Hustler

HUSTLER chapter one. ---The middle-aged man pulled a twenty from his pocket, more than he had ever willingly let out of his grip all at once, but today, it was needed to gain the trust of someone he hoped would be his new worker. Davide Grieco sighed at the piece of paper before forking it over to the cashier on the other side of the counter. She tried to muster up the nicest ‘thank you’ she could, the man’s presence making her feel uneasy. Seconds away from handing Davide seven cents back, he shined a smile at the teen, shaking his head. “Keep the change,” he told her as if he was doing the whole world a favor. And though the girl did bite back her scoff with a forced smile, she rolled her eyes when Davide huffed the two large pizzas off the counter and hauled them out the front doors of the Papa John’s she unfortunately happened to be working at. Of all the eateries, right? What luck. Her co-workers laughed at her grimace. Davide’s feet took him effortlessly down the rush-hour filled streets, the time of day making a smile come to his face. He knew he’d have no problem finding the boy now, him having left the doors of the high school building - Davide recalled the time - not even half an hour ago. Waiting for the light to turn, Davide rehearsed his lines, down to the very pronunciation, tone. It had to flow perfectly. He needed a new recruit. His own paycheck was riding on it. After losing the star of the show, a certain group of gun-loving foreigners were angry with him and the disease that took her down. His disease. His fault. Davide zipped across the intersection, taking a few glances up at the hefty building that sat at the corner of the block. A motel that he brought up from the ground, rightfully (uh, egotistically) naming it after himself and what his intents were. Grieco’s Blue Moon - there’s a full moon out tonight.

Instead of trekking into the establishment’s front door, he kept his walk straight for the stripmall, and praised the heaven’s when a certain figure came into his view. Lounging down on a pile of blankets, his schoolbag under his feet and back pressed firmly against the side of the building, sat exactly who Grieco hoped to see. The dark-haired boy was all he had on his mind for weeks, and he was finally going to make an attempt at chitchat. The teen was stunned to see someone coming down the alleyway, into his temporary home. The identity of the stranger left him feeling cautious. He tipped his head down nervously to the ground, fidgeting with his hands. One of his thumbs retreated up to the corner of his mouth when Davide figured he was close enough to make conversation. “Hi,” he ventured, stopping right in front of the boy, making him looking up. His eyes locked on Davide distrustfully, but he nodded up at the him. “Hello?” Kiran Nelson gave the greeting back quietly, warily. He tried not to focus too long on the box in Davide’s hands, but the smell registered to him as food, and he felt his stomach tightened with hunger. He scolded himself once more for putting ‘not freezing to death this winter’ as his number one priority, which coaxed him into buying the large comforter he now used as a butt cushion. He knew this particular moment counted on him surrendering to the bigger issue that was hunger. He wish he had bought lunch at school today. He wondered what Davide’s intents were, coming down this lone alley with a box of pizza in his hands. ‘Why was he talking to me?’ Then it clicked. Charity. That was something Kiran knew too much about yet not enough, his financial state and age reeling in charity and pity every so often, but not as much as he’d like. Davide saw the glimmer in Kiran’s eyes. He raised the box up slightly, smiling when they followed the motion. “Hungry?” he asked rhetorically. Kiran continued to downplay his hunger, a faint smirk on his face as he shook his head. “Nah,” he said sarcastically. He gestured in front of him, as if a large display of food was laid out inches away. “Just had myself a buffet. You go on your way now, sir. Maybe tomorrow, but I don’t know. I just got off the phone with Subway and they owe me about ten foot longs.” His retort made Davide’s smile widen, and hearing Kiran’s voice for the first time made his skin tingle. It was rough and deep, smooth. There wasn’t a twange that gave anything about his personal preference away, but Davide hoped there was a little curiosity in there somewhere.

Willingness for cash, maybe? What’s the term - gay-for-pay? Can that be the deal for this child? Davide stepped forward to present the pizza. Flicking the fold back, he knelt to join the young man on the ground. “Here, have some anyway,” Davide offered, setting the box down in his own lap. “It cost me twenty bucks and I’m a greedy bastard, so it wasn’t that easy.” Kiran smiled at Davide’s words but couldn’t keep the confusion out of his stare. He looked at Davide again with slight wariness, then at the pizza with hunger. “Are you serious?” he said hesitantly, that laughter still in his voice, but fading slowly. He stared at the food and remembered the last time someone had offered him something. The stomach aches he was wrecked with for weeks after. The raw and leftover ingredients gave him food poisoning. He was forever vigilant of the kindness of strangers, and he wasn’t getting the best signals from Davide Grieco. There was something there in the man’s eyes, something there every time the two crossed paths over town. For the past two years, the fifteen year old felt uncomfortable under Davide’s gaze, and very soon, he’d find out why. But he forced himself to at least give the man a chance. He had food. Kiran’s nose crinkled as he looked down at the gleaming cheese that covered the large pizza. He was very, very hungry. “Just cheese?” Kiran said with another twinge of sarcasm. “Way to dig deep.” The boy’s attitude was refreshing. Davide grinned. “Well, if you want, give me a few minutes and I’ll go run back clear across town to get you something else. Any recommendations?” Kiran’s eyes lit up at Davide, but he shook his head, peering into the box. He slowly reached in and grabbed the biggest slice he could find. “No, this works fine,” he assured Davide with a laugh. He looked from the pizza to Davide one last time before taking the world’s smallest bite. Just in case. He was under Davide’s stare until he finally downed the bite. Davide watched the boy’s mouth, having to suppress the urge to grab his chin and act out the long-awaiting kiss he’s been wanting to do ever since he first saw the adolescent out on the streets. From what Davide could understand, Kiran’s been all on his own, kicked out of his home for reasons unknown to him. A common sinful act being the true cause for his homelessness. The sudden company was starting to make Kiran uneasy. Davide could see that. He softened his stare and asked, “Good?”

