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Beneath a Heart of Darkness	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 4657 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- 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.

Chapter List
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Trapped in a stupefied fog, Tom struggled to focus his eyes. When a smooth object pressed against his lips, he jerked his head away, a soft moan rumbling in the back of his throat. Water dribbled down his chin, soaking his tee shirt, but a persistent hand continued to tip the fluid down his throat. “Drink, my beautiful boy,” a distant male voice coaxed. “Then you can sleep.”
Too disoriented to fight, Tom swallowed the cool liquid like an obedient child. But the drink had a strange alkaline flavor and choking on the taste, he spat out the final mouthful. “Pig!” the man cried, his powerful hand slamming the glass against Tom’s teeth, the impact sending painful vibrations through the young officer’s facial nerves. “Why must you fight me?”
Tom tried to speak, but as the drug took control, his muscles relaxed, and he was unable to form any words. Panic constricted his chest, but the sensation was momentary. He was powerless against the GHB working its way through his system, leaving him a prisoner within his own body. And as his senses waned, he once again slipped toward oblivion, but this time, he welcomed the impending darkness.
**
The haunting melody of U2’s ‘With or Without You’ belted out from the jukebox, the deafening volume drowning out the excited voices of the dozens of twenty-somethings standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the small, trendy bar. Downing a mouthful of scotch, Booker leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, his body swaying in rhythm to the hypnotic beat. He had come to the bar looking to get drunk so he could forget all about Tom and the agony of their doomed relationship. But rather than shrugging off his worries and having a good time, the alcohol had heightened his melancholy mood, the self-flagellating thoughts the song invoked adding to his depression. He was a fool, a Grade A, invidious fool who didn’t deserve the love of a man like Tom. Jealousy had always been his curse, although it presented more as arrogance because God forbid he should ever reveal his insecurities. He was far too proud to admit he succumbed to such a petty emotion. After all, it didn’t fit with his devil may care persona. He was Dennis Booker, the badass cop who loved ‘em and left ‘em, not a pathetic romantic who had fallen hard for a pretty young officer who had suffered unspeakable torment.
“Penny for ‘em.”
Booker’s eyes flew open. “Huh?”
The good-looking man standing before him smiled, revealing a perfect set of teeth. “Is that, huh, I don’t know what you mean?” he asked, flicking a stray strand of hair from his eyes. “Or huh, I didn’t hear what you said?”
Pulling himself together, Booker returned a stiff smile. “Neither. I don’t give a fuck either way.”
Amused by the comment, the man’s grin broadened. Lifting a hand, he trailed a lazy finger down Booker’s muscular torso. “Mmm, you’re a feisty one. Look at you, all puffed up with a James Dean attitude, and yet here you are, standing in a corner all alone. Maybe I can change that. How ‘bout I buy you a drink?”
“How ‘bout you don’t,” Booker growled, his hand grasping the man’s wrist in a vicious hold.
Fear flashed in the young man’s eyes, and pulling away, he rubbed at his arm. “Hey, man, what’s your problem? I just thought—”
“You thought wrong,” Booker muttered, and shoving past the man, he pushed through the crowd and exited the bar.
**
The uneven surface of the stone slabs dug into Tom’s hip, the sharpness of the cold, jagged edges sending a ripple of pain through his body. As his mind awakened, his discomfort intensified, and he shifted positions. His exposed skin scraped on the rough floor, eliciting a distressed moan. But with his pain came a slow awareness, and his senses began to tune into his environment. A damp, musty aroma assaulted his nostrils, and wrinkling his nose, he forced open his eyes. His vision blurred, further disorienting him, the nauseous sensation rolling through his naked body in bilious waves of confusion. He had no idea where he was, but his instincts told him he was in serious trouble, and blinking his eyes several times, he didn’t bother to wait until his sight cleared before pushing himself up into a sitting position.
Without warning, the room started to spin, and clutching his head, he inhaled a deep breath, the cold, dank air burning his lungs. A hollow drip, drip, drip, echoed somewhere in the shadows, the incessant rhythm hammering in his aching head, adding to his agitation. It was the resonance of gloom, an intrinsic part of the horror movie genre, and a shiver of fear chilled his bones. Once again, he found himself trapped within the realms of a living nightmare, but this time, he wasn’t sure he would get out alive.
“Are you okay?”
The petulant voice, although vague, sounded familiar, and opening his eyes, Tom peered around the dark room. “Who’s there?” he demanded, the unmistakable quiver in his voice communicating the level of fear coursing through his veins.
When a shadowy figure appeared from a darkened corner, the hairs on Tom’s body rose to attention. “It’s me,” the male voice informed. “Jorge.”
A barrage of memories flooded Tom’s mind; inviting Jorge into his apartment… the young Latino asking for a drink… a suffocating hand over his face… the cloying scent of chloroform… a stranger’s voice… foul-tasting water… welcoming darkness…
“You drugged me,” he accused, his words sounding thick and clumsy as they passed through his chapped lips. “Why would you—”
“You stole him from me,” Jorge interjected by way of explanation. “He said he’d help me by punishing you.”
“He?” Tom queried, confusion creasing his brow. “Who are you talking about?”
Jorge shifted on his feet, his shoulders hunching forward in an evasive shrug. “I chloroformed you, but it was Mister Holland who gave you the drugs. I just want to be with Dennis, and this was the only—”
“Holland?” Tom exclaimed, the blood pounding in his ears making it difficult for him to think.
