Chapter 3

They lay me down on the floor and the six of them take stations. Two take my feet (one for each) and two take my hands. The other two flank my sides and prepare for further attacks on my stomach. They said they won’t harm me, but stretched out all exposed, weak and defenseless like this, I truly think I might die.

The two by my hands pin me down by the wrists and use their free hands to mercilessly prod, poke and drill into my armpits and my ribs. The two at my feet flip my untied high-tops right off and begin to peel off my white Nike crew socks. They give my naked feet an unnerving visual examination before they dig in with strong athletic hands. They bend my toes back and drag finger nails up and down the soles of my tender bare feet. My whole body bucks and thrashes as I howl in uncontrollable laughter. Then their fingers scratch at the area under my toes and I shriek. Meanwhile the two guys in the middle have decided that one will squeeze the shit out of my sides above the hips while the other swipes and sweeps his fingertips across my lower abdomen causing me to quiver and convulse.

I am full out screaming now. I can’t help it. The combination of the sensations of these six guys is pure torture. There are twelve strong hands gripping, holding, grabbing, squeezing, swiping, poking and prodding most of my body. Then the foot guys start something else. Teeth nibble at my toes, the balls of my feet and my arches. The teeth are followed by tongues that bathe the full length of my feet. My heart is pounding, my body is sweating and my shrieks weaken to breathy gasps. I’m on the brink of passing out.

I feel helpless and violated. My biggest fear is that to these guys, I’m not even a human being anymore. I am nothing more than their toy to use and abuse. I merely exist to be their entertainment. To them, I’m nothing more than the newest gaming counsel and their gonna play the shit out of me. This terrorizing assault has me in genuine fear and tears. Then the guy squeezing my sides decides he wants to squeeze something else. He fumbles under the waistband of my sweatpants and finds the ends of the drawstring. He begins to pull and my voice comes back. I thrash wildly and scream, “NNNOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!”

I was silent on the walk home from the fitness center. The other guys were talking and laughing about any and every thing while I stayed quiet. I was thinking about what Wyatt had said. He called me out and he was right. I’ve known about my feelings for Enzo for a long time now. I’ve tried to tamp them down, but I’ve known. And now I realize that I don’t want them tamped down. There’s no reason to. I would be proud to be Enzo’s… Boyfriend? Wyatt was right about everything. I do need to talk to Enzo. And I will. Tonight. I don’t want to be too late.

I imagine the table set and hot enchiladas ready to be served. My stomach growls again.

We enter the house, kicking off our shoes into a gigantic pile by the door and something immediately feels amiss to me. The other guys don’t notice, but I can tell. The quiet, still air in the house feels empty and wrong. I start to get frantic. I run into the kitchen and Enzo is not there. The oven is not on and the two prepared trays of enchiladas are still in the fridge. I run up the stairs to our bedroom and Enzo’s wallet and keys are on his dresser. I run back downstairs. His phone is on the table by the couch and his headphones are on the floor. My heart pounds hard in my chest.

Something is really wrong. I have to shout to get the attention of the other guys. I tell them that Enzo is missing.

Aiden says, “So? He’s a grown man. Maybe he went out for a walk.”

I shake my head, “He doesn’t go for walks alone at night.”

Cooper says, “Maybe he went home for the weekend. He probably told you and you just forgot.”

The three of them all start chattering and laughing again, but Wyatt’s eyes are on me. When I indicate Enzo’s phone on the table, his expression changes from mildly concerned to moderately alarmed. He yells at the others, “Shut up and listen to Owen. Just shut up! This is important!”

I say, “Our friend is not here, but it was not his choice to leave. He was taken away.”

Ivan frowns, “Like, he was kidnapped?”

I tell them, “Look at the pile of sneakers by the front door, What do you see?”

Aiden says, “Like always, I see six pairs of sneakers. Five pairs are around size thirteen and one pair is about a size eight. What’s the big deal, Owen?”

I say, “Come on guys. Enzo has been living with us for three months now. You know his routine as well as I do. He only has two pairs of shoes and one of them is strictly for in the house. He never wears that pair outside. What shoes are there on the floor?”

Wyatt’s eyes widen, “Those are his outside shoes.”

Wyatt was right before. I do feel like punching him in the face.

I sigh, “Enzo isn’t here. I looked everywhere. But guys… His phone is here. His chemistry book is open on the couch. His wallet and keys are in our room. His car is parked out front. The wrong shoes are by the door. The enchiladas are in the fridge… Guys! Don’t you see?”

They are starting to. They’re beginning to believe me.

Aiden says, “No one goes out anywhere without their phone. Not on purpose.”

Ivan agrees, “He wouldn’t even leave his book out like this. He’s the neat freak.”

Cooper asks dumbly, “So, where is he? Who would take him.”

Wyatt gives him a shove. His brain has caught up to where mine has been for five minutes now. “It was your idea to steal that stupid trophy, you fucking moron. Now those guys stole our friend!”

Ivan cracks his knuckles, “Let’s go get him back!”

We don’t really have a plan, but I guess that makes sense since we don’t know what to expect. Is Enzo on the first floor? Is he locked up in a bedroom? Is he restrained in some way? Is he alone or is he being guarded? If guarded, then by how many? Are all six of those assholes home?