He was happy to see Kiran nod, taking another bite. “Very good, actually - though now I’m a bit parched.” He leaned forward, glimpsing over his own shoulder, an indication that he was about to reference one of the little shops that made up the stipmall. “I think Marsh’s is having a sale on Gatorade, so…” His shoulders popped as he shrugged. “Just saying.” Davide smiled again, but first, he wanted to know just a little more before he even considered leaving Kiran alone for a few minutes. “How about you give me your name first? I’d like to know who I’m doing all this charity work for.” Though Davide’s intentions were starting to bubble out through his tone, that didn’t scare the boy away entirely. He was starting to like Davide’s stare more and more, even though Kiran didn’t feel the physical attraction Davide did. But the reminder of why he was out on the streets in the first place made it all bittersweet. “Right, right,” he said nodding. He stuck his hand out for Davide. “Kiran.” “Davide Grieco.” Davide had hoped that by name dropping himself, his identity would register to the now-proclaimed ‘Kiran.’ And that it did. “Grieco,” Kiran muttered under his breath, retrieving his hand from Davide’s. The name flooded through his memories in search of where he had heard it before. Repeating it several times, a certain neon sign popped into his brain, and Kiran’s brows rose as he exclaimed, “Oh, shit. You own that, uh, that place, right? Over down on Canal?” Davide tried to keep the smile off his face, simultaneously hoping the teen had no idea what really went on behind those closed doors, the fear that it would scare him off, but lucky for Davide, Kiran just knew it to be: “...a motel, right? - Wait…” Davide’s heart dropped, but lifted back up when Kiran began to smile. His index finger waved between them. “Are you...offering me a place to stay? Is that what’s going on?” And as fast as the smile appeared, it vanished off Kiran’s face. “Oh,” he said, beginning to shake his head sadly. “I wouldn’t be able to pay rent - I mean, if that’s what’s going on. Is that what’s going on? Are you serious? I don’t have a job or anything; it’s kind of hard for people to want to take me -...” “That’s exactly what I’m here to talk to you about,” Davide interrupted. “A room to rent, a job, food to eat whenever you want. The whole nine yards. Would you be interested?” He was too well-rehearsed. It struck a chord with Kiran; he was feeling anxious again. The only thing Kiran could get himself to say continued to be, “Wait. Seriously? I mean, what’s the catch?”

“Why’s there gotta be a catch?” Davide asked with a laugh, though he had several in his mind. “Why can’t I just decide to do something nice? I’m offering you a place because it does my heart good.” Kiran would’ve taken Davide’s words as a genuine answer if it hadn’t of been for the last sentence. Kiran’s eyes narrowed, a smile was still on his lips. “Really, though,” he laughed. “What’s the catch?” Davide’s mouth went into a line to hold back his smile. “I wouldn't necessarily say it’s so much of a ‘catch,’ but I mean -” “Oh, of course. I knew it. Knew it.” “- I just need you to promise me you’ll come by maybe tonight and we can talk about it. How about that? I have a lot of jobs open for you to do. I’ve talked to my supervisors about it, everything. You come by and we’ll find one that’s a match for you.” Kiran’s eyes were still narrow, unsure, and distrustful - he was too rehearsed - but he played the last feeling down. He didn’t feel right. Davide didn’t seem right. But it was place to sleep at night, and with fall halfway over and winter close behind, shelter was a thing he needed. In the bed of trucks wasn’t going to cut it this time around. He needed a real bed of his own. It’s been two years. Two long, long years. “I promise,” Davide spoke again. “You can trust me. Okay? Honestly, I’m just trying to help you out. You out by yourself - it kills me to see. If you stop by, and you don’t like any of the job openings…” The next part of his sentence stuck in his throat, but looking at that boy’s young, fresh, eager face...Davide was reminded of his age. He didn’t know the exact number, but knew it was low. Davide had to play it safe, or his business was going down. Fifteen. He was so young. Too young to be on his own like this. Sleeping on the streets. It’s too much. Davide really did want to help, but his hidden agenda could do more bad than good. When am I ever going to get a chance like this again? he tried to negotiate with himself. If I don’t get someone new fast, I’m done. That’s it. He had a month to fill the open position or he’d be dealing with something worse than the police. “If you don’t like any of what I have to offer you,” Davide picked up his sentence, “then we’ll figure something out. Well, we’ll have to. I can let you rent a room, but you’ll need to pay for it somehow, because as much as I’d like to, I can’t just let you stay there for free. I can’t. Remember that.”

