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Over the Hills and Far Away	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 2103 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own 21JS or the characters. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. All characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is coincidental.

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Dragging his damaged body across the worn carpet of the hotel room, Tom left a bloody trail in his wake. He groaned in pain as he crawled over the chipped tiled floor of the bathroom and into the small shower cubicle. Reaching above his head, he cried out as he turned on the faucets, gasping loudly when the warm spray of water hit his aching, bloodied body. Sitting slumped against the wall, his head lolled forward and his breath hitched in his throat. Never in his life had he experienced so much pain. The man had kept him bound and gagged for eight hours, choking him to the point of passing out and then bringing him back so he could inflict more injuries to his already damaged body. The man had not used a condom or lubrication and Tom’s anus bled heavily from the man penetrating him with both his cock and his fist. Deep gashes crisscrossed his stomach and chest and the man had sliced open the tender flesh of his inner thighs. But the most painful were the small shallow cuts that surrounded his perineum, the tiny wounds adding to the blood that flowed from the internal tearing he had sustained from the brutality of the sexual acts.

Wrapping his arms around his torso, Tom drew up his legs as his body shivered under the stream of warm water. He knew he needed medical attention but he was in too much agony to move. Closing his eyes, he willed his body to shut down, to take him into the tranquil blackness where he would no longer feel any pain and he could quietly slip away into oblivion.

**

Sunlight filtered through the hotel room window and Tom’s eyes slowly fluttered open. He had no memory of crawling out of the shower and into the main room before collapsing onto the floor next to the bed. Struggling to a sitting position, he pulled a bloodied sheet off the bed and wrapped it around his trembling body. His skin felt ice cold and he wondered how much blood he had lost. Looking around the room, he saw that his blood had stained the carpet and the tiled floor of the bathroom. Closing his eyes, he tried to calculate how long he had been in the room. Figuring that it had been at least fourteen hours, he was surprised that no one had found him. Then a frightening thought popped into his mind. He had no idea how many nights the man had paid for, which meant he could return at any moment.

Knowing that he needed to help himself or risk dying if the man returned, Tom wrapped his hands around the bedpost and hauled himself to a standing position. He stood for a moment, swaying unsteadily on his feet as the room spun in front of him. Falling sideways, he collapsed onto the bed, sobbing in frustration. He lay motionless for several minutes until his vision cleared and then he carefully slipped from the bed and onto the floor. Moving slowly, he crawled across the stained carpet. It seemed to take an eternity but he finally reached the door. Using the doorknob for support, he hauled his body to a kneeling position and turning the handle, he pulled at the door. A sob caught in his throat when he realized that it was locked. Crumpling back onto the floor, he slumped against the door and banged his fist weakly against the wooden paneling. “HELP ME!” he yelled, his voice rising hysterically. “PLEASE HELP ME!”

Fatigue quickly overwhelmed him and his arm fell to his side. “Help me,” he whispered as tears streamed down his face. “I don’t want to die… please… I don’t want to die!”

Hours passed and Tom drifted in and out of an exhausted sleep. Opening his eyes, he saw that the room was now dark. He desperately needed to go to the toilet and getting to his hands and knees he crawled across the floor. Using the door frame as support, he hauled himself to his feet. When the room stopped spinning, he held onto the wall and made his way to the toilet. After relieving his bladder, he found the light switch and flicked it on.

The florescent light hummed above his head before illuminating the room in bright light. Hanging onto the hand basin, Tom stared at his reflection in the mirror. His face was deathly pale and bloody wounds covered his chest. Turning on the faucet, he cupped his trembling hand under the cool water and gulped down the refreshing liquid. Feeling a little steadier on his feet, he carefully made his way back into the bedroom. Sitting down on the bed, he winced in pain from the damage to his backside. After catching his breath, he stood up and walked over to the chair where he had left his clothes. He found his boxers and pulled them up over his bloodied legs before staggering slowly over to the window. Leaning against the glass, he stared out at the street below. He banged his palm against the glass but he immediately froze when he heard the sound of a key unlocking the door behind him.

Spinning around, Tom sobbed when he saw the man walk in and quietly close the door behind him. Sinking to the floor, he started to cry. “No,” he pleaded, lowering his head and shaking it from side to side. “Please, I can’t take anymore.”

