Chapter 14

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"Where am I?" Dane whispered as he opened his eyes. Nothing was recognizable in the blur he struggled hard to make out anything of. As he sat on the chair with ropes tying his body to it and his head drooping down due to stupor, he saw a figure moving in the fringe of his vision. "Who are you?"

"Worry not, my child," the man whispered. "The drug will wear off soon."

"I wanna go home." Dane sat quietly in helplessness.

"You're home, my sweet handsome boy," the stranger Dane couldn't distinguish spoke with spooky salaciousness.

The boy felt the man's hand caressing his chin and jaw. He couldn't understand what he was doing, but it didn't feel right. It felt wrong for some reason. But aside from mumbling inaudible sound, he could do nothing else to protest.

The man licked his ears. Repulsed, he jerked his head away. The ropes kept him in place, made him unable to make any useful movement. The stranger's hands grazed his arms and traveled down to his abdomen until they reach his crotch.

Dane tried to lurch as he felt the hands groping him, but the ropes pressed against his skin as he moved. "Stop. Please don't." It seemed the blurry man was intent in debasing his innocence. Unable to do anything aside from groan, he had allowed the man to unzip his fly and fondle what was inside.

The smell of the man's saliva that had coated half of his face made him nauseous. "Please stop..." Slowly he lost consciousness.


* * *


Dane woke up with his arms freed but his body still tied to the chair. His buttocks and thighs felt numb. His legs tingled. The contortions on his face as he tried to move indicated discomfort. He felt more awake this time, and he could see things clearly.

In front of him was a plate of food. To its right was a spoon. To the left, a fork. Dane wasn't hungry, though. He longed for home. As he panned his gaze around the well lit kitchen, he looked for his abductor.

A sudden realization of what had happened before the last time he slipped into unconsciousness struck him. He looked at his shirt. It was unbuttoned in some parts. His fly was open. Unable to recall what the man did to him after touching him in different places, he started to shake his head and cry. "Mom..." Sobs filled the kitchen while he buttoned himself up and zipped up his fly.

"How's my boy?"

Dane looked up to see a man with a disfigured face. The familiar stranger beamed at him as he walked closer. The tied up boy could only give him a stark stare. "So this is what you look like ... Frank."

"Eat. Eat," said the man who appeared to have removed his coat, revealing his striped shirt and suspenders. He moved the plate towards his guest.

Dane glared. "I want to go home."

"But, but," Frank said smiling, "you're home." He sliced the beef on the plate, poked the piece with a fork, and moved it to Dane's mouth.

Dane avoided the food. "Mr. Astor --" He frowned as he started rubbing his abdomen.

"Call me Frank, boy," he interrupted him and at the same time caressed his chin and looked at him, his eyeballs moving left and right.

"My stomach hurts. I need to go to the bathroom." Pressing his hands against his abdomen, he curled and grimaced. "I need to go to the toilet, Frank. Please. I can't hold it much longer." He groaned.

"Okay, very well. Be still." Frank hurriedly untying the ropes that held him down.

"Faster, Mr. Astor. It's coming out." Dane panicked and wriggled.

Frank took him to the toilet.

"Do you have medicines for diarrhea?"

"I do, my boy. Just wait." The man walked away, leaving the kid by the bathroom door.

Inside, Dane locked the door and thought out fast. He had to project thoughts of stomachache loudly, because he knew Frank would find out if he was faking the pain. And he figured he would find out anyway, so he had to think and act fast. He looked around to find out any weapon he could use. In the corner of the old bathroom, a mop stood by a toilet bowl cleaner.

Dane waited until he heard a knock. The doorknob wiggled. The boy who hid behind the door breathed deeply as he grasped the cleaner firmly in both hands, thinking loudly that his stomach hurts -- and wondering if his deception was working.

As soon as he twisted the thumb turn, the door creaked open and the glare of the man greeted him. But he had readied the cleaning spray before Frank could launch himself on him. A stream of fine mist ejected from the nozzle as soon as the door opened. Dane had squinted and just as he did, he heard the man scream. Right away, he grabbed the mop and shoved it into the man's distorted face.

Frank rubbed his face zealously, while Dane stepped backwards, pondering on his next move. But the second thoughts were to no avail. Not tonight. He kicked his abductor's knee and watched him groan.

Frank mumbled incomprehensible words and grabbed Dane by the collar. For a moment the kid thought it was over, but he punched the man's face, not minding how small and fragile his fists were. He kicked him in the crotch, and the man was on the floor moaning. Gasping for air, the abductee ran away.

He made it through what seemed to him was a zigzag of corridors until he reached the quiet living room. As his eyes lay sight on the front door, he headed for it. It was locked. He cried, "Help! Somebody help! Mom!" He hit the wood with his open palms as hard as he could. He waited for someone to answer, and someone did.

"You're not going anywhere, you callow boy," the voice reverberated in the room.

Dane turned around but pressed his back against the door as if doing so would help. His eyes darted around, anticipating his attacker.

"I like you, Dane." The reverberation almost rendered the line imperceptible. "Why don't you just stay here?" the reverberating voice pleaded.

Dane shook his head. "No."

"I can take care of you."

Dane struggled to see where the man was. "Let me go, Frank." His voice wavered as he saw him emerge from the corridor that led to his living room.

"I want you to be a good boy, Dane," the man leered.

"Just let me go!" Dane looked around to see if there was anything he could use, if there's anywhere he could slip into to escape. But then the voices. The voices deafened him. He covered his ears. "Stop. Please stop." His head throbbed.

"I've been lurking in the shadows, watching you for a long time, feeding on your psychic energy," Frank hissed.

Dane was on his knees, curling, hands pressed on his ears, fighting to keep the voices away.

"No one was ever like you. You're one of a kind, a telepath with such raw power that can wipe out the minds of a multitude. My psyche fell into obsession with yours. I had to trick you and the others into seeing me as a normal man. I had to distract you with voices to make you think you're going nuts."

"Just let me go." The ten-year-old boy struggled, ground his teeth as his jaws locked together, and grimaced as it was the only thing he could do. 

Frank's voice echoed inside the room, hissing and then suddenly amplifying into a thunderous, deafening sound. "I CAN'T LET YOU GO NOW THAT YOU'RE HERE WITH ME!" He started to walk with an unstable gait towards his victim.

"Stay away from me." But he saw his feet move closer to him. Dane had to act fast, but amid the wild cacophony in his head, he was helpless. He tried reaching Frank's mind, but it was impenetrable. The next thing he felt was a hand on his collar and another around his arm. "Don't touch me!"

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