Disclaimer before you read: This book is intended for an adult audience. I feel obligated to inform you about the content, which may be a trigger for some. After all, the word "forced" is in the title. In any case, reader discretion is advised. You read at your own risk. Although, in my opinion—though this may disappoint some—it's not going to be overly brutal. Some blood here and there... But not gore. At least not at this stage of writing ;)
*****
Chapter 1
Ashton walked slowly, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat, as if he wanted to bury his arms and shoulders in them, shrink down, disappear into the shadows. The November air tasted of dampness and iron, settling heavily on his tongue, reminding him of the entire day spent wandering stairwells that smelled of chili and detergent.
The door. The smile. The presentation. The rejection.
The door. The smile. The presentation. The slam.
One client let him in. An older woman with a face lined with wrinkles like dried-up earth. She listened politely, nodded, then said that her husband bought a vacuum twenty years ago, and it still worked, so a new one would be a waste. Ashton nodded, thanked her, and left. The commission evaporated like steam.
He felt like his whole life had been this day: presenting something he no longer believed in, and people closing doors in his face with mild pity or impatience.
And he was only 24.
The park was a shortcut. He knew it well. A wide avenue lined with old chestnut trees, benches with chipped paint, a fountain silent at this time of year. After dark, the place took on a different character. The lamplight spilled in patches, between which thick darkness lurked. Ashton instinctively quickened his pace, his steps quick and light, even though his body felt as though someone had filled it with lead.
Head down. Shoulders slightly hunched. A steady rhythm in his steps.
He pretended not to be there. The park attracted all sorts of shady characters. I mean, they were probably interesting—covered in tattoos, with spring-loaded knives in their pockets or something like that. But Ashton wasn't in the mood for that kind of "fun" acquaintance.
From a distance, he heard laughter. Rough. Brief. Chopped off. Probably that local madman who liked talking to trees and doing... things with them.
Ashton stared at the pavement. His heart quickened. In places like this, a person became a shadow, a shadow among shadows, hoping the other shadows would stay just as invisible.
A scream ripped through the air like tearing fabric. High. Female. Full of panic.
He stopped so suddenly that his soles squealed against the damp cobblestone. The sound echoed inside him. His heart leapt into his throat. He took half a step back, as if he wanted to retreat from even hearing it.
Thoughts rushed into his head, quick and sharp.
It's not your problem.
Someone will call for help.
You have your life.
Someone...
The scream came again, closer, more strangled.
Ashton felt something inside him tighten like a string. His fingers clenched into fists inside his pockets. His shoulders straightened. His breath deepened, becoming steady and heavy, like before jumping into cold water.
He hesitated for a fraction of a second, a stretch of time that seemed to stretch like rubber.
And then he moved.
He ran toward the sound, feeling the coat flap behind him, the cold air slicing through his lungs like a blade. His heart pounded like a hammer, blood thundering in his ears, drowning out everything except his own breath.
He stumbled onto a small square between the trees.
He saw her first. She was wearing a white coat.
Dark hair scattered over her shoulders, a pale face twisted with fear, her hands struggling against someone's grip. Two men held her on either side. They loomed over her, their height and broad shoulders towering. Long robes hung to the ground, heavy and black, hoods covering their faces. In the lamplight, they looked like they'd been cut from another age, like shadows in human form.
One man held her by the wrist. The other stood closer, saying something in a low, steady voice.
Ashton felt fear coil around his spine.
He took a step forward.
"Hey!" he shouted, his voice coming out sharper than he'd expected. "Leave her alone!"
The two hooded figures turned slowly.
Their movement was synchronized, fluid, as if they were one organism.
The girl jerked her hand free. She ran toward him. Her hair streamed behind her like a black streak.
"Please!" she cried, grabbing his arm.
Her fingers were icy.
Ashton felt adrenaline flood his body, a wave of heat surging through him. He stood in front of her, spreading his legs wider as though he could build a wall with his own body. His heart hammered. His hands trembled. The realization that he was facing two men, heavier, bulkier, pressing down on him, almost crushed him—but under his skin, something harder than reason was bubbling up.
"Step back," he said, his voice steady. "I called the cops and..."
He was bluffing. And they probably knew it, because they didn't seem scared by the warning. Or maybe they just didn't care about the police.
The hoods hid their faces. One of them stepped forward. The robe rustled. He didn't say a word, but his very presence was more intimidating than any threat.
Ashton swallowed. His knees felt weak. Still, he moved.
The first punch came out of nowhere. His fist shot forward, hitting something hard beneath the fabric. Pain shot through his knuckles. The man staggered back half a step. Really? Ashton was stunned. Maybe there was a chance…
No. There wasn't. The second man swung wide. Ashton instinctively dodged, feeling the rush of air beside his ear, losing his balance. He didn't fall, maybe by some miracle. He grabbed the girl's hand and pulled.
"Run!" he yelled.
They ran.
Behind them, robes rustled and quick footsteps echoed. The park transformed into a maze of light and shadow. Branches grabbed at their clothes, gravel kicked up from under their shoes. Ashton felt the weight of the girl's breath, her fingers digging into his hand with the strength of desperation.
The lamps flickered between the tree trunks like giant eyes.
But they couldn't run forever. Fatigue was catching up with them. And if it was hard for him... He glanced at the girl. She was gasping. Meanwhile, behind them, Ashton could hear the steady, deep breaths of their pursuers, like this sprint was nothing to them.
And they were getting closer.
The girl stumbled. Ashton jerked her upright. Her coat caught on a branch and tore with a sharp crack.
They burst into an open space by the fountain. And then someone grabbed the collar of Ashton's coat, freezing him in place.
He released the girl's hand, and she kept running. She didn't look back. The second man went after her, but then the light hit them like a wave.
White. Blinding. Without a source.
Ashton squinted, raising his hand to shield his face. The air thickened, charged with something electric. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His ears filled with a high-pitched sound, like a continuous tone stretched to the breaking point.
Was that...? What the hell was that?
He didn't have time to think, because the ground beneath his feet trembled.
Ashton felt the earth shift under him, as if someone had pulled the thin thread that reality hung on.
A scream was swallowed by the light.
Whose scream? The girl's? The pursuers'? Or maybe... his own?
And then silence.
The air smelled sharp, fresh, like after a storm. But there hadn't been a storm in over two months.
Ashton lay on a hard surface. It felt like a tone. It was cool and smooth. He opened his eyes slowly, trying to make sense of what had just happened. But his head was pulsing and spinning. He felt nauseous, and there was pain in his eyes, like nails were being driven into his skull.
He tried to sit up. He tried to stand, but he was too disoriented. He fell hard onto his knees and hands. He couldn't see clearly, couldn't hear properly, but one thing was certain—he was no longer in the park.