“What would I need to do? What kind of jobs?” Kiran asked, hating the thought of passing up an opportunity like this. He’s never had someone offer him a place to sleep. Food, money, sure, but that’s where they draw the line. This was the first time someone had ever been this generous. He expected Davide to at least say ‘room service’ or janitor, but no insight was given. Kiran was just told again to stop by - “Try to tonight. We need to get you out of here before it gets too cold.” - and then Davide was on his way. Just like that, the meeting was over. But hell - Kiran looked down at his lap, at the food Davide so kindly told Kiran he could keep. If anything, at least he got a meal out of it. “What is this, like a job interview?” Kiran said aloud to himself as he stood in front of one of the mirrors in the Marsh’s restroom. I don’t have to dress up, right? He stared at his reflection, down at his attire. He was a fifteen year old boy. How classy do you think he dressed normally? A homeless teen, nonetheless. Kiran tilted his head to the side. He raised his brow, puckering his lips as he mimicked the duck face, then all shit went south when he pulled in his head, causing rolls to form under his chin. He crossed his eyes. Seeing the God awful face he was pulling, against all sane thought, he winked at himself. “Damn, I’m sexy,” he boasted sarcastically, letting his face go back to normal. Nah, he went back to his previous thoughts, kind of like an interview but probably like when you’re at summer camp and everyone’s giving jobs to do. You’re just shown around, job titles are said, but it doesn’t matter; you’re just stuck cleaning toilets anyway. He could do room service. As long as he didn’t have to deal with people, a-okay. Kiran took a step back and wondered over to an outlet near the hand dryer. His Optimus V was pulled in and charging. The first phone he had ever gotten, age 13, eighth grade. It no longer had any service, seeing as the bill hasn’t been paid for two years, but the clock was all Kiran really used it for. White letters emitted the time to him. 6:09pm. “I guess I should...go?” he asked himself, hoping the eighty-percent battery was all the phone needed in order to last through the night, then blare it’s alarm at six to let Kiran know it was time for school. He yanked the cord from the wall, pushing it into his Nike backbag, the phone slipping into the side pocket. He checked the mirror one more time, prayed that sex really did sell, then walked himself out of the store.

Kiran got himself lost several times since he had never really seen the motel in person, just heard stories of it’s location, unknowingly passed by it every once and a while, but that’s all. Surprisingly, it was the city’s ‘best kept secret’ in that not one single person had any clue what actually went on there, despite the amount of business it brought it. It’s all ‘hush, hush’ I guess. Eventually, Kiran was able to place the neon sign in his mind to the actual IRL sign. His feet finally found the blocky building; it sat right across for the Dollar General. Kiran studied each door that led to their own little room. All were closed, blinds were snapped shut, but nearly every one was inhabited at the moment, their residents busy with something foul. There were three floors in total, but five complexes with about a dozen rooms on each floor. It was a runned-down building. It’s recently new addition caught Kiran’s attention. For nearly five years, on the first floor of one of the complexes, sat what used to be a dining room, but now, as the neon lights dubbed it, it was something new entirely. Grieco’s Blue Moon - nude dancers “Well then,” Kiran mumbled, taking his eyes away from the sign. “It’s that kind of motel.” But he only knew the half of it. Kiran found the motel’s check-in, the walls replaced by glass windows that let Kiran see that the room was empty except for the girl working the front desk. She sat doodling her name on Post-it notes, only taking a break to glance up briefly at Kiran when he brought himself through the door. McKenzie Harris’ green eyes were a little too hollow and dead to belong to the young teen she seemed to be. Her dyed-blonde hair hung up in a ponytail, leaving her bony shoulders and long neck to proudly display the hickies and bruises that she had gotten over the past few months. Her tanktop doing just the same for her thin arms. She went back to doodling as Kiran took a step closer and leaned against the counter. Without looking back up, she spoke. “Here to meet someone, baby?” she asked him, her voice going higher than it normally is. Her attention hitched up after Kiran took a second to nod. “Yeah, I guess. This guy - Davide, I think.” She set her pencil down, eyes doing a double take on the teen in front of her. They took in his physique, his large, calloused hands - she liked his fingers in particular - broad shoulders, quite common for a teenage boy. She peered at the forearms his rolled up sleeves left out in the open. the veins that pushed against the skin, typically something she feared seeing, only seeming to be able to match the sight with

flashbacks, reminders of those veins belonging to a pair of strong arms that pinned her to a squeaky, dungey bed. McKenzie looked to his face; the jawline, tanned skin, dark brown eyes with a tuff of hair to match. She felt her mood drop even more. Why don’t I ever get anyone cute? she groaned in her mind, but a smile curved her lips as she said out loud, “Well, aren’t you special. You from across town or somethin’? Stables? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.” Stables? Kiran asked his brain. I’m not a fuckin’ horse. Then figured she thought he was some type of delivery boy, here to give something to her boss - and unknowingly, he was. “No, I don’t think we’ve met,” he answered her, shaking his head. “I’m actually here to talk about a job or something. Apparently, there’s an opening.” The word ‘job’ grabbed McKenzie’s attention and it all locked into place, but Kiran’s tone made her frown. She immediately realized that either the boy was knowingly holding back from saying the real job title, or - she feared - he had no idea exactly what he was getting into. Grieco’s done this before. Picked kids up off the street with the cliche promise of something great, then shoving them into a world plagued with disease and trickery. It was like that for half the workers here. It was like that for her. At thirteen she was brought in off of one street corner just to be put right back onto another. It was heaven for an hour, then she got her first client. Three years had passed but the pain of being deceived like that still scarred her badly. Her throat burned as she looked at him with a loss for what to do. Should I….? she began to ask herself boldly. Should I tell him? Give him the chance to run like hell? Balance my karma? But she stayed quiet, only nodding. You gotta figure life out on your own. No one was there to save me. Her thumb jabbed towards the closed door that was marked ‘Management.’ On the other side sat Davide, but he wasn’t alone. He went in with a man that gave McKenzie the chills. Nothing but muscles and Jesus hair. “He’s in there,” she told Kiran. “Busy right now, but he’s there.” She stepped back from the counter and began her walk towards the door.“I’ll go tell him you’re here. He’s got a meeting, but…Can I get you name?” she asked him, nodding once he revealed himself. “I’m McKenzie.” She knocked twice before getting the word to come in. She was in there for only a few seconds, but came out like she had just fought a war. McKenzie felt like she had just sold another soul to the devil. That was when her go-to defence mechanism kicked in.