Striding across the room, the man squatted down and grasped a handful of Tom’s hair. He viciously twisted Tom’s head around so he could stare into his victim’s terrified eyes. “Oh you’ll take it you little whore,” he muttered as he pulled the ball gag out of his pocket.

Tom yelled and tried to scramble away but he was too slow and weak and the man easily overpowered him. After strapping on the gag, the man stood up and grabbing Tom by the arm, he dragged him kicking and screaming across the floor. Pulling Tom to his feet, he shoved him onto the bed and after removing his boxers, he easily bound his wrists and ankles to the bedpost. Stripping naked, the man reached into his pocket and pulled out his knife. “Ready?” he laughed, flashing the blade in front of Tom’s face.

As the knife sliced through the flesh of his stomach, Tom’s eyes bulged in terror and he began to scream.

**

Struggling to lift his head off the bed, Tom attempted to focus on the man standing in front of him. “Why?” he mumbled through dry, cracked lips.

The man squatted down so he could meet Tom’s disorientated gaze. Tilting his head on one side, he smiled cruelly. “Why not?” he replied softly, patting the palm of his hand against Tom’s bloodied cheek. “Now stay here like a good boy and it will all be over soon and you’ll be in a better place.”

Standing up, the man cast one last look at Tom’s broken and battered body before turning away and exiting the room.

**

Tom once again regained consciousness and he groaned softly as he became aware of the excruciating pain in his body. Lifting his head off the bloodstained mattress, he gazed around the room and sighed with relief when he saw it was empty. Slowly shuffling his body to the edge of the bed, he fell to the floor, crying out when he hit the hard surface. He lay for several minutes with his eyes closed, moaning softly as he waited for the pain in his body to subside.

When he felt ready, he opened his eyes and slowly dragged himself across the floor. Tears poured down his face as the coarse piled carpet ripped open the wounds covering his stomach but he kept going, inch by inch until he finally reached the door. Taking a deep breath, he hauled his body to a sitting position and reaching up, he grasped the door handle. Turning the knob, he began to sob when the door opened a crack. Collapsing back onto the floor, he pulled back the door and crawled out into the hallway. “Help me,” he whispered. “Oh God, somebody help me.”

Tom had no idea how long he lay in the corridor. His last memory was a woman screaming and then he once again slipped into unconsciousness.

**

Monday morning

Leaning over, Dennis kissed George goodbye and exited the Mercedes. He waited until his lover had driven away before unlocking the door of his car and climbing in. His two nights spent on surveillance had proved futile, Tom had not left the boarding house, at least not whilst he had been parked across the road. Even though he had no hard evidence that Tom was in trouble, Dennis could not ignore the nagging feeling he had that something was just not right. Over the weekend, he had made up his mind to place a call to the boarding house. He was not sure that Tom would agree to speak to him but he had to try, if only to put his own mind at rest. He would then confess everything to George and beg his forgiveness. The lying and deceit had made him edgy and he wanted to start again with a clean slate. He just hoped that George would understand his motives and not hold it against him.

Driving the short distance to his office, he got out of the car and entered the building. He decided to take the stairs, having spent two nights sitting in his car he figured he could use the exercise. Arriving at his floor, he walked down the corridor and unlocked his office door. Opening the blinds, he stared down at the traffic below for several minutes before making himself a cup of coffee and sitting down at his desk. Flipping open his diary, he found the boarding house number and picking up the receiver, he dialed the phone. It rang for nearly a minute before a quiet female voice answered. “Hello, this is Turners’ Boarding House, Mary Turner speaking.”

“Hi,” Dennis replied pleasantly. “My name is Dennis Booker and I’m a friend of Tom Hanson’s. I was wondering if I could speak to him.”

There was silence at the other end of the phone and Dennis wondered if he had lost the connection. “Hello?” he said again. “Mrs. Turner?”

When Mary Turner spoke, her voice was barely audible. “Oh thank the Lord,” she whispered. “Thank you Jesus, thank you.”

A cold shiver of fear ran down Dennis’ spine. “Mrs. Turner,” he responded hesitantly. “Is everything okay?”

