Tainted -- Chapter 2
Here's chapter two, guys, and it's a bit darker... things will get progressively darker from here for a little bit... again, watch out if you are easily triggered by violent imagery.
Thanks for all the kind feedback on the first chapter, guys, you have no idea how much it means :) I hope you like this chapter as well.
*hugs*
DoS
Title: Tainted
Beta: the lovely and talented amproof :P
Pairing: Kris/Adam FS and possibly more eventually, temporary Kris/OFC
Rating: R
Warnings: non-con(off page), violence, torture
Disclaimer: none of this ever happened and God I hope it never does. Just fiction, and the people in the story are not mine, obviously :P
Summary: Someone wants Adam out of the way, and they'll go to any lengths to make that happen. Can Kris's and Adam's friendship survive this ultimate test?
Chapter Two
Adam’s mind raced as he tried to fight off the panic surging against his thoughts, nearly swallowing them up in a wave of wordless, helpless terror. He knew if he allowed that to happen, he’d never get out of this; he had to stay calm, had to focus, had to find a way to just live through whatever these guys had planned.
That unanswered question was, however, the most terrifying part of the whole situation.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked again quietly, managing with a supreme effort to keep his voice level and calm. “What is this about?”
But he was terribly afraid that he already knew.
Stupid little faggot…
The vicious words echoed in his mind, spinning until he felt dizzy and sick. If this was about money, or publicity, or something like that, there was a good chance that he could come out of it relatively unharmed. Hopefully, whoever they were asking for said money or notoriety could provide it, and he would be released.
But if this was about nothing more than people who hated him for who he was, taking him just to punish him for that…
God… I’m so going to die…
Adam winced as he felt a harsh hand grasp his hair, tightening slowly and drawing his head back, exposing his throat and making him feel sickeningly vulnerable. His bound fists flexed uselessly against the cuffs that held them behind his back, and he tried his best to stay calm as he sensed his captor edging in closer beside him, giving a vicious yank on his hair that made him bite back a startled cry of pain.
“I’ve got an idea, Adam,” the man said in a frighteningly low, soft voice, as his free hand reached across Adam’s waist and came to rest low on his hip, making his stomach lurch with panic. “You can keep your stupid mouth shut… and I’ll tell you when I want you to… open it…”
A hot rush of nausea filled Adam’s throat at the clear implication in the man’s words and touch, and he tried to suppress the shudder of revulsion that ran through him.
No… please, no, don’t let them... oh God, please… not that…
******************************
“No. No way they can make us do this. They are out of their freaking minds!”
Kris paced back and forth across the floor of his hotel room, hands waving wildly as he expressed his frustrated fury. Danny sat on the bed, watching him with grim, solemn eyes. Less than an hour earlier, the producers had met with the nine remaining Idols and given them an announcement regarding the status of the tour.
That announcement had left Kris in a state of helpless, outraged fury.
Danny had followed Kris and Larissa to Kris’s room - but now, the expression on his face made it clear that he probably wished he hadn’t. His lips parted a few moments before he actually spoke, choosing his words cautiously in an attempt to somehow calm the angry Idol.
“I’m sorry, Kris. I know how you feel about this, but - they actually can make us do this. And… to be honest… they don’t really have much of a choice. The arenas are sold out in every city left on the tour…”
“I don’t give a damn if they’re sold out or not! We are not going on with this tour until we know he’s okay!” Kris insisted, feeling a perverse sense of satisfaction at the startled look on Danny’s face as the mild curse word left his lips.
Mild or not, it was stronger language than Danny had heard from Kris before. It was stronger language than Kris could remember using before, for that matter; but his fury overwhelmed any sense of guilt he might have felt. He was outraged on behalf of his friend, desperate to help him, and yet helpless to do either.
