Page 1 of These Monstrous Deeds

Chapter One

There was a post on Tumblr once.10 Things To Do If You’re Ever Kidnapped.Carter had skimmed it before pressing the heart icon, saving it in his likes to read more thoroughly later. He never got around to it.

He thinks there was something about kicking a headlight, but Carter isn’t in a trunk. He’s in a wooden crate like a package on a cargo ship. There’s no possibility of him kicking his way free in this scenario either, not with the way he’s bound. His body is curled up in a fetal position in order to fit in the crate, his head bent at an awkward angle. He’d never be able to kick a leg out hard enough to break anything.

He thinks maybe there was something about zip-ties, but Carter’s not bound with those. Whoever captured Carter wound thick, scratchy rope around his body as a way to restrain him. His arms are bent and pressed together across the center of his back, his thighs bound without space between them, his calves tied to his thighs.

He thinks he was supposed to memorize something, too. Or multiple things. If that’s the case, Carter is extra screwed. He’s pretty sure his kidnappers drugged him, if the fuzzy memory of something stinging his neck a moment before he lost consciousness is any indication. By the time Carter came to, tongue heavy and head full of cotton, he had already been stripped naked, blindfolded, and bound in the rope currently keeping him in his fetal position. He could have woken up on the same street that he was taken, or half a world away. There was no way to tell. There was no time to ask any questions, either. He had been picked up by his ropes like a package and shoved violently into his new home – the wooden crate.

Carter has been kidnapped.

And he has no fucking idea what to do.

Thanks a lot Tumblr.

The most concerning part of the entire situation is that his captors had known his name. Carter specifically remembers that. One minute, he was walking down the sidewalk, backpack hitched over his shoulder, mind turning as he mentally reviewed what he’d need to know for his upcoming political science exam. The next minute, someone was calling, “Hey, Carter!” and he turned to find two men behind him. That was when the sting happened in his neck.

Considering Carter is an orphan with an older brother who is nothing but a soldier in the Army, this isn’t some sort of hostage situation. No one is going to be collecting a ransom. There’s a good chance that whoever took him is fully aware of his family and financial situation. If that’s the case, they’re planning on getting their money some other way.

Carter isn’t an idiot. He knows how these things work. He’s seen enough made-for-TV movies and docuseries to know how his captors plan on making a profit off of him. Carter is going to be sold, either for physical labor or for sex. Considering his nakedness and the way his captors had enjoyed touching his cock and balls while he was bound and helpless, Carter has a feeling this is headed towards the sex route. Some sick fuck is going to purchase Carter to be their sex slave.

Or worse – to rape him once and then dispose of him.

On second thought, maybe that’d be the better option.

Not that Carter is under the impression that he’ll be given any sort of option moving forward.

The vehicle Carter’s crate is on comes to a sudden halt, his world lurching as the box skids across the inside of the truck. It slams into something that abruptly stops it. Carter’s body doesn’t get the memo, still moving for a second longer before it slams against the inside of the crate.

Everything goes dark.

???

“Miami.”

“A shitty little town in Georgia.”

“Lawrence, Kansas.”

“Ann Arbor, Michigan.”

“Kentucky. Just outside of Louisville.”

Silence.

Eyes, heavy, itchy, demanding, all locked onto Carter.

Carter curls his body tighter, almost missing his crate. He’s not sure how long he spent in the wooden box, but the fetal position has become second nature at this point. Especially when he’s particularly anxious.

“Where you from?” a dark-skinned guy a few years older than Carter asks, as if he thinks Carter might not have been listening to the conversation. As if he thinks Carter doesn’t know it’s his turn. As if Carter hasn’t lost more and more hope with every location mentioned.Are they all idiots? Don’t they understand?They were all plucked from places nowhere near each other, which means only one of them might be near home, and even that chance is low. They’re probably not even in the United States anymore. That’sbad. That means it’s going to be difficult for the authorities to find them. Probably fucking impossible.

When Carter waits too long to answer, they move on without him.

“Denver.”

“NYC. Was there for college.”

“Yeah, me too. College, I mean. I’m actually from Mississippi.”

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