The Bad Life – Chapter 7.2

Author: nicotine

I obediently stripped and sat on the bed. James kissed me gently and laid me down. I watched quietly as he cuffed me. My left hand was secured to the left bedpost, and my right to the right. The moment the cuffs locked my wrists, I involuntarily twitched my hips. Honestly, I was already getting excited, my lower body stiffening. Finally, he put a blindfold over my eyes. It covered them completely, blocking my vision entirely. I felt James’s hands caress my cheeks and jaw, slide down my neck, cross my torso, and gently spread my thighs. In the darkness, the touch of his hands tickled the back of my neck. I obediently spread my legs. That’s when it happened.

The sound of the door opening rang out.

I asked loudly. It was definitely the sound of the door opening. As if in response, the door slammed shut.

<James? You leaving? James?>

<No, I’m here.>

James’s voice came back. My head spun for a moment.

<…You bastard…>

<Don’t worry. Neither of us is the rough type. We’ll be gentle.>

James’s sly voice echoed. My wrists were cuffed, immovable. I kicked wildly into the air, but nothing connected. James had already slipped off the bed. I ground my teeth. I thrashed my wrists, but it was useless. The cuffs only clinked loudly. The damn blindfold left me blind. I twisted and yanked my arms, but the bed didn’t budge. It was bolted down, unyielding.

I raged and shouted, but my strength eventually gave out. The thought of James and some other guy enjoying my outburst made my body tremble with fury. I was completely naked, not even wearing underwear. Instead of cursing and yelling, I clenched my teeth tightly.

James said playfully.

<Yeah, you bastard. If you’re gonna do it, hurry up and get it over with.>

James burst out laughing. The other guy was oddly silent. With the blindfold, I could only glare and seethe. Then, both my ankles were grabbed by different hands. They pulled them up and tied them to the bedposts with some kind of rope. I was spread wide, practically begging to be fucked.

I was so dumbfounded I almost laughed. James said nothing more. The other guy stayed silent too, so the trailer was filled only with my ragged breathing. Unable to see, I jumped when cold lube touched my hole.

A lot of lube was applied, making my ass slick. Then a warm hand touched me. It rubbed the lube in, fingering me a few times, before I heard a zipper. I gritted my teeth. A hard, erect cock entered. I didn’t know who it was—James or the other guy. I bit my lip, enduring the bare cock going in as it pleased. But when it started moving fully inside, I couldn’t hold back.

I growled through clenched teeth.

A gruff voice replied.

It didn’t sound like James. But the voice was familiar… I’d heard it before… definitely… A hand pulled the blindfold down.

Blinding light flooded in, and I couldn’t see anything. Squinting, I tried to make out the man thrusting into me. When I finally saw his face.

It was like plunging into an endless abyss. Anger and shame vanished, replaced by a shock that blanked my mind. My body went limp, as if all strength had drained away.

<Si… Simon.>

Simon replied in the same detached tone as before, thrusting his hips roughly.

<Ugh! Uh, ugh.>

Each thrust caught my breath in my throat. But it was brief. Soon, no sound came out at all. It was as if wax had been poured from my throat to my lungs, silencing me.

It started with sound. As sound faded, sensation followed. The cold cuffs on my wrists, the ropes on my ankles, even the feeling of the cock filling me below—it all faded until I felt nothing.

All I could do was see. I stared, entranced, into Simon’s eyes. His black gaze pierced my empty mind vividly. Unlike his blank expression, his eyes were wet with sorrow.

Seeing his face after five years, I instinctively searched for traces of the past. At twenty, still boyish… Time and warped memories had turned Simon’s face into a ghostly villain. A boy who burned with a grotesque, chilling desire to cut off my wrists, yet whose surface was as calm as a stormy sea at night. But after five years, the man before me gazed with an indescribable, desperate emotion.

A trembling hand reached out. Larger than before, it slowly covered my vision, just like it had back then. The hand was warm and soft, achingly so. It pressed down my eyelids. I closed my eyes at its touch. The warm hands slid down to my neck. At first, they just rested there, but then they began to tighten. They pressed heavily on my throat, just below my jaw. My mouth opened. My body convulsed, my cuffed wrists thrashing. My eyes shot open.

<H… Hrk! Ugh!>

A choked sound escaped. I looked up at Simon. His face was still a mask of indifference.

<Raymond…>

Simon whispered lowly.

That snapped me awake. It was the exact thing I’d said to Simon five years ago.

