Page 44 of Caged In

Things go south, realfast. Before Izz can raise a hand in his defence, he is grabbed and manhandled backwards. His back hitting the pantrydoors as he’s shoved right through them.

Out of sight.

Utterly alone.

Not that anyone in the kitchen has shown any sign they will do anything to help. Even if they were all huddled inside the pantry, they wouldn’t raise a hand to help him.

“Let me go. I’m done with this place,” Izz yells at Levis’s face, thrashing in the tight grip squeezing his upper arms. “I’m leaving this shitty job, and I don’t care if it lands me in The Hole for the rest of my stay.”

Okay, so he’s bluffing. He does not want to be stuck in a room alone for years, but at this particular moment he is too pissed off to care.

“I said. LET. GO.” Izz bellows, throwing all his strength into his attempt to dislodge Levis’s hold.

“Nah, Sugar. I’m not going to do that,” Levis’s calm voice holds no indication he is straining to restrain Izz.

His back hits one of the huge barrels—containing flour or perhaps rice—

He’s aware his mind is trying to distract him, it doesn’t matter what is contained within the barrels, only that his mind can channel that thought to draw him out of the situation he is being forced into.

This freak is touching, touching what he was not given permission to touch and is not backing down.

Fight or flight.

He’s trapped, he can’t run. He’s stuck between a creep and a heavy immovablebarrel.

Defence. Defence it is. But how is he going to defend himself? He’s overpowered, the perv’s packing twice—if not more—muscle mass than Izz could ever dream of possessing.

Hisscrawny assis going to lose this fight. He can’t afford to lose. Not with what the stakes are. This inmate isn’t going to kill him, they’re going to do something far worse—

The world spins. Izz’s vision swirling as he’s repositioned. Shoved bellyfirst over the barrel. A largedisgusting hand pinning the back of his neck. Holding him down with little effort on Levis’s part. The man isn’t even breathing heavily. It makes Izz’s skin crawl—all he wants to do is run to the shower and scrub his skin raw.

Frantically trying to pull away, his breathing increasing to erratic hyperventilating gasps. Levis’s grasp is too powerful, he is terrified and weak, his feeble attempts are getting him nowhere. All he manages to do is scratch his knees on the barrel’s rough exterior.

His legs are shaking, his palms sweating, he cannot believe this thing is happening to him. He’d never in a thousand years thought it would ever happen to him—

This is something that happened to women. To women in horror stories people don’t want to think too closely about, too horrific for anyone to believe it could happen to them.

Izz hisses when Levis’s other hand drops down between him and the barrel, gripping his waistband and tugging down the only form of protective barrier between him and his attacker.

He’s too stunned to cry out. Too shocked to think clearly. His brain screaming full blast at him but he can’t understand what he is supposed to do to save himself. The hand clutching his neck is iron hard, rooted in place. Digging into his flesh.

“Let go,” Izz breathes out, trying to portray strength. To demand he be taken seriously. His voice is barely above a whispered plea, “you don’t have to do this.”

He wants to say‘please’. To beg. A little voice inside tells him it’s a bad idea. If this creep is willing to force someone, him begging them to stop would result in turning them on. Wouldn’t it?

Izz blinks rapidly, he can’t cry. He won’t give this monster the satisfaction. Blinking to clear his vision, clears his sight to the crumbs scattering the lid by his face. Little grains, safe from harm. He’d give anything to be a crumb. To disappear into the barrel and never return.

“I don’t, but I want to,” Levis mocks.

The dank stench wafting off Levis is making Izz nauseous. He wants to vomit. But he’s terrified at the anger it will provoke. Will he die? If he pukes, will Levis beat him to death?

“If you’d taken my offer this could have gone a less painful route.”

The sneered remark sends shivers down Izz’s spine, tears pricking his eyes, threatening to break free. He’s going to be one of those horror stories. One no-one completely takes in, too afraid of the pain it would cause—

A clattered noise from beyond the pantry doors draws his attacker’s attention. A jingling noise following soon after. He can’t concentrate on the sound long enough to figure out what it is. He’s heard it before, he knows it’s familiar—

Izz’s pants are yanked backup. And he’s released from the crushing hold—

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