmare.

At that point, Michael was unsure what to expect and so, he chose to be happy with being able to see the blue sky and the sun as stifling as it was. He chose to focus on the fact that though he was still a prisoner without visible shackles, he could see the sun and see that the world around them still existed. The world may have looked similar as he remembered and yet... the colors were not as bright. He frowned, observing the scenery as they drove. The world existed, but it had forever changed.

His chest felt heavy, tears burning in his eyes. How he longed for his freedom. The world was there, but fear shackled him. And he dreamt of a prince on a white horse, or... Zorro.

Zorro would ride on a black horse. The car would have to stop and he'd get out and... Zorro would extend his hand to him, lift him up and together they would ride, ride away to his secret place. The monsters would not find them there. Zorro, who liked other men, who would be gentle and hold him without demands, hold him and... He would... Michael would ask him to take him home. His parents would welcome him with open arms... His mother would hold him, hold him so tight and yet softly, hold him until his nightmare would melt away.

His chest felt so heavy, the tears burned his eyes and he gazed at the sky and the road. Cars driving by... but no horses, no Zorro, no hero.

And then they were at the airport. There were people, but no Zorro, no hero, no prince who'd look and see his silent distress. He walked next to the monster, trying to look calm and normal. That's how the monster had instructed. It would be foolish to try something. I know lots of people. Authorities are on my side. Try something and you and your loved ones will suffer dearly. Fear kept him silent. Unsure who to trust, what to believe. He didn't want his family to be hurt by his mistake any more than they already had. If Ricky had arranged Isabella's murder, maybe he could really do that to his parents as well? Or ... Tommy... Michael's eyes burned, but he could not cry.

He kept silent. They passed the security easily, the cry for help he did not dare to voice, burning in his throat. I'm Michael Wills, from  Plymouth England. I am not with this man by choice. But one sharp look was all it took from the monster to smother the burning cry.

They boarded the plane and tears finally rolled down his cheeks, but no hero would see them, no savior would come to save him from this journey to hell he had already had a bitter taste of.

**

Christmas was two weeks away. The streets of New York were decorated beautifully, and Michael again had to fight against his tears. He sat in the car, driven by one of the monster's men, taking them towards a life he did not want to live. He did not wish for death either. He wished to live the life he wanted, in freedom and free of fear that stole his voice.

The apartment building was grand. Again there were people, so many people, and Michael looked around but saw no hero, saw no Batman to whisk him away. Now he dreamt of Batman, because New York was no city for Zorro and a prince on a white horse did not fit the picture either.

Some part of him, of course, tried to convince himself that he could scream and people would listen, and they would summon police, but the monster had convinced him of their corruption. They would return him to him, he would suffer, his family would suffer and so, once more, fear kept him silent.

He needed time to think, to plan, and one day he would find a way out. One day he would meet a hero or find it in himself to be one. A day of judgment would fall to his captor, and till it would, he would dream of the ways it would. He would dream of a hero, a way, a miracle. He would pray, and he shouldn't give up on his fate. One day. There would be a day, and he'd find a way.

The monster had not lied about his wealth. It became obvious when they entered the apartment on the top floor of the tall building. Michael looked around as the lights were turned on and his lips parted at the sight of the large windows overlooking the city. The heavy door was closed behind them, and he could feel the monster's pressuring presence behind him. They were alone.

"Welcome home, darling," the monster spoke, his hands lowering on his shoulders to help his jacket off. "Are you impressed?" he asked and Michael tried to swallow down the heavy lump down that had settled in his throat. The truth was that he would have been. The boy who had left his home with dreams of a better life with a man who cared for him, would have been impressed. Now it was... A gilded prison, with horrors that would happen inside these walls. Horrors he was still partly unaware of, but he knew the monster considered him a slave to his twisted desires and he would have no voice to stop it.

Offering him a glass of wine Michael had no taste for, the monster went over the rules while showing off the apartment. He was to stay in the apartment, always be respectful and obedient. He would be expected to prepare dinner for them, after all, didn't he like to cook? The monster taunted him. Michael kept silent. There was no use to argue.

When Ricky would be away the front door would be locked and there were cameras and security. There was no phone for him to use, the only phones would be inside locked doors. "Later, when I'm sure you have learned your place, you get more liberties to move."

Another prison, more grander than the previous, but still a prison.

"Come, let me show you your room," Ricky said next and Michael warily followed. Dreading for some horrible surprise that would follow. The room, however, was normal, clean and spacious, with everything a young college boy could want for. But it was just a setup. 

"I know how you love to read," the monster smiled next to him when Michael eyed the bookshelf quietly. And he looked at the monster, confused, and unsure. There was darkness buried under this act of kindness. The room looked pleasant, with a connected bathroom and a large bed, desk situated in front of the window overlooking the city with tall buildings and skyscrapers. "Aren't you going to say anything?" Ricky asked and his voice now had a cold ring to it. Michael forced a smile that felt entirely fake but he hoped the monster would not see through it or mind if he did.

"It's a beautiful room," he breathed, and the monster cocked his brow, expecting something more. "T-thank you... uncle,"In this twisted game, that was the term the monster wanted him to use, and it made him sick to his stomach.

There was another door to the room that the monster showed him, a door that connected the room to Ricky's bedroom, giving him easy access. Michael's heart felt heavy. The unwelcome sexual visits would continue without his own control, of course he had known, but still it didn't make it any easier to accept.

And sure enough, the monster took his glass, wine still left in it, and placed it on the table before using a remote that drew a heavy curtain down. "Now, take your clothes off, Michael. Do your best to arouse me." The monster smirked, pulling up a chair on which he sat. "Well, I'm waiting," he said and took a sip of his wine, gazing at him with such predatory hunger that made Michael sick to wittnes. 

There was no choice. He had no voice, no way to stop. Shakily, reluctantly, his hands moved, opening up a button after a button, silent tears rolling down on his cheeks. It excited the beast, and they both knew it did. The monster's heavy breathing as he watched, and all Michael wanted was to escape. His body could not, but his mind did its best.

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