Chapter 88 KIDNAPPED II
"Why isn’t he waking up yet? Is the drug not working on him or is it too small of a dose?”
Henry’s voice cut through the room, sharp and impatient, bouncing off the bare walls.
The man standing a few steps away kept his head slightly lowered. “Calm down, sir. He’ll be awake in no time.”
“Give him more.”
“Sir, it’s not advisable to—”
“Do as I fucking said!!”
The man flinched at the sudden shout but didn’t argue again. He stepped forward, pulling out a syringe with steady hands, even though the tension in the room made the air feel thick.
Eli sat tied to a chair, his head hanging forward, his body completely limp. There was no reaction when the needle pierced his arm. No movement nor sound.
The man pressed the plunger down.
Henry watched closely, jaw tight, eyes cold.
Minutes passed…
Nothing.
Henry let out a frustrated breath and pushed himself off the chair he had been leaning on. He walked closer, slow and deliberate, stopping right in front of Eli.
“Still nothing,” he muttered.
He lifted the cigarette to his lips, took a drag, then without hesitation, pressed the burning tip against Eli’s neck.
There was a faint twitch; a small, delayed, barely there reaction.
Henry’s lips curled, not satisfied.
He pulled the cigarette away and slapped Eli hard across the face.
The sound echoed.
Eli’s head snapped to the side, and his body jerked as if something finally broke through the heavy fog in his mind.
A sharp inhale.
His brows twitched.
His eyes slowly fluttered open, unfocused, glassy, struggling to see.
Everything felt heavy. His head, his body, even his thoughts.
He blinked.
Shapes moved in front of him, blurry at first, then slowly coming together.
A figure.
Familiar.
His lips parted, voice dry and weak, barely a whisper. “...dad?”
The response came instantly, in the form of another slap. Harder this time.
“You useless piece of shit.”
Eli’s head fell to the side again, a soft groan slipping out of him.
His vision steadied just enough to recognize the face in front of him.
“Dad…” he said again, louder this time, confusion and something fragile sitting in his voice.
“Shut your filthy mouth,” Henry snapped, his face twisting in disgust. “Don’t call me your father.”
Eli flinched.
“You do not have my blood in you,” Henry continued, his tone dropping into something colder, more dangerous. “You’re nothing but a fucking stupid weakling who wouldn’t stop bringing me shame.”
Eli’s fingers twitched weakly against the restraints, his breathing uneven as the words hit him, familiar in the worst way.
Henry leaned closer, his presence suffocating.
“How do you like being tied up and beaten with a stick like the little animal you’ve always been?”
The words hit harder than the slap.
Eli’s head lolled to the side, breath coming out uneven, chest rising and falling like his body didn’t fully remember how to function yet. The room felt creepily scary. Too cold, too dark, and too heavy.
His wrists burned.
He tried to move but the ropes held him tighter.
His arms were pulled back, tied to the chair. His ankles too. He shifted slightly and pain shot up his sides.
“…dad,” he whispered again, slower this time, like he didn’t trust the word anymore.
Henry laughed, his annoyance very evident.
“I said don’t call me that.” Henry leaned forward and grabbed Eli’s jaw, squeezing hard enough to hurt. “You don’t get to call me that after everything you’ve done. For fuck sake, why are you so fucking stupid?”
Eli blinked, vision still blurry. His head throbbed.
“What… did I do…?” his voice came out small.
Henry’s grip tightened.
“You exist.”
Another slap.
Eli’s head snapped to the side.
“You breathe.”
A second slap.
“You embarrass me.”
A third— harder.
Eli gasped this time, a broken sound escaping his throat as his body jerked against the restraints.
“I didn’t—” he tried, voice shaking.
“Shut up!” Henry barked.
Silence fell heavy again.
Eli swallowed.
His mouth tasted metallic. Blood.
“…why am I here…?” he asked quietly.
Henry straightened, exhaling smoke from his cigarette like he had all the time in the world.
“Look at you,” he said, circling slowly. “All dressed up in expensive sh!t. Living in luxury. Acting like you belong in that world.”
Eli’s fingers twitched behind him.
“I didn’t ask for—”
Henry kicked the chair.
Hard.
The impact rattled through Eli’s body and a sharp cry slipped out before he could stop it.
“You never ask!” Henry snapped. “That’s your problem. You just take. Take and take and take, because you're so fucking stupid. You do not ask questions. Idiot!”
“I didn’t take anything,” Eli said, louder now, desperation slipping in. “I didn’t ask him to marry me—”
“And yet you stayed because you love being married to a man. You enjoy being Fucked by a man. Eli, you enjoy disgracing me.”
That shut him up.
Henry crouched in front of him, eyes cold.
“You stayed,” he repeated, quieter. “You let him put a ring on your finger. You let him parade you around like some… thing.”