The producers had informed them that, while everyone involved with the tour was “deeply concerned” for Adam’s “well-being”, if he wasn’t found within the next twenty-four hours, they would be pulling out and heading for the next show anyway. Too much time and money had been invested to let the tour collapse completely; and there was really nothing the Idols themselves could do to help find Adam here.
Adam’s family had been informed of what little they knew within hours of Adam’s disappearance, and his parents and brother had flown into town immediately. They were staying at a different hotel under fake names to protect them - and Adam - from the media storm that would surely have occurred if anyone in the press had found out they were in town. Of course, the producers assumed that Adam’s family being close by to be there for him when he was found was good enough.
Kris thought they were forgetting one very vital point.
He and Adam basically were family.
Kris kept trying to figure out how it had happened in the first place. There had apparently been some kind of a mix-up with the arena’s security; the guard Kris had asked to get Adam back to the bus had not worked for the arena at all. No one knew who he was or how he’d managed to get so close to the Idols undetected.
Adam had been missing for just over forty-eight hours.
“We’ve already cancelled two shows, Kris,” Danny reminded him gently. “I know it doesn’t matter to you, but that’s a lot of money down the drain for the people who put this all together. I know you’re worried; we all are. But… we can’t just stay here, the whole tour, stuck in one city until he decides to show up again…”
Kris’s eyes narrowed in indignant challenge as he took a step closer to Danny, feeling a rush of defensive rage for his friend who was not there to defend himself against the subtle accusation. “And just what is that supposed to mean?” His voice was low and full of barely controlled anger. “What, you think he just took off because he felt like it? You really think he’d do that!”
Danny eyed Kris warily as he slowly stood and took a backward step toward the night stand next to the bed - a subconscious reaction to the threat he perceived in Kris’s actions. “No,” he backpedaled. “I… didn’t say that. It’s just… it’s smart that they haven’t let it get out that Adam’s disappeared. They can use his illness to explain why he’s not continuing the tour; but… well… that doesn’t explain why these last few shows were cancelled for everyone… why we’re still here… and the media’s trying to find out, and… well, you know what people would say, if… if this did get out…”
Danny was stumbling over his words, taking a step back, despite the fact that he towered over Kris. Neither Danny, nor most of the others involved with the tour, had ever seen Kris really angry. At the moment, however, he wasn’t all that concerned with maintaining his laid-back Southern boy image.
Gokey just really shouldn’t have gone there.
“What would they say?” Kris demanded. “What are you suggesting, exactly? What, because he’s got this image he portrays on stage - because he’s unapologetic about who he is - the press is going to somehow twist this to look like he just took off and didn’t tell anyone? Like this is his fault, somehow? There was a known security leak!”
“I know that, Kris, and you know that, but… rumors…”
“He is in danger, and you’re worried about rumors?”
Kris nearly exploded in frustration. He barely noticed Larissa coming out of the bathroom behind him and putting a gently restraining hand on his arm. He knew it was irrational, but he wanted to jerk his arm away. He immediately felt bad. This wasn’t her fault; he just really did not want to be calmed down right now.
He’d have been out searching for Adam himself if he hadn’t known how useless an effort that would be. Any attempts he made would have been thwarted by any number of people who happened to recognize him; and if he did come anywhere close to finding Adam, whoever was holding him could be easily alerted to the fact by the crazy amount of excitement and activity that always seemed to follow in Kris’s wake these days.
No, Kris knew he was helping more by not helping - by sticking close to the others and taking up for Adam’s rights in his absence.
“I know you don’t want to hear this,” Danny continued, his voice quiet and calm as he met Kris’s eyes with a solemn gaze. “But we’re all still under contract, and we still have over thirty concerts left. Too much money has already been invested to let the tour fall apart. I know it seems harsh and insensitive, but we’re really not helping anything by just sitting here waiting for news. The police are in the middle of a full-blown investigation, and it’s their job to find him.”
He hesitated over the words before adding, “It’s… our job to make sure that… the show goes on.” He paused before concluding sympathetically, “It’s… what Adam would want.”
