Chapter 6

LEON'S POV

The air in my bedroom felt like it had been replaced with thick, lukewarm soup. Every breath was a labor, a heavy drag against my lungs.

I collapsed onto my bed, not even bothering to pull back the duvet. I just wanted to dissolve into the mattress. I wanted to forget the locker and what I had seen, but at the same time I wanted that memory pumped into my veins. I wanted to see Aaron like that again.

“Ugh, no,” I dragged a hand down my face, wondering what kind of fever this was. I really didn't feel weak, and I wasn't burning up. If anything it just felt like I was sailing on clouds now.

I'd never smoked, or taken any hard drugs before, but I imagined this was what getting high would feel like.

A sudden ping! came through my phone's speakers.

The sound was tiny, but in the silence of my room, it sounded louder.

I groaned, reaching blindly for my phone.

The screen came on as I tapped it.

User_X: You looked good in school today. I didn't get that “thank you” though.

I sat up so fast the room spinned in a nauseating 360-degree. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

It was him. The one who'd saved me last night.

Me: I asked you this before but who are you? How are you doing this?

User_X: I’m the person who keeps your father from finding out that his son spends his nights writing about being “mercilessly fucked against a countertop.” That was a particularly poetic line, by the way. Chapter 9?

The blood drained from my face so quickly I felt faint. My fingers were shaking so violently I nearly dropped the phone.

Me: What do you want from me? I don’t have money. I’m sick. Please, just leave me alone, I'm not hurting anyone with my writing.

User_X: Money? God, you’re boring. I don't want your pennies, Leon. I want to see if you’re as brave in the flesh as you are on the page. I want to see if the Pastor’s son can follow instructions.

Me: instructions? I don't know who you are or why you're doing this but you've gotta stop or I'm calling the police.

User_X: And what would you tell them? Also, it's a bit too late to do anything. I have the cloud backups. I have the logs. I have a very long email list for the congregation of Grace Baptist. Imagine the Sunday bulletin: “Pastor’s Son’s Top Ten Filthiest Fantasies.”

Me: You’re a monster.

User_X: I agree. Now, pay attention. Meet me at Hotel Celestina in one hour. Room 402.

Me: I can’t. I have a fever.

User_X: Then crawl. And Leon? There’s a specific dress code for this meeting.

I stared at the screen, a cold dread pooling in my stomach.

What was I doing responding to this psychopath?

But even with this question in my mind, I still began to type.

Me: What?

User_X: Come without underwear. I want you to feel the air on your skin. I want you to feel the zipper of those prim little slacks against your dick, and perhaps you'll even like it because with every step you take. Consider it a penance.

Me: Are you insane? I’m not doing that! That’s…that’s harassment. That’s illegal!

User_X: Lol, illegal where? If you aren't at the door by then, I will press “Send” on all these files I have access to.

Me: No Wait! Stop, please!

User_X: You have 54 minutes. Tick tock, little mouse.

I threw the phone across the bed, a harsh sob rising to my throat. This couldn't be happening. It was a nightmare, it had to be.

The fever, yes…it was making me delusional, I thought.

But then the phone buzzed again where it landed, a reminder that the world was very real and very cruel filled with cruel people.

I stood up, the floor swaying beneath my feet. I had to go. I didn't have a choice. If my father saw those stories, and the evidence of my sexuality, he wouldn't just be disappointed, he would be destroyed. He would destroy me.

I moved to my dresser, my hands fumbling with the button of my school trousers. I felt like a fish out of water as I stepped out of them. Then, with a trembling hand, I reached for my boxers and pulled them down. The cool air of the room hit my bare skin, making me shiver, but not just from the cool air.

I pulled the slacks back on and the sensation was immediate and quite frankly, not terrible. I loved the feel of the starched, ironed fabric on my skin.

When I pulled the zipper up, the cold metal teeth grazed me, sending a jolt of pleasurable lightning to my brain.

“God, forgive me,” I whispered, though I knew he probably wasn't listening. Not to me at least.

I snuck out of the house like a shadow.

Every step was a fresh hell. Without the barrier of cotton, the movement of my legs caused the fabric to chafe and rub, and it was made even more uncomfortable as I felt myself growing hard.

“Damn it,” I cursed under my breath. I was extra sensitive today, my body was responding to things they normally wouldn't. Again I wondered what kind of fever this was.

By the time I reached the Hotel Celestina, I was drenched in a cold sweat. The lobby was a blur of gold leaf and hushed voices. I didn't look at the receptionist as I asked her for the room number. I barely registered what she said to me after she told me where I could find the room.

I staggered toward the elevators, my head spinning my thoughts into a dizzying mess.

402. Room 402.

The elevator door opened on the fourth floor with a soft chime and I stepped onto the plush carpet.

I remember wondering how rich this anonymous psycho was to be able to afford a high-end hotel like this, I walked through the hallway that stretched out before me.

“I shouldn't be here,” I muttered, suddenly realising just how stupid this was. What if he killed me?

I stopped before the shimmering numbers in front of a door with the number 402.

Without pausing to think so I wouldn't change my mind, I grabbed the brass handle and just turned it.

The door swung open.

The room was dimly lit, but my eyes adjusted quickly as I stumbled inside, the door clicking shut behind me.

A tall figure stood by the window, silhouetted against the fading city lights. I squinted at him, trying to make out why the shape of his head and shoulders looked familiar in the dim light.

“You're late.”

My heart stopped.

That voice… I recognised it.

“Damian?” I gasped under my breath, my knees finally buckling.