She smiled up at Kiran, brushing her hand over his shoulder. “How ‘bout after you’re done talking to him, you come see me?” Kiran’s brows rose as he met McKenzie’s gaze. “Oh,” was all he got out, and she was fine with that answer, seeing the smile he let out with it. Her fingers trailed over his back momentarily, then headed for the counter. Before she sat down, she exclaimed to him, “Free of charge and everything!” revealing that she did indeed have a personality. Kiran took her response as another joke, chuckling a phrase of gratitude. He had to wait a few seconds for Davide to finish up with his supposed meeting, but instead of telling the man to leave, Davide just called Kiran in to join them. Kiran gave a look back to McKenzie and saw her shrug though she had learned who the man was when she went in to inform Davide of Kiran’s arrival. That man...was Kiran’s first client. “Shut the door,” Davide instructed Kiran to do before he was barely even in the room. Kiran followed his instruction, peering back again at McKenzie once more, then at the door when it clicked shut. The two men stood, and Kiran got a look at the stranger. He was like one of those guys you see at the gym, and your jaw drops, and you think, ‘Dude, why are you still here? You’ve won. Go home.’ He could rip a building in half just because it was a Wednesday. You could see through the man’s suit jacket that he was ripped beyond belief. He towered over Kiran, Kiran’s head only coming up halfway to his shoulder. His hair was to his chin and dyed a dirty blond over the brown his thick brows, ‘stache, and roots showed naturally. His biceps could eat me and still be hungry, Kiran thought rudely, taking his focus to Davide when Davide lifted his hand between Kiran and the man. “Kiran,” he said, “meet Miguel. Miguel, meet Kiran.” Why am I meeting him…? Maybe...he was going to ‘show me the ropes’? Davide’s ‘star employee’? Kiran swallowed hard and nodded, saying, “Hi.” Miguel smirked. “Hi.” Kiran was stunned when Miguel didn’t go in for the excepted handshake but a rough pat on the back. It was enough to almost send the hundred-and-fifty pound boy flying. He tried to keep his balance, grunting out in shock anyway.

They laughed at Kiran’s reaction. Kiran waited for Miguel to say ‘Do you even lift, bro?’ when Davide’s voice was heard instead. “I told you he was young,” he told Miguel, a certain tone behind his words. Kiran raised his brow, looking between the two as they exchanged a grin. His forehead creased at Miguel’s chuckle. “Oh,” he heard him say, the smile clear in his voice. “How old are you, baby?” Kiran had to suppress a gag. "Fifteen." "Oh, you're so young." Kiran nodded slowly at Miguel's smirk, confused. “Yup,” he said. “Is that going to be a problem?” If it was going to affect what jobs he could work, he would rather lie about his age, knowing that if it could be the dealbreaker, he’d be right back out on the streets. Seeing Miguel and Davide exchange a smile, a feeling spun into Kiran’s stomach, and his brow pricked up. Davide shook his head, shrugging. “Shouldn’t be. Not if it stays between us.” “What kind of job is this, exactly?” Kiran finally asked, somewhat afraid of the answer. “I’m not, like...I don’t know - wine tasting, am I?” His naivety made them laugh again. “No,” Davide chuckled. “Nothing like that.” Kiran felt a speck of sweat hit his back. He made himself nod. “Great.” “Virgin?” Miguel asked, tightening his grip on Kiran’s shoulder. Kiran could’ve sworn he felt the blood drain from his face. He shook the man’s hand off. “What?” Kiran asked right back, his question going unanswered. Davide nodded. “I think so.” “What?” Kiran said again. He was ignored. “I’ll show you to your room,” Davide continued on, coming around his desk. There were empty boxes of Chinese take-out sprawled across the surface. They were waiting for him. For how long? Why? “I’m fine,” Kiran insisted, feeling his heart rate began to speed up.

“No,” Davide shook his head, his hand grazing against the boy’s shoulder blade. Kiran was turned towards the door as Davide’s hand shifted over both of his shoulders. He went on. “Don’t you want to know where you’re staying? Come on.” But Kiran pulled himself out of Davide’s hold. He asked again, more sternly than before, “What kind of job is this?” He thought of McKenzie. Either she liked to get around in her free time or those hickies and bruises were a result of what went on here. And the section of the first floor marked ‘nude dancers’ - he was starting to catch on. Davide bite the inside of his lip, sharing a look with Miguel. He faced Kiran, gently placing his hands onto his shoulders. He spoke lowly. “Listen to me,” he began coaxingly. “Don’t ask any questions. Please. I’m trying to do all that I can to help you out. You see that girl out there?” he asked, lifting on of his fingers to gesture to the door. He was referring to McKenzie. “Her?” he said again. “I saved her life; she was out there sleeping in the streets when I found her, hadn’t eaten a real meal in months, a drop-out. What do I do? I took her in, gave her a place to stay, and food to eat. Exactly what she needed. I gave her love - and she’s not the first. Me?” He let go of Kiran’s shoulders, kept his anxious stare, to point to himself fleetingly. “It’s what I do. I see kids like you out there on your own and it kills me.” Because the less fortunate are gullible enough to do anything for anyone who promises them a future. “Because it’s a sad, sad world we live in if we’re going to throw away these great children who have so much potential - just...kick them out, turn a cheek. Do you understand?” Kiran didn’t, but Davide’s fingers pressing into his shoulders, the look his soulless eyes gave him...he clenched his jaw and nodded, just hoping it was enough to make Davide stop touching him. “Are you going to trust me?” Davide asked, continuing to massage his fingertips against Kiran’s crawling skin. That face that Davide had come to love seeing looked at him with such distrust. That was when Davide knew that if Kiran didn’t give in...he’d have to be dealt with for no other reason than having a mind of his own that didn’t react keenly to what Davide wanted to wheedle in. There are others, Kiran thought sadly, who had been used so wrong for having so little. Targeted. I was going to be one of them? Really? I’ve managed two years, he reminded himself suddenly. I can handle however many more. I don’t need to do this. I don’t want to. But looking back into Davide’s eyes, Kiran suddenly feared his disagreement might do more harm than anything. He had a feeling that if he said no, despite what Davide was telling him, he might not see the light of day ever again. Why? Because he could leave here with the knowledge of went on here? The underground child-sex-trade that Davide Grieco ran easily with the help of runaways? Because he used his fucking mind and sanely thought to decline the offer? Kiran knew that was a possibility. A possibility he’d be fine not coming face-to-face with, knowing that however Davide or Miguel would kill him, it’d be worse than the famine, disease, freak accidents that could get him out on the streets.