Eli’s breathing grew uneven.
“I didn’t have a choice.”
Henry smiled.
“You always have a choice. You just choose to be weak.”
Eli shook his head, eyes stinging.
“That’s not true…”
Henry tilted his head. “No?”
He reached forward and grabbed Eli’s shirt, yanking him closer.
“Then tell me,” he said, voice dropping, dangerous. “Did you choose to spread your legs for them too?”
Eli froze.
Completely.
His stomach dropped so fast it made him dizzy.
Henry’s smile widened.
“Oh, don’t look so shocked. You think I don’t know? I have eyes everywhere you fucking piece of shit.” He leaned in closer. “Two men, Eli. Not one. Two. Men!! What is wrong with you? Where did I go wrong in raising you? Did I not whip you hard enough? Answer me!!”
Eli’s lips parted but no words came out.
Shame flooded him. Thick and suffocating.
“I—”
“Disgusting,” Henry cut in, letting go of him with a shove.
Eli slumped back against the chair.
“I didn’t—” his voice cracked. “It’s not like that…”
“Not like what?” Henry mocked. “You didn’t enjoy it?”
Eli shut his eyes.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Ah.” Henry clapped slowly. “So you did enjoy it.”
Silence.
Eli’s fingers curled into fists behind his back.
“I hate you,” he whispered.
Henry laughed again. “No, you don’t.”
Eli opened his eyes, glaring weakly.
“I do.”
Henry stepped forward and hit him again. This time slower and controlled.
“You don’t hate me,” Henry said calmly. “You wish you did. But you don’t. You’re too soft for that.”
Eli’s vision blurred again.
“I tried,” he whispered. “I tried to hate you…”
Henry’s expression didn’t change.
“And failed. Like you do in everything else.”
Eli’s chest tightened.
Tears slipped down the sides of his face.
“I'm not a failure, I just did things I didn't want to because I… I—”
“Say it! You wanted what? To live with your grandfather because you thought I killed your mother? Because you thought I might kill you too?”
Eli hiccupped, shutting his eyes tight. “I just wanted you to love me.”
The room went quiet.
For a second… just a second… something flickered in Henry’s eyes.
Then it was gone.
“Pathetic. You're such a fucking loser.”
Eli let out a shaky breath. “I know…”
Henry turned away, annoyed now, like Eli had bored him.
“Give him another dose,” he said to the man standing nearby.
The man hesitated.
“Sir, his body—”
“I said do it.”
Eli’s head snapped up slightly.
“No—wait— what's that? Please wait.”
The man stepped forward anyway.
Eli struggled weakly against the ropes.
“Don’t—please—my head already hurts—”
The needle slid into his arm.
He gasped.
“Stop—”
Too late.
The liquid pushed in.
Cold and burning in a wrong way.
Eli’s body jerked slightly as the man stepped back.
Henry watched closely.
“Let’s see how long this one takes,” he muttered.
Eli’s breathing started to change almost immediately.
Too fast, then too shallow.
“What… did you give me…” he whispered.
No answer.
His head dropped forward, then snapped back slightly.
The room tilted.
Spun.
His chest tightened like something was squeezing his lungs.
“I… can’t…” he gasped.
Henry crouched in front of him again.
“Good,” he said softly. “Feel it.”
Eli shook his head weakly.
“I don’t like this…”
His fingers twitched.
His body felt hot.
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
“Make it stop…” he whispered.
Henry just watched, cold and unmoved by his son's distress.
Eli’s breathing turned into shaky gasps.
His vision blurred again, worse this time.
“I want… Julian…”
The name slipped out before he could stop it.
Henry’s expression darkened instantly.
“What did you say?”
Eli didn’t answer.
His head lolled again.
“I want… Julian…” he repeated weakly. “Please…”
Henry stood abruptly.
“Enough.”
He grabbed Eli’s hair and forced his head up.
“You don’t get to call for him,” he snapped. “He’s not coming for you.” Henry leaned closer, “you wanna hear a fun story? Your mother once opened her legs for Julian's father like you stupidly did for Julian. Julian's father didn't come to save your mother and Julian isn't coming to save you. You're useless to him, he already used you for what he wanted. He used you to steal from me! And now that he's done, you've become useless just like your mother became, to his father. He's not coming for you.”
Eli’s lips trembled.
“He will…”
Henry smiled.
“No. He won’t.”
Eli shook his head, slow, stubborn.
“He’s always… there for me. He's not like you, he doesn't enjoy hurting me.”
Henry stared at him for a long second.
Then he let go.
“Then let’s see,” he said coldly.
Eli’s body sagged against the chair, breathing uneven, eyes barely open now.
“…he’ll come…” he whispered again, softer this time, like he was trying to convince himself.
Darkness crept in at the edges of his vision.
His last thought before everything went black again—
He has to.