My shocked mind lit up like a fire on my tail. I opened my eyes wide and thrashed. This crazy bastard was trying to kill me again! Old memories of surviving flames dragged me back into a swamp. No matter how I struggled, I couldn’t escape the mud. To get out, I had to take their hands. . Them, exactly…

<SIMOOON!>

I twisted and screamed, thrashing like a madman. Simon’s grip finally loosened. He stubbornly tried to grab my throat again. His face didn’t change as he tried to kill me. He was the same lunatic as before. I jerked my jaw and shook my head to dodge him. My blocked breath rushed back, my vision blurring, but I fought like a rabid dog. Finally, instead of choking me, Simon grabbed my ears and head with both hands, pinning me.

We locked eyes. No, I was the only one glaring. Simon’s eyes still shimmered with a deep, strange emotion. I didn’t want to know where it came from. It was just terrifying and hateful. I’d been caught again. Trapped in this wretched game once more. Old memories crashed in, nearly choking me, but no, not this time!

I’d never again fall into his arms with a naive face like I did in Bluebell. Not even now.

My freed breathing flooded my body with sensation. Only then did I notice James, frozen with a terrified look, watching us. That dimwit had no idea what he’d gotten into. But there was something else I realized. Simon’s cock, still inside me, had gone soft at some point. I looked up at him, baring my teeth in a grin.

Simon looked down at me silently.

<What’s a limp bastard like you doing on top, huh, you son of a bitch?>

I shouted, ignoring the pain in my throat. Amid my yelling, a knock came. I froze. James, pale as a ghost, turned around. Without waiting for a response, the door swung open.

The man who entered was unfamiliar.

Seeing him, my body stiffened involuntarily. He was an odd-looking man. His unsettling appearance carried an intimidating presence. His dull, dark blonde hair looked stiff and rough. His sparse black eyebrows were half-missing. Beneath them, his lazy blue eyes glinted coldly and cruelly. His face was sallow, his lips barely visible, and his cheeks and jaw were smooth, without sideburns or stubble. Despite the sweltering summer, he wore a suit with a neatly tied tie. He even had leather gloves on.

The man crossed the silent trailer in just a few steps. His dress shoes clicked ominously.

He stood by the bed, staring down at me. Whether it was his aura or his intimidating presence, I couldn’t speak. I just stared up at him, frozen.

He looked at me, then took off his gloves. His thick hands were eerily pale, glistening as if oiled. He touched my cheek. A chill ran down my spine, my stomach icing over from his cold hand.

His fingers slid down my cheek to my neck. A sudden shiver hit me. If my hands weren’t cuffed, I’d have swatted his hand away… No, even without cuffs, I wouldn’t have moved. I couldn’t breathe, staring blankly at his hand.

His hand slithered down like a snake. It caressed my throat, where Simon had gripped, then moved to my chest. The eerily cold hand traced my nipple, teasingly, then crossed my stomach slowly. It was a strange feeling. He moved as if slicing my stomach with his fingers. His hand stopped at my cock. I held my breath, staring at his face. There was something inhuman and uncanny about him. He didn’t touch my cock and withdrew his hand.

Putting his gloves back on, he suddenly locked eyes with me.

He muttered. At first, I was too stunned to notice, but now I realized his voice was grating. It lacked any natural tone. Every word irritated my ears. His voice hissed disgustingly, as if his vocal cords were twisted or crushed.

<Let’s start by pulling out your tongue. I’ve got the tools.>

At twenty, in Bluebell, I’d faced those boys. I’d spent my early twenties on battlefields. To my ears, his words were dead serious.

He would pull out my tongue. Right now, as he said.

The moment I was certain, Simon slipped out from under me. He hadn’t said a word since the man entered. He quietly adjusted his pants and got off the bed. The man stepped toward the door.

Before I could scream, James stepped forward, his jaw trembling.

<Wait, wait… Are you serious? Pull out his tongue? Hey, Caster… Caster! Are you insane? His tongue!>

The man turned to James. Then his eyes flicked to the clock on the wall.

<Yeah, it’s still early.>

The man said in his chilling voice.

<But… no… why… the tongue… just gag him… put a gag on him…>

James stammered incoherently.