Kiran was forced to give an answer when his shoulders were being shaken slightly. “You listening to me, kid?” Finally, Kiran nodded, a nod that Davide took as his final answer. He let go of Kiran’s shoulders, reaching for the door handle. “Then come on. You’re on the second floor.” Kiran averted eye contact with either men, briefly looking at McKenzie when he was escorted out of the office. She frowned, eyes darting down at her pile of discarded Post-it notes when she caught sight of Kiran’s pale, petrified face. A look she’s seen walking out of that room too many times. Because of me? she asked herself mournfully. I could’ve told him. He’s better off dead than here. I’m such a bitch. Tense and guilt-ridden, she started picking at her cuticles. Davide asked her to find the key to room A17, snapping at her when her fumbling hands had her dragging out the simple process. She handed it over, pretending to go back to her doodles, anything to keep herself from reading Kiran’s face for emotions. Kiran stared at the ground, cringing each time Davide guided him when a nudge. Walking passed each door, he heard sounds that made him feel sick to his stomach, sounds he’d feel being breathed down the back of his neck come soon enough. I just want to go home, his mind pleaded. I want to go home. Sooner than Kiran would’ve liked, the stood outside room A17, Kiran’s home until his life would dramatically change again in just a few years, and that impending situation was going to make Kiran spend each night wishing he was back here. Though he would beg to differ as he stared into the empty motel room the door opened up to reveal. The lights flicked on and he regarded the interior with mixed feelings. It was a room nightmares took place in with a bed he would spend more time on his stomach in, a stranger on top of him, than actually sleeping. A dresser he’d soon keep copious amounts of narcotics in that he would use just to get himself through another consultation. There was a bathroom he’d find himself in at three in the morning, hurling into the toilet, crying in the shower. A tiny kitchen he would barely use, the feeling of hunger never fully returning to him. And

several feet away from that, a small couch with an equally small coffee table in front of it, as well as a dinky little TV that only had ten channels on it. He scowled at the sight of his new home, his lip quivering momentarily as it all began to set in. It was a place to sleep, eat, live, but ‘home’? Nothing about it was inviting. I’d rather die. That horrible feeling in his gut didn’t go away. It sunk in deeper when Miguel let himself into the room, heading over towards the bed. He sat and waited for Davide to say something. Kiran’s ears tensed right along with his throat at the sound of Davide speaking. “Why don’t you go sit next to him, baby?” He felt sick. Kiran squeezed his fingers against his palms, hands starting to shake at his sides. “Do I have to?” his voice cracked out. The fear in the boy’s manner would’ve turned even the hardest criminal to tears, but Davide was now numb to the reaction, having had seen it so many times already. “Go,” he said coldly. “He’s paying two hundred bucks for you. Go.” When the only reply Davide got was the sight of a tear rolling down Kiran’s cheek, he sighed, lifting his finger as a signal for Miguel to stand. On instinct, Kiran took a step back, crying out when Davide shoved him forward, landing him right into Miguel’s grip. Kiran’s fingers dug straight through Miguel’s sleeves and into his skin, having no effect on the man. Kiran was yanked against his chest. The tears pushed themselves out, the horrid sound of his crying cut through the air, ricocheting louder when he was slammed down onto the bed, being pinned down in a matter of seconds. Davide sighed yet again, but walked nonchalantly over to the bedside table, setting down the room key. “I’ll leave this here,” he mumbled, and walked a few feet before muttering louder, “Oh - Miguel, aspetti un momento.” Miguel tightened his grip on the back of the boy’s neck, pushing his screaming mouth into the mattress, quieting him until a sharp needle pierced the skin of his forearm. The plunger was jammed down, inserting the chip under his flesh, ensuing his panic attack with louder, hellish screams of agony. Davide stood, capping the needle. Pushing it into his shirt’s front pocket, he waved Miguel on. “Continue,” he murmured again, taking his leave for the door. He left the fifteen year old in sheer terror and pain, the trust the boy had felt for him no longer there at all, creating a new outlook Davide would use against him anytime he threatened to step out of line.

And with no where to go and no one to run to for security, the only thing Kiran could do was listen, and pray that one day, death would set him free. ‹

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dat chappy two. finally

---It’s kind of a bitch how fast people will judge based on a preconceived notion of what you do or say without even beginning to consider figuring out the backstory. Kiran knew he was going to be plagued with an awful name once word got about about the life got he dragged into not even two hours ago. They weren’t going to know the fight he put up, why or even how he got pushed into it. All they know is he’s a whore now -‘because that twenty dollah make him hollah.’ You get it. Messed up stuff. Lying in that filthy bed, he stared up at the ceiling, and grimaced at a rough set of lips gluing themselves to his chin. The scruff of a mustache and peach fuzz started to rot his mind of all coherent thought. Groaning, Kiran hit Miguel hard in the chest, surprised when doing the same gesture that minutes ago would’ve gotten him a whack in the jaw, but as he looked down at the ravaged boy who barely felt the need to cling onto life anymore, who was sore and traumatized because of something he had done, Miguel must’ve felt some sympathy. All he did was sigh. He perched himself onto his elbows and sat up to finish heaving up his jeans. He jumped up off the bed, standing still to push his face against his palms, then he dipped his fingers into his pocket to withdraw two Ulysses S. Grant marked fifties and a Ben Franklin stamped hundred dollar bill. Two hundred bucks in total, the promised price.