That was simply too much for Kris to take.
He lunged toward Danny, fists clenched at his sides, only stopped by Larissa, who grabbed his arm with a gasp of alarm and tried to pull him back.
“Kris… no!”
He barely managed to rein in his temper, trembling with the effort of restraining himself from physically attacking Danny. He had stood there and listened to Danny’s excuses and calm reasoning for why they should simply abandon Adam and go on as if nothing had happened; and he had had more than enough.
“How do you get off, thinking you even have the first clue what Adam would want?” he seethed, his voice more controlled but no less furious. “You don’t even know him! You’ve never cared to, have you? All you care about is what this latest setback is gonna do to your career! Well maybe I should put this in terms you’ll understand.”
This time, Kris did shrug off Larissa’s touch, but not before giving her a reassuring glance, trying to silently assure her that he was not going to actually take the other guy’s head off, no matter how badly he wanted to do so. She uncertainly let go, and he took another step toward Danny, who uneasily took another step back, apparently not quite as sure of Kris’s control as Larissa was.
“Here’s what I think you’re forgetting, Danny,” Kris continued, a cold smile touching his lips as he met Danny's gaze in challenge. “It is absolutely in our best interest to do everything in our power to help make sure he’s all right. It doesn’t matter who won. You think half the fans, television crews, and journalists would show up if he wasn’t on the tour? Without Adam - there is no show.” He was quiet for a moment, finally backing down a little with an extreme effort, his voice softer when he continued, “Not for me, anyway. I’m not going anywhere until I know he’s all right.”
Danny drew in a deep breath, letting it out in a shaky sigh. He shook his head slowly, his tone patient and gently reproving. “Kris…”
“Get out.”
Danny hesitated just a moment before he wisely complied, leaving Kris alone with his girlfriend and the tumultuous emotions swirling through him.
He just stood there for a long moment, struggling against the wave of fear and despair that threatened to overwhelm him, before finally sinking down on the edge of the bed. Physically and emotionally drained by the encounter with Danny in addition to the fear and uncertainty of the last two days, Kris relaxed his clenched fists with an effort and rested his head in his trembling hands.
Larissa sat down slowly beside him, wrapping a tentative arm around him and resting her head on his shoulder in an attempt at comfort. “Shhh,” she murmured when his shoulders began to tremble slightly. “It’s gonna be all right, baby. They’ll find him. I’m sure he’s fine.”
“How can you be?” Kris raised his head to meet her gaze, his own brimming with the tears he was struggling to hold back. “He’s disappeared, and we have no idea what might have happened to him - why that guy was pretending to be security - where he might have taken him… How can you be sure of anything?”
Larissa was quiet for a moment. She studied his expression with compassion and sympathy as she raised gentle fingers to brush tenderly against his cheek. “I’m sure of one thing,” she insisted quietly. “It’s going to be okay, honey. Whatever happens - I’m here for you. Everything’s going to be all right.”
Kris stared at her in disbelief for a long moment, not quite able to process her meaningless words, before slowly shaking his head in denial. “No. No, it’s not. Not if he’s not all right.” He paused a moment, before adding earnestly, “Rissa… he’s my best friend. If somebody’s hurt him… how can that possibly be all right?”
“Well, it’s not,” Larissa hurriedly amended, eyes downcast for a moment before looking up at him again. “Of course it’s not all right. I’m just saying… no matter what happens… at least we’ve always got each other. Right?”
No matter what happens? What is that supposed to mean? If anything happens to Adam…
Finding little comfort in her words, Kris nodded numbly as he looked away, once again lost in his own troubling thoughts. His best friend had disappeared - probably abducted or worse - and there was nothing he could do about it but sit here uselessly arguing about the producers’ decision, and trying to do what he could to ensure that Adam was not simply left behind and cast aside like so much useless garbage.
