The leader laughs, jerking into Carver and slapping on the ass. That time, Carver barely reacts, just bits his lip and presses his cheek into the sheets. He barely fights as one of the others tears a strip of blanket from the bedding and forces it over his face. Sending the world dark.

Things blur. Someone eventually cuts the zipties on his hands, threatening him with a knife if he tries to get him, to fight, but there's already a man inside him, fucking him hard and bearing him down as the others bind Carver's hands in front of him. Better on your shoulders, they jeer. And that way they can force him to push himself up onto his forearms, take it different, deeper. He tries to count, to mark details about who fucks him and how, but it all blurs. If he focuses too hard on certain details, he starts to panic and they shush him, stroking his hair almost kindly, and that's worse.

He goes quiet after a while. Barely there. He doesn't react much at all when Pope's hands are untied, and he's forced onto the bed.