Coming around the other side of the bed, as he zipped and buttoned his jeans, Miguel didn’t make eye contact with Kiran, just stood inches away from him holding the money in his hands. “Two hundred,” he noted aloud. He spaced them out, counting the bills to their total for proof. Kiran didn’t respond. He turned his back to Miguel, digging his face into the pillow. Miguel’s jaw clenched, and he shoved his hand back into his pocket to take out another bill. He joined it with the others, now changing the dollar amount. “And a fifty...for yourself. It’s all I have left.” And again, Kiran stayed silent, just as Miguel thought he would. He set the money on the dresser and picked his shirt up from the ground. Once it was on, he left the motel room without another word, aware that contact with him was the last thing the boy wanted. The door clicking shut broke Kiran, and with a failed attempt at holding in a sob, his throat burned and he let it out until his eyes ran dry. He didn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t. A quarter to one, he rested in front of the toilet, his stomach telling him that the only way he’d feel better was if he purged until he saw blood, but he stopped long before that ever happened. His stomach was empty, not even the pizza came up - which he *totally* left under a trashcan, by the way. Along with his blankets and pillows. He thought he’d be back at his little ‘home’ by now, but seven hours had passed and he was still in this hellhole. Kiran leaned back against the wall, crossing his legs in front of him. He had pulled on his boxers after Miguel left, but that was all he could get himself to put on, the physical pain of what was taken from him made it a bitch to move at all. And he had several sheets of toilet paper wrapped up and underneath him, trying to stop something he didn't consider to think would happen. Not too long ago, he spent an entire hour having something forced inside of him repeatedly, with no preparation or consideration. He was bleeding. Badly. It ached and burned so much to the point where he felt numb. He periodically switched out the toilet paper stacks, the amount of blood loss making him have no choice. Closing his eyes, Kiran ran his fingers over his forearm. Smooth skin and then a tiny cylindrical welt where the microchip had went it. It drove him insane not knowing what it was or why Davide trapped it under his skin.

And it itched, but touching it almost got Kiran puking to the point of bloodshed, so he only looked. It was tiny (hence the given name: microchip), not even an inch in length, but it was causing a small rash on Kiran’s forearm. “What are you?” he asked the microchip, sanely not expecting an answer. He sighed and shut his eyes, tipping his head up towards the ceiling. Kiran was finally starting to fall asleep when his heart rate spiked, his blood running cold, at the sound of a light rapping coming from the outside of the bathroom, like someone was knocking on the door to his motel room. He’s back? Kiran’s thoughts immediately went to either Miguel or Davide - Or someone else? Another...client? At one in the morning? He wasn’t exactly sure on how this type of thing could go. Did he call the shots or his boss? Either way, Kiran didn’t get up to answer the door. He pushed his face into his hands, hoping that if he ignored the possible problem, it would disappear on its own, but once he considered the consequences he’d have to deal with for ignoring another walking ATM...yeah, no. Kiran didn’t care. Whatever Davide could do to him, he’d rather deal with that come the morning than be manhandled again right now. He carried on with blocking out the problem at hand, sighing in relief when the visitor only bothered to knock a few times before giving up. Kiran sat in silence, assuming they had left, and while he nearly fell asleep in his hands again, Kiran suddenly got a brilliant idea. I could just...leave...right? He could get up right now and take off out the door, sneaking by the Davide or whomever sat in at the check-in counter. It was dark out; there was less of a chance of someone spotting him. A simple solution that took him hours to finally think of, the fear of getting caught and punished for trying to leave combined with the reminder of the temp postponed it from even entering his mind. If Kiran planned on running off tonight, he’d have to do it now before it was too late, before whoever it was that was knocking at the door moments ago came back, with or without Davide. Without a second thought, Kiran hopped up from the tile floor, running into the main room. He picked his clothes into his hands, throwing them on as he went skidding (limping) around the room, looking for his phone that had gotten thrown to the ground, as well as his bag. He found the phone under the bed and threw it into his bag once he located it. Tossing it over his shoulder, Kiran stopped at the sight of two-hundred-and-fifty dollars chilling on the nightstand. It didn’t take much for him to cock his brow and shrug, snatching it from the table’s surface. He tucked it into his waistband, deciding to take the room key just for the hell of it.

He set his sprint for the door, stopping to peek out the peephole, relaxing when nothing waited for him outside besides the cool night air and darkness. Kiran took a deep breath, turning the latch slowly, in all efforts to make as little noise as possible. The door opened with a faint creak and Kiran stuck his head out through the opening. Mustering up all his courage, he bolted out onto the walkway, turning back to lock the door. He hoped there wasn’t a spare key to the room Davide could find and let himself in with, but knew that his being the only one in existence was very unlikely. He quickly made the haste decision to boot it down the staircase to his right, it being the smarter choice than the one that curved in front of the main office. But as he zipped passed the room next to him, he caught someone’s attention, anyway. After her failed attempt at checking in on Kiran and balancing her karma, McKenzie had headed back to her room with the assumption that he was asleep, exhausted from the hell he had been put through earlier tonight. But, hanging off the couch, her bed currently taken by a sleeping stranger, McKenzie's eyes crossed themselves when a figure quickly passed by her window, their shadow catching her focus. She flung herself up into a sitting position, touching her hand to her forehead, cringing in pain. Recovering from the trauma, she sat still and stared at the window, wondering if she should even bother. Shrugging it off, she made an ‘eh’ sound, and layed back down into the sofa, but only for like half a second. She jumped up and sprinted to look out the window, the curiosity getting the better of her. Her brow rose at the sight of who she could easily place as the fifteen year old boy she saw hours before, and had attempted at seeing less than ten minutes ago. A one in the morning, instead of sleeping, he was hauling his limping ass down the steps. What he planned to do when he got down them and hit the asphalt - with the help of his frantic manner - dawned on McKenzie quickly. She was out the door almost instantly. “Hey!” she snapped in a whisper, just about tripping herself down the stairs. Since the inflection of the voice sure as hell didn’t belong to a man, Kiran’s head snapped back and he skidded to a stop. “Where do you think you’re going?” McKenzie continued on. Kiran looked around, his forehead furrowing as he peered across the street. “Gas station - oh.” Seeing her make to the last step, Kiran felt a rush of panic fill him and he abruptly picked up his feet and began to sprint away. “I gotta go before it closes. See ya!” “You can’t just leave!” she informed him in a tone of disbelief.