And a lot of good that does. He’s still out there, wherever he is… unable to let us know what’s happened or if he’s okay or if he’s even… God… No, can’t even think… No… he has to be okay… he has to be…
**********************************
At that moment, Adam was very far from okay.
He was sitting on a cold stone floor, his knees folded half-under him, his back against the wall, his cuffed wrists fastened to the wall with a very short chain that kept them suspended uncomfortably over his head. They’d been like that for several hours now, and the pain and tingling had subsided to a frightening numbness that made him wonder about things he’d never given much thought before - things like cell death and nerve damage.
He was still blindfolded - had not been allowed his sight since he’d been taken - and now, he’d been gagged as well, a thick cloth tied into his mouth almost as soon as they’d brought him here.
Of course. They couldn’t have allowed anyone to hear his screams.
That wasn’t an issue anymore. Between the sickness he’d already been struggling with when he’d been taken, and the hours of desperate, pleading cries muffled by the gag in his mouth, Adam was no longer able to scream - at least not at a level where there was a risk of anyone hearing him.
Everything hurt.
He knew it would not be long before his captor returned to torment him again. Since they’d chained him up in this room, he’d only been made aware of the presence of one of them - the man in the ski mask. The other might have been there, or not; Adam couldn’t tell with the blindfold on. All he knew was that the masked man demanded his full attention - and had ways of ensuring that he got it.
Every couple of hours his captor would come into the cold stone room in which they were keeping him, and set about causing him so much pain that he longed for death to ease it. His clothes were in tatters - first soaked, now stiff with his own blood - and his body was in even worse condition. Adam had lost count of the number of blows he’d taken - the number of cuts that had been made into his vulnerable flesh - the number of vicious burns that had been inflicted upon him.
His kidnapper seemed to take pleasure in coming up with new and more inventive ways of making him suffer, laughing at his pitiful whimpers and stifled cries of anguish. He seemed to feed on Adam’s pain, relishing the suffering he was causing his helpless captive. Sometimes he took the gag off when he hurt him, and Adam was sure that it was simply because he enjoyed hearing him cry and beg - and between his sore throat and the screams that had torn his voice to shreds, it wasn’t as if there was a chance of his being heard, anyway.
Every time, Adam resolved that next time, he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He was usually left alone for long enough to regain control of his emotions, to calm down and get it together as best he could. But by now he’d reached the point that merely the sound of the opening door or footsteps on the floor was enough to make his resolve crumble and reduce him to pleading tears.
Adam hadn’t slept since he’d been taken, at least not for more than a few fitful minutes at a time. Even the hours spent in silent isolation in his makeshift prison were filled with the fear and uncertainty of never knowing when his tormentor would return to continue his torture.
He’d had nothing to eat since his capture, and only a little water to drink. He’d felt feverish and disoriented for the past day and a half, as the sickness that had before been little more than an inconvenience now ran rampant through his weakened body.
He’d been offered no explanation yet for why this was happening to him.
He hovered between consciousness and oblivion, every part of him vacillating between cold, quiet numbness and screaming agony. He no longer hoped for escape or rescue, but only for the release of death when his captor finally got tired of his sadistic games - except in the moments when his captor used threats of death to torment him. It was then that Adam remembered that he did yet possess the will to survival, in spite of it all. He would tremble in dreadful anticipation of the killing blow, or cut, or bullet, and remember that life was still something to cling to, despite what he was suffering.
It was the only thing he could think of to be grateful for in this place of endless suffering.
At the moment, he was alone in his unseen prison - but he knew it wouldn’t last.
As if in answer to his thoughts, the door to the room opened with a metallic crash, and though the last remnants of his pride dictated that he should not react, he could not suppress a flinch at the sound of harsh footsteps approaching across the stone. He steeled himself not to show his terror, but everything within him was quaking, falling apart, as his mind echoed a desperate, hopeless plea.
No… no, please… not again...
TBC...