<It’s better if he can’t talk. This kid’s good at lying.>

Simon turned to me, speaking dryly. At the same time, both the man and James looked at me. Naked, helplessly bound like a frog, I stared up at the three men. My breath was short, my heart pounded wildly, and the world seemed to spin. I looked from terrified James to impassive Simon to the eerie man. My throat itched. Glaring into the man’s blue eyes, I stuck out my tongue and smirked. Let these bastards try to cut it off. Losing a tongue is better than losing a hand, isn’t it?

In that moment, the man, with an expressionless face, opened his mouth wide and let out a hollow, grotesque laugh. His facial muscles didn’t move an inch—just his mouth gaped, releasing an empty, eerie sound. We all froze at the laugh. The air itself seemed to grow cold. The man stopped laughing and said.

With that, he left the trailer. Simon followed him out. James hesitated, glanced at my face, and then fled the trailer like he was running for his life. I was left alone, naked, my hips exposed to the empty air with my ankles raised.

<Hh… ugh, hah, hah…>

My breath came in spasms. My head spun. My vision blurred and sharpened, like a camera lens adjusting focus. Blood rushed to my head, and my body burned. The fear that had been crouching, suppressed deep within me for so long, slowly began to rise.

Simon. Simon… .

Until now, I’d treated him like he was dead. After leaving Bluebell, I deliberately erased his name. Our reunion was never supposed to happen in this lifetime. If we did meet, it would mean a repeat of Bluebell. So I forgot all the survivors of Bluebell. The dead, too, I forgot. Or rather, I dulled them. If they dulled, they’d lose their intensity, and with time, they’d fade completely… Just as my father’s death had worn away over the years, I thought the remnants of hatred and fear would fade too…

But I was wrong. Death can be forgotten, but life never is. The proof was Simon’s return. Simon came back to rape me, conspire with a stranger, and leave another mark of abuse on me. And Simon would surely kill me. The price for failing to kill him in Bluebell five years ago would be paid here in Laverham. Fear swept through my entire body. But

Hatred

Overpowered the fear. The twenty-year-old boy who was unilaterally abused in Bluebell’s grim boarding school died in that fire. Since escaping Bluebell, I was no longer that boy and never became him again. I turned my head to the door. Beyond the tightly shut door, no sound came.

Simon. You’ll take my tongue, seeking compensation for your loss and frustration, but I’ll give you nothing… I won’t try to kill you anymore either. That day’s flames, the passage of time, and the life I’ve lived shattered the ignorance of the past. Now I understand. The pain of not capturing me hurts you far more than the pain of being killed by me.

I won’t kill Simon. I’ll just slip out of his grasp. Let him yearn for me, chase me, and never dull my existence—I’ll vanish from his sight again. I won’t waste time seeking revenge anymore.

Why Simon was here, how he found out about me, what he’d been doing all this time, why he used the alias , what his relationship was with that stranger, and what happened to George, who survived with him… I had many questions but wanted no answers. Finding answers wasn’t my job. My job was to survive again, to disappear before Simon’s eyes, leaving him with an indelible sense of loss and hatred.

For now, there was nothing I could do. My wrists were bound to the bedposts, with no way out. I could only prepare and wait. They’d be back soon. James with fear, Simon with unease, and the stranger…

I couldn’t figure out the stranger. Thinking of him brought back his eerily cold hand, making me shudder. It didn’t feel like human body heat or human skin. It wasn’t human. It was just an alien sensation I couldn’t describe otherwise.

And I knew exactly one person with hands that cold. I swallowed dryly. The stranger made me uneasy.

As expected, the door soon opened again, and thankfully, it was James. He was the easiest to deal with right now. His face was pale, drained of color. He hesitated at the door, then approached nervously. He licked his dry lips and stood by the bed.

I spoke first.

I rattled my cuffed wrists.

James, clearly terrified, bit his lip. Trembling, he muttered.

<…It’s too late.>

I narrowed my eyes and glared at him. He continued.

Unable to finish, James clutched his face and sank to the floor. I wasn’t about to get caught up in his fear. I said coldly.

<He’s not coming to cut out my tongue right now, so what’s too late? Hurry up and uncuff…>

Before I could finish, the door swung open again. It was Simon. I stopped talking and looked at him. Simon entered the trailer, speaking in a flat tone.

<James, don’t listen to him.>

Behind Simon, the stranger appeared.

They approached the bed without speaking. The stranger carried a black briefcase with a handle. From the classy bag, fit for a gentleman, he pulled out handcuffs and shackles. I laughed in disbelief. As I laughed, the stranger stared at me with his menacing, glossy yellow face. Both he and Simon climbed onto the bed.