Kiran’s pace slowed as he turned his upper body back towards the girl, popping his shoulders in a shrug. He forced a chuckle, joking, “Yet here I go.” If the circumstances were different, McKenzie would’ve laughed, but her eyes looked to where the asphalt met the sidewalk; merely inches away and Kiran’s feet could be crossing the line any second. A rush of panic now filled her veins and she threw herself forward to latch her fingers around Kiran’s bicep. Although her weight wouldn’t have been enough of its own, he still jerked back slightly in confusion. His reason for stopping completely was her yipping out, “I’m being serious - you can’t leave. He’ll know. Just listen to me.” She grabbed him by the wrist and snatched his sleeve up, going for the common injection site. Her finger jabbed towards the rash forming on his inner arm. “You see that?” she asked him rhetorically. His forehead creased as she pulled him to her side and zigged her index finger to the entrance of the building’s parking lot. There sat a hedge, and bolted in the dirt, hidden from view, was a wireless motion detector, its infrared lasers invisible to the naked eye and keeping watch of the perimeter. However, it being disguised as an ordinary lamp light, there to let you know where the asphalt ended and the greenery began, Kiran had no fucking clue what McKenzie was talking about. “The light?” he asked her skeptically. “You’d think so, huh? Motion detector.” Pointing out the similar set up on the other side of the parking lot, McKenzie put her attention back on Kiran’s arm. “Even try to step foot out of here, that’ll set it off - like an alarm - he’ll be after you in no time. Trust me. I’ve seen it happen.” Her voice was grave and the implication that there was a tracking device stuck under his skin made Kiran’s stomach cramp. He yanked his arm out of her hand and inspected the welt. He looked up at her. “What if I chopped my arm off? Leave it here, ya know, then...left. Think that would work?” There was a brief second before they both laughed. Anxiously. “Definitely seen it attempted,” she shrugged, then shook her head, smiling vanishing. “I’ve seen kids dig it right out of their flesh. They always end up back here. Griec’s got this weird way of finding you no matter what - hours, days, he’ll bring you right back home.” Kiran picked up the gist of things, nodding to himself.

“I shouldn’t test it, basically?" “I sure as hell wouldn’t.” “Well, great. That’s just...dandy.” He turned his back to McKenzie to look out at the street he hopped he would’ve freely skipped across not even a minute ago and been home free. Two blocks away was the alleyway he’d been sleeping in for the past month. He was doing just fine there - dare I say it, he was oddly content. Now, somehow, he’s here. The realization weighed in his stomach for the third time tonight. He felt his mouth twist into a frown and heard his voice crack when he asked McKenzie a heart-wrenching question. “Why’s he doing this?” McKenzie’s head shifted at an angle and she frowned, shrugging her shoulders, though she had an idea. A forced smile tightened over her teeth. “Money makes the world go ‘round, don’t it?” she said, like it was an unneeded reminder. “He needs cash just as badly as you and I. He’s just found a way to rake it all in without having to do any of the dirty work.” “Lucky for him.” “I know. It pisses me off. A lot.” McKenzie sighed and after sharing a look with her, Kiran did, too. “So...you’re telling me,” Kiran began, looking over his shoulder up towards his motel room. “I have to go back up there?” She nodded. “If I have to go back to my room, you have to go back to yours. Are you still in school?” she asked him and he nodded. “Then there’s your chance to be away from here. Make those eight hours count. Trust me.” “Do you go? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you.” She shook her head. “The day I got kicked out of my house was the last day I went to school. I mean, it’s not like my parents are there every morning making me go, so why would I?” Kiran mumbled a sound of agreement but what he ended up saying contradicted it. "Well, don't you think an education would be good? Get into college, get another job besides this. There's a reason school's compulsory, right?" McKenzie didn't answer his question. Kiran continued with, "It's one of the few ways to actually make it in the world - unfortunately."

