It was just Colin’s way to endear himself further after the stabbing fiasco, but Taron appreciated the acknowledgement nevertheless, because Peter McGraw had done something inexcusable and deserved what he’d got. Taron took another gulp from the bottle.
He nodded at Colin, wondering just how much the boy would try to endear himself. He’d mentioned a girlfriend, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Taron wouldn't force himself on Colin, but if, and only if, Colin attempted to seduce him, Taron wouldn’t be opposed to fucking his brains out, regardless whether the advances were sincere or not. Would Colin do it, though?
Taron hoped he would. Life got lonely in the woods from time to time, and there was only so much sexual satisfaction to be had with guys selling their favors in the area. It wasn’t his style to make things overly complicated or form attachments with people, but if Colin was to stay, the two of them would feel the need to scratch an itch at some point.
So far though, all Colin had to offer were words, so many of them in fact that Taron’s head was starting to hurt. How would he even go about fucking Colin? Would he keep the boy tied for safety?
“Look, how about we start with a clean slate, huh? Tell me about yourself. Do you live here, or is this like a holiday home?”
Taron rolled his eyes and had more of the delicious, pain-numbing whiskey. He gestured with his fingers, inviting Colin closer, and slid his hand over his crotch. It wasn’t subtle, but would get the point across. He could imagine himself sliding his fingers into the blond hair and keeping Colin still as he came in the guy’s ass.
The earlier smile froze on Colin’s mouth, and he leaned back, hunching over in the face of the proposal. “It’s uh… a compliment, but no. M-my girlfriend? Remember?’
Taron groaned. As if this night hadn’t been bad enough. What a fucking mess. He had no idea what to do with Colin. No use for him, couldn’t let him go, didn’t want to kill him.
He got up and left without sparing Colin another glance.
Chapter Four
On the first day, Taron came to the cellar only once. Without even sparing Colin a glance, he cut him free of the rope and left him with a bucket to use as toilet, a large chunk of beef, a can of tuna, along with soup and a whole plateful of dry crackers. They were the type that could chip one’s teeth, so Colin ended up soaking them in the hot, creamy vegetable soup until they were edible. The flavor of the crackers was unexpectedly familiar, evoking vivid memories of the ache in his gums that accompanied chewing. It brought back the scent of burning wood, leaves, and roasted marshmallows.
The happiest summer of Colin’s life had been spent building camp furniture, learning the basics of survival, first aid, the names of trees and birds. He’d been a scout for less than a year before his parents decided he shouldn’t waste his time on lessons he would likely never use in his adult life. His real life, as they called it.
Well, his real life right now was limited to a cage that didn’t even accommodate the length of his body, so he sure could use some survival tricks.
Despite fear and resentment, Colin never rejected food, because he needed the strength if he wanted to get out of there. Boredom made his mind spin through hundreds of options for escape, imagining specifics, like the best angle to stab Taron again, if only Colin got his hands on the bloodstained knife that had been left across the room.
But as hours passed in silence, with no sign of life in the cabin above, Colin no longer felt homicidal. If Taron bled out, he’d be stuck here. Underground. With no way out.
Worry was replaced by a simmering anger. What good would it do him now that he followed the rules, went to med school, or didn’t party? If he had stayed, went out with his classmates, messed around with Mikey, he wouldn’t be in a dungeon in the middle of the woods, wishing a murderer wasn’t actually dead.
In the dark, with just a tiny flashlight provided by his captor, Colin lost track of time. It could have been an hour, four or an entire day, but by the time he heard footsteps on the stairs again, his mouth was so dry his tongue had stuck to his palate. This time, the meal provided was heartier and tastier, but Colin could have lived without food as long as he knew Taron wasn’t dead yet. That there was still chance for him to escape.
Taron refused to answer any of Colin’s questions, and his silence once more left Colin terrified for his future. Something broke in Colin when Taron left again, and he cried for so long that in the end, he fell asleep from exhaustion. His father had taught him not to cry, but he wasn’t here to see. Nor was he here to save him. No one would come, because he’d foolishly decided to ‘shake things up a bit’ and take a wrong turn home.