Dennis could hear the woman crying softly. “We didn’t know how to get in touch with you,” she sobbed. “He kept asking for Dennis but we didn’t know who you were.”

Dennis’ hand gripped the phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Is Tom okay?” he whispered.

Mary started crying uncontrollably. “H-He’s in Eastside h-hospital,” she wept. “H-He’s been h-hurt, oh sweet Jesus, s-somebody hurt that poor p-precious boy!”

Slamming down the phone, Dennis grabbed up his car keys and sprinted from his office, not even bothering to lock the door. Jumping into his car, he stomped his foot onto the accelerator and sped out of the car park and onto the street. Weaving in and out of the traffic, he thumped the palm of his hand on the car horn, urging the cars in front to move out of the way. Fifteen minutes later, he arrived at the hospital and double-parked outside the entrance. Running from the car, he skidded into the lobby and his eyes quickly scanned the area, searching for the reception desk. Rushing over, he slammed his palms down on top of the counter and gave the startled girl behind the desk a frantic look. “My friend was brought in here,” he gasped, trying desperately to catch his breath.

“Name?” the young girl asked.

“Hanson, Thomas Hanson,” Booker replied hurriedly, raking his fingers through his hair. “Please, I need to see him. I need to see if he’s okay!”

The girl typed in Tom’s name and stared at the computer screen. “He’s in intensive care,” she replied. “I’m sorry but you’ll have to speak—“

Dennis did not wait to hear anymore. He ran over to the elevator and quickly scanned the information board. When the lift arrived, he stepped inside and pushed the button for the sixth floor. His body trembled as he slowly traveled up to intensive care. When the doors dinged open, he alighted into a wide, airy corridor. Looking around him, he quickly strode over to the nurses’ station. “I’m here to see Tom Hanson,” he announced loudly.

The blonde nurse behind the counter looked up from her paperwork. “I’m sorry sir, but Tom is not well enough to receive visitors. They should have told you that downstairs.”

“You don’t understand,” Dennis replied through clenched teeth, his hands balling into fists. “I need to see him.”

“Are you family?” the nurse asked, her expression softening slightly.

Tears filled Dennis’ eyes. “I’m his everything,” he whispered.

Walking out from behind the station, the nurse placed a hand on Dennis’ arm and gently steered him over to the plastic chairs that lined the corridor wall. Motioning for Dennis to sit down, she took a seat next to him and smiled warmly. “My name’s Janice,” she introduced herself. “I’m one of the nurses that has been taking care of Tom.”

Rubbing a trembling hand over his lips, Dennis managed a small smile. “Dennis, Dennis Booker.”

Janice’s expression turned serious. “Dennis, you need to be aware that Tom has sustained some terrible injuries. The police have been called and it is being treated as an attempted murder.”

Dennis’ eyes widened in shock. “Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed. “What the hell happened?”

“How much do you know about Tom’s life?” Janice asked softly, her eyes searching Dennis’ face.

Dennis cleared his throat. “Everything,” he replied. “I mean, everything up until about five months ago when we lost contact. He’s been through some traumatic experiences over the last three and a half years. He was kidnapped in El Salvador and held captive for two years and when he came back to the States he spent time in a psychiatric facility. When they released him, he came and lived with me but eventually he turned to drugs and prostitution and he lived on the streets for a while. But he beat all that, he was getting his life back together, he was getting help.”

Janice sighed and placed a gentle hand on Dennis’ shoulder. “The police think he was prostituting. The owner of the hotel where they found Tom said that he was a regular, always coming in with a different man. I’m sorry Dennis, but I don’t think Tom was as well adjusted as you thought.”

“Oh my God,” Dennis cried. “I never should have left him on his own, this is all my fault!”

Burying his face in his hands, Dennis wept uncontrollably. Placing an arm around his shoulders, Janice attempted to comfort him. “It’s no one’s fault Dennis, you mustn’t blame yourself. You need to be strong for Tom, he’s going to need a lot of support and he’s really going to need his friends by his side.”

Lifting his head, Dennis stared at Janice with tear-filled eyes. “I’m all he’s got,” he choked.

Cupping Dennis’ face in her hands, Janice gazed at him kindly. “Then you’re all he needs,” she replied softly.
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Over the Hills and Far Away