The stranger roughly gagged me. Their movements were swift and precise, clearly practiced. They were formidable. They shackled my ankles, flipped me over, and cuffed my hands behind my back. The stranger’s hands were terrifyingly cold, while Simon’s were as warm as they were at twenty. I thrashed even after being bound, but it was futile. While the stranger and Simon pinned me down, James cleared out the trailer’s closet.

The closet was a cramped, partitioned space where I’d have to fold myself in half to fit. They planned to lock me in there. They lifted me off the bed and dragged me over. I didn’t go quietly. My thrashing knocked over and broke everything on the desk. In the chaos, I briefly slipped from their grip. Bound hand and foot, I crawled to escape, but they grabbed my neck and dragged me back.

In the end, I was stuffed into the tiny space, knees bent, thighs pressed against my chest, unable to lift my head. The closet was so tight I couldn’t move, and its walls were solid. The door closed in front of me. Moments later, I heard a lock click outside.

Beyond the door, the stranger hissed.

Footsteps sounded. The door opened. The door closed. Silence followed.

I focused on my breathing. I waited for it to calm, listening intently. It was quiet beyond the closet. But I didn’t let my guard down. They might be pretending to leave, staying to watch. From my enlistment until now, I’d honed patience and persistence. I waited for a mistake, a sound from those watching, a chance to escape.

I could barely move. My arms were cuffed behind me, my ankles shackled. The closet was impossibly tight, my chest and thighs pressed together, leaving no room to budge. The only fortunate thing was that I faced the door. If I’d been facing inward, I wouldn’t even have a chance to try escaping.

Yes, I could escape. They overlooked one thing. I was a soldier with multiple deployments. Trained to stay rational in the worst situations, I could find the next best option. I wasn’t just taught to escape but to escape effectively. They didn’t notice what I hid in my palm. In my sweat-soaked hand was a binder clip.

I’d thrashed while being dragged to the closet for this reason. I’d deliberately bumped the desk, spilling its contents. My target was James’s script, held together by a binder clip. Pretending to resist, I’d slipped the clip into my palm.

I opened my fist and slid the binder clip to my fingers. I bent the wire, pulling it from the clip’s groove. Discarding the clip, I straightened the wire into a needle-like shape. My hand cramped from the awkward, rushed movements. After straightening the wire, I inserted it into the handcuff’s keyhole. With the right tool, unlocking cuffs was easy. I freed my wrists, rotated them, and held my breath.

No sound came from outside. It was decision time. Stay locked in, pretending to be trapped until I heard something, or get out now? I chose the latter. Staying locked in meant I’d never know what was happening outside. Waiting endlessly might get me dragged out. Whoever was out there, I had to get out first.

I removed the gag and quickly unlocked the shackles on my ankles, just as I had the cuffs. But the closet door was locked. That didn’t mean I couldn’t escape. The closet’s three walls were solid, but the door wasn’t thick, and the hinges were flimsy. A trailer’s built-in closet wouldn’t be that sturdy.

I raised my knees, shifted my hips forward, and pressed my soles against the door. After gauging a few times, I kicked the door with my heels as hard as I could. The hinges rattled. No time to hesitate over the noise. I kicked again, harder. The hinges broke, and the door flew off.

The trailer was empty. I crawled out, grabbed pants and a shirt from the floor, and put them on. I opened the window opposite the door, tossed my shoes outside, and slipped through, legs first.

The surroundings were dead quiet. They must’ve gone to get the . Whatever, it didn’t matter. Now wasn’t the time to speculate about their movements.

I bolted into the woods behind the trailer. Knowing a shortcut no one else did was a godsend. I’d learned it for sneaking to James’s trailer, and it had never been more useful. As soon as I entered the woods, I ran without hesitation. When I reached the path to the campground, I saw a few workers, including Lasso, holding beer bottles and heading to the filming site.

They greeted me warmly, seeing me drenched in sweat. Lasso waved his beer bottle and asked.

<Marine, you grab some pizza? It’s been like two weeks since we had any.>

<Yeah. Ate so much I’m about to burst. Heading back now.>

I replied casually, and Lasso raised his beer.

<Beer?>

I patted Lasso’s shoulder and hurried toward the campground. I felt his puzzled gaze on my back but ignored it. After this moment, I’d never see him again.