We’ll have to do whatever recon we can upon arrival and take things from there.

We cautiously approach the house and we can hear muffled shouting and screaming as we get closer. We look through the first floor window. All five of us are in shock at the sight before us. Enzo is half naked and being tortured by all six of them. His face is crimson red and he is screaming bloody murder. He is in absolute agony. Tears come to my eyes and my fists clench.

Wyatt’s hand grips my shoulder, “We’re gonna save him.”

Some way, somehow, my brain kicks into action. I tell Ivan, Cooper and Aiden to go around back. This house is the same layout as ours. There is a back door in the kitchen. I tell those three to go bust it down and make as much noise as possible while doing it. Three or four of them will go see what happened and when they do, you beat the shit out of them. Meanwhile, Wyatt and I will bust through the front door and handle the ones who stay behind. We’ll grab Enzo and get the hell out of here.

It’s an admittedly rough plan, but time is of the essence. I send those three on their way just as there is an even more terrifying scream coming from inside the house. It’s Enzo screaming, “NNNOOOOOOOOOOO!” Wyatt and I look through the window again and see that one of those six assholes is tugging on the drawstring of Enzo’s sweatpants.

We rush to the door and hope that our three idiots get in place quickly. We hear the crash we were hoping to hear and we count to three before busting through the front door. Only two baseball assholes stayed here with Enzo, still pinning him down by the wrists and ankles. Fortunately, his pants are still in proper place.

The two guys release Enzo when they see Wyatt and me standing in their living room, looking down at them. They jump up. I am vaguely aware of the sound of a fist fight coming from the kitchen, but I can’t worry too much about that right now as we have guys out here to be concerned with. Wyatt and I dance around these guys a little and start to jab at them like boxers. The one closest to me takes a big swing that I easily duck. On my way back up, I deliver an uppercut blow to his gut. It wasn’t properly centered and he doesn’t crumble to his knees. I have no idea how Wyatt is doing with his guy, but it is at this moment that I realize Enzo is no longer on the floor where we found him. As a matter of fact, I don’t see him anywhere. And then I take a blow to the chin.

As week as I feel from two hours of tickle torture, I know I need to help my friends. With out me, it’s five against six. I know that basketball players are better athletes than baseball players, but this is a baseball house. In addition to having an extra number, two of them went into the kitchen with bats. I saw Owen and Wyatt bust through the front door, so I can only imagine that Aiden, Cooper and Ivan are outnumbered and unarmed in the kitchen. I force myself up off the floor and grab a bat for myself from behind the couch. My friends came to my rescue. The least I can do is lend a hand and even things up.

I run into the kitchen and find that one of their guys is already on the floor, effectively neutralized. Unfortunately, two of the remaining three still have baseball bats in hand and Ivan, Cooper and Aiden look worried. My presence has not yet been noticed by anyone on either side, so I sneak attack one of the batboys with a crushing swing to the right arm. There is a crunch and the dude drops like a sack of potatoes. I am particularly pleased when I realize that he was the one who was pulling at the string of my sweatpants. I was already being violated, but that asshole was willing to go as far as sexual assault.

The remaining five people in the room all become aware of my presence at the same time. The baseball guys are closest to me and they start to descend on me, one with a raised bat in hand. But my guys are on it. Cooper rips the bat out of batboy’s hand, casts it aside and wraps a protective arm around me while Aiden and Ivan each tackle them to the floor. A few openhanded palm strikes and they’re both down for the count with no permanent damage done.

I hear fighting coming from the other room and I run back to see what’s going on.

It was only a glancing blow and it had little effect on me. I pop him gently in the nose and he folds like a lawn chair. I look over in Wyatt’s direction and he’s got his guy on the ropes as well. He delivers a knee to the groin and the guy is done.

I turn to see Enzo, still barefoot and bare chested, walk out of the kitchen holding a baseball bat. He is almost comically small in stature compared to the other eleven men in this house right now, but he looks like a warrior. He looks like a superhero.

I rush to him and he drops the bat. I grab him in the biggest bearhug, lifting his feet off the ground and he squeezes me back. Aiden, Cooper and Ivan all enter the room and none of them appear to be injured in any way. When I set Enzo down, Cooper picks him up again. As he squeezes Enzo, he tells Wyatt and me, “He saved our lives. We took the first guy down easily enough, but two of the three behind him had baseball bats. We had nothing. We didn’t know what to do. Then this guy snuck in and slugged a grand slam. He took down that big fucker.”

Cooper releases Enzo as Aiden hands him his sweatshirt that he found on the floor. Cooper and Ivan go to work on tracking down his shoes and socks. Within a couple minutes, Enzo is fully clothed and we are ready to leave. At the door I stop in front of Enzo and squat down, offering him a piggyback ride. I say, “I know these aren’t your outside shoes. Hop aboard.”

When we get home, we don’t have that talk. I don’t say the things I promised myself I would say. The things that Wyatt and possibly others already see. The other four guys can’t stop hooting and high fiving. Enzo is celebrated as a hero.