Moving closer, Jorge squatted down and looked Tom in the eye. “I didn’t want it to turn out this way,” he confided in a quiet voice. “But you left me no choice. Why didn’t you just walk away?”
Unable to comprehend the Latino’s meaning, Tom shook his head in an attempt to shake off the side effects of the GHB clouding his mind. He knew he needed to keep his wits about him, but the drug had impeded his ability to concentrate, leaving him vulnerable. But his inner determination pushed through the confusion and although a struggle, he managed to articulate his thoughts. “Where am I?”
A frightened expression darkened Jorge’s countenance. “La mazmorra secreta,” he whispered, his gaze darting around the small cell. “Mister Holland uses it as a punishment when you misbehave.”
It was the perfect opportunity to plead his case, and seizing the chance, Tom grasped hold of the younger man’s hand, his dark eyes filling with panicked tears. “Why are you helping him? He’s going to rape me!”
Uncertainty flitted over Jorge’s face. “Y-You don’t know that,” he sputtered. “Mister Holland said he’d keep you and Dennis apart until I could—”
“He’s lying!” Tom cried out, the adrenaline pumping through his veins giving him the clarity of mind he needed to save himself from the horror of yet another sexual assault. “Look at me, Jorge, I’m naked! Why would he take my clothes if he only wanted to keep me away from Booker?”
When Jorge’s muscles stiffened, Tom could almost see the waves of tension rolling off his rigid body. It was a promising sign. By casting the seed of doubt, he had a chance of making it out of the dungeon unscathed, all he needed to do was to nurture the younger man’s growing dubiety.
Releasing Jorge’s hand, he placed his cold, stiff fingers on his nemesis’ knee and gave a gentle squeeze. “Holland hurt you, he hurt Dennis, and now he’s gonna hurt me. But we can stop him, Jorge. If you help me escape, we can stop him from hurting anyone else ever again.”
Jorge remained motionless for several moments before his shoulders slumped. “Dennis doesn’t love me, does he?”
It was not the response Tom had expected, and he knew he needed to proceed in a careful manner. But time was running out. With every passing minute, he feared Ingram Holland would appear and through unspeakable violence, snuff out the remaining light within his soul, leaving him to suffer in darkness.
“Jorge, listen to me,” he appealed, the tips of his fingers digging into the flesh of the younger man’s thigh. “This isn’t about you, or me, or Dennis, it’s about Ingram Holland. He holds people captive, and he abuses them, he rapes them, and we can’t let him get away with it. You can’t let him get away with it. Don’t you understand? He’s a psychopath, and he’ll keep doing this unless we stop him.”
A reflective shine glistened in Jorge’s dark eyes. “He took everything from me,” he whispered, his lower lip quivering with emotion. “Everything.”
In most instances, the awareness of hope did little more than vibrate inside Tom’s soul like soft butterfly wings. But this time it reached into his chest and grabbed him by the heart. “Then let’s make him pay,” he reinforced in an encouraging voice. “Let’s take the sonofabitch down.”
With a nod of his head, Jorge stood up and held out his hand. But just as Tom took hold of the slender fingers, he snatched them away, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Why didn’t you report the Pi Taus who assaulted you?”
The question took Tom by surprise and lowering his arm, he fought to get his muddled thoughts in order. It was a pinnacle moment, a make or break situation and one carelessly spoken word could see him spiraling back toward a whole lot of trouble.
Using the craggy, stone wall for support, he rose to his feet, his body swaying for several seconds until he gained his balance. Aware of his nakedness, he proceeded to cover his genitals with one hand, but at the last moment, he decided to use his nudity to his advantage. Nothing screamed weakness more than the naked form voyeuristically on display in front of prying eyes. It was a gamble, but one he was prepared to take and swallowing down his embarrassment, he expressed his reasons in a soft, vulnerable voice. “Because they took everything away from me too, and like you, I didn’t have the courage to fight back. But I’m done with this shit. The Pi Tau brotherhood encourages their members to rape innocent men, and I’m gonna make sure every one of those sick bastards ends up in prison. So, are you with me, or are you still too afraid to stand up for what’s right?”
Silence followed Tom’s speech, the only sound the faint drip, drip of the broken pipe concealed somewhere within the stone walls. Each rhythmic drop brought him a step closer to his fate, and unable to contain his agitation, he cried out in frustration. “Jorge, please!”
Without speaking, Jorge kicked off his shoes and unzipped his khaki chinos. Shock caused Tom’s eyes to bulge, fear forcing a lump into his throat, and staggering backward, he fell against the wall and covered his crotch with his hands. “N-No!”
Seemingly unperturbed by the young officer’s distress, Jorge proceeded to take off his pants, and without batting an eyelid, he held them out in front of him. “Here,” he instructed in a flat voice. “Put these on.”
Relief turned Tom’s legs to rubber, and although desperate to hide his nudity and get the hell out of Dodge, it took him a moment before he felt steady enough to let go of the wall. The vigorous thumping of his heart spurred him on, and snatching the pants from Jorge’s hand, he struggled into them and pulled up the zipper. “Let’s go.”
Jorge hesitated for a moment before slipping on his shoes. It was a sobering moment, the moment he realized he would never be with the man he loved. But after casting one last look around the room that still haunted his nightmares, he took Tom by the hand and led him up the rickety stairs to freedom.
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Beneath a Heart of Darkness