Once I was out of their sight, I sprinted. I raced to the campground, jumped into a truck with the keys in the ignition, and didn’t even think about grabbing my bag from the lodge. I had no money anyway. I started the engine and sped out of the campground. In the side mirror, I saw Big Nose running out of the lodge, shouting, <Who’s that? Where the hell are you going in the middle of the night?!> I accelerated. My heart pounded so loudly it seemed to echo in my ears. I pressed the gas without hesitation.

The campground wasn’t far from Laverham village. The winding mountain roads just made it hard to speed. I tried to calm my frantic mind. An accident would only complicate things. I couldn’t let my guard down.

I glanced at the clock—it was 9:30 p.m. Still evening. I rummaged through the drawer and found a few twenty-dollar bills. With low fuel, I’d need to fill up as soon as I reached the village and escape as far as possible before dawn.

My hands trembled on the steering wheel. I swallowed dryly. The encounter with Simon and nearly having my tongue ripped out by that eerie man felt like a dream. But it wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t be. Simon had appeared before me again. If he did it now, he could do it again, countless times. I had to leave Mimes as soon as possible. No, maybe I needed to leave America entirely.

I never imagined Simon would be in America. Come to think of it, James had called him Caster, Caster… That was the name I’d seen when looking for James’s trailer. It was on one of the actor’s trailers!

I was starting to piece together Simon and James’s connection. What an incredible coincidence. In the vast continent of America, in this backwater, tucked away in a corner of a forest, through a job I’d never have taken otherwise, I’d been living right beside Simon for weeks…

So when did Simon realize I was here? Was that trap he set the end of it? No way. There had to be more. There was definitely something else.

Then a came from behind, and the truck shook.

I slammed on the brakes. Startled, a chill ran down my spine. A gunshot? No, it didn’t seem like it… Frozen, I gripped the wheel, opened the window, and looked out. Shining a flashlight, I saw it was just a flat tire.

It was a relief, but damn, my luck was rotten. Instead of getting out to check the tire, I kept driving. Laverham village wasn’t far. I could fix it in a populated area. For now, getting off this deserted mountain road was the priority. I had no choice but to slow down. Fortunately, I reached Laverham village without incident.

What I hadn’t expected was that a rural village’s day ended much earlier than a city’s. The village was nearly empty. The gas station I went to for a tire had a sign. With no other option, I filled up the tank and drove through the small downtown, looking for an open shop. Only a restaurant and a pub were open. I parked the truck in front of the pub.

The spacious Irish-style pub had a decent crowd, which was reassuring. A few tables were occupied, and several people sat at the bar. I walked straight to the owner filling beers behind the bar. He looked like a typical rural man in his early sixties, sleeves rolled up, eyeing me.

<Sorry, but I’m in a hurry to get to the city, and I’ve got a flat tire. Any idea where I can get one?>

The owner glanced at the clock and added belatedly.

<Oh, he’s probably gone home for dinner by now.>

<Yeah… Any idea when he’ll be back?>

The owner answered promptly. It was lucky that rural folks knew each other well. But an hour was too long. I bit my lip, and the owner asked.

I nodded. He said.

<There’s a guy at that table who came from the city a couple days ago. Ask him if he can give you a ride.>

He pointed to a corner table. A man in a short-sleeved shirt sat alone. Something about the back of his head seemed familiar. I squinted, a hunch forming, and strode over. He was alone, but two beer glasses on the table suggested he had company. It didn’t matter.

Without hesitation, I grabbed the man’s neck and yanked him up roughly. I seized his collar and slammed him against the wall. He spat curses until our eyes met, then froze, mouth agape. I smirked at him.

Matt swallowed hard.

<Ray… Raymond… Uh, no… Haha… What are you doing here?>

<Y-yeah, of course I’ve got it…>

Trembling, Matt fumbled in his pocket and handed me the car keys. I snatched them and glanced at the table.

A soft but chilling voice came from behind.

<That’s not all.>

I turned around.

Behind me was someone who shouldn’t be here.

<You… you…>

The boy I’d burned to death stood before me, grown as much as I had.

He took a step closer and plunged a syringe into my frozen neck. I watched helplessly as the plunger pushed in. My vision blurred instantly. The boy… now a grown man, caught my collapsing body and grinned widely. No sound came out. The words that couldn’t form echoed back inside me.

Oh… Jerome.

He shouted.

Author's Thoughts

There are numerous stimulating scenes involving rape, gang rape, violence, abuse, and drugs. Please practice discretion as you proceed.

Join my discord to be updated on advance chapter, free chapter updates!