"No, you're right," she was able to make herself acknowledge out loud. "Sucks, but you're right. I wouldn't really know how to start, not that I think I could, anyway. Griec's got me booked nearly all day, everyday. This job demands I actually listen to my boss. I’m fine," she went on. “I couldn’t go anywhere worse than where I am now, could I?” The corner of Kiran’s mouth drooped and he averted eye contact with her. McKenzie started to hate how this conversation was going. She sighed aloud in exhaustion, her eyes fluttering towards the main office and the empty front desk Davide was supposed to be situated in between hours eleven and six, but instead he snoozed in his office. The two teens regarded each other again with weak smiles before McKenzie decided it was time for them to part ways. “Well,” she started towards the iron staircase, stopping about halfway to finish her sentence. A smile was donned onto her pale, hollow face. “Hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ve gotta sleep at some point. Might as well try now.” Kiran pushed a faint smile back at her. He nodded. “I should probably do the same.” He took a second to join her on her path and as McKenzie reached her closed door, she scooted to let Kiran pass behind her. They both stood in front of their doors hesitantly. He unlocked his. One last smile of farewell then they disappeared from each other’s view. McKenzie shut her door and leaned her back against it. The stranger still dozed in her bed. She sighed and collapsed back down into the couch cushions. She was up for the rest of the night. Kiran did just the same, only he passed out at some point while watching the staticy recap of yesterday's news. He groggily awoke to knocking on his door and was startled into a sitting position when the door cracked open and Davide stood in the doorway. “It’s seven,” he informed. “You’ve got school, right?...That was you...wasn’t it?” Seven? Kiran’s jumbled mind raced. He was up an hour later than he usually is. My alarm didn’t go off? When he turned his head towards the doorway, he saw that Grieco was gone and the door was shutting itself. Kiran sprang up from the sofa and began to sift through his bag for a jacket, flinging it on when it was found. He hoped it was enough to fool people into thinking it was a different outfit than what he wore yesterday since he bailed on considering to bring a new change of clothes last night. He sprinted into the bathroom and used the toothbrush always in his bag to brush his teeth. Dragging his fingers through his dark hair, he went to wink at his reflection, but the image of his current appearance made him grimace.

“Oh, shit,” he gaped into the mirror. “What the fuck happened to you?” His eyes were bloodshot, leaving it obvious for everyone to either think he spent all night crying or getting high. His skin was also pale and blotchy from the tears he leaked until he finally crashed at four in the morning. And there were dark circles forming under his eyes from distress and exhaustion - he looked like a druggie. Already, and it's only been twelve hours. Kiran groaned again and quickly splashed his face with cold water from the sink - Proactive-commercialstyle. Using his jacket’s sleeves to dry off his face, he peered at his reflection, saw nothing had changed, and sighed. He went on his merry way out of the room, his school bag over his shoulder and room key in hand. He locked the door and two-stepped to sneak a peek into McKenzie’s room, seeing through the paperthin curtains that her bed was inhabited - by a middle-aged man and not the sixteen year old he expected. McKenzie was out of his view, whipping up a riveting breakfast of Poptarts in the kitchen. Knowing he’d probably catch her later, Kiran headed for the same stairs he treaded down last night. He considered stopping by to tell Davide he was leaving - maybe something had to be deactivated before he could pass through the motion detectors - but remembering the time, Kiran did not give a single diddily ding dang. He sped up his walk, and only got a few feet away before his name was called. “Hey - Kiran. Get over here." Davide stood at the front office’s door. Eye contact with Kiran made Davide raise his hand and motion for the boy to bring his ass over to him. Hesitantly, Kiran sauntered across the parking lot. Inches away, he noticed there was a device in Davide’s hands. A bulky thing, kind of like one of those price checkers you see Walmart employees walking around the store with. Kiran’s eyes looked warily at it and then at Davide’s fake smile. “Morning,” Davide said, shifting his weight onto the other foot. Kiran mumbled back, “Sup.” Davide’s smile widened and he chuckled. His hand was suddenly outstretched, awaiting. Kiran rose his brow. “Uhm?” he said and Davide answered after another amused chuckle. “Your arm,” he explained. “Uh - ? Alright.” Kiran slowly held his arm out and lifting Kiran’s sleeve, Davide took it into his hand. His touch sent a wave of disgust to Kiran’s brain and he cringed, having to look away, his jaw clenching. Davide ran his thumb over the bump once he located it. With a sigh, he raised the microchip scanner toward his face, scowled, and began to wave it slowly over Kiran’s inner arm until it beeped.

Kiran’s voice wavered to say, “So, uh, whatcha doin’?” “What grade are you in?” Davide asked instead. “Tenth?” “Mmm. Uh-huh.” Kiran’s arm was dropped from Davide’s grip as Davide focused on the screen. He typed in the boy’s name, storing it as ‘Kyrin’ into the database. A content sigh and then he smiled up at Kiran, but Kiran didn’t smile back. He looked at him distrustfully. “What did you just do?” Kiran asked, voice becoming stern. “Don’t worry about it.” “No,” he retorted with angst. “I think it’d be great if you let me in the loop. You’re messing with my life. You get that, right?” To that, Davide rolled his eyes. “Mouthy?” he characterized Kiran instantly in a sarcastic tone. “You’ve got an attitude. Great.” “Of course I have an attitude!” Kiran sniped incredulously. He repeated with such balls, much guts, “You’re fucking with my life. You really think I’m just gonna sit back and let you kill me? Fuck that.” Davide stemmed a new focal point. “You better come right back here after school ends." He was tense, irritated, but as you guessed, Kiran didn’t care. “Like hell I am,” he chuckled haughtly. “I’d die before I ever come back here on my own.” Davide shot him a look that ran his blood cold. His eyes were narrowed, his jaw gritted his teeth together. “Fine,” Davide didn’t sound at all like he was about to cave in. “If you’re going to act like a little bitch, you wait for me. I’ll pick you up." Kiran scowled and on command, he rolled his eyes. "Right,” he murmured sarcastically. "See you then.” He turned to leave in haste. Davide only let him move an inch before he said, “Uh?” holding his hand out. “What?” Kiran snapped out. A wave of anger fled through Davide and he had the passing thought to kill the boy where he stood - he had never brought in someone so mouthy, someone who even thought to disobey him. I could kill him, Davide thought arrogantly. And he wants to talk to me like that? He immediately knew Kiran was going to be a hassle, much more of a hassle than he knew he could handle. He was too keen on remaining independent, and it was going to do more harm than good in the end.

Trying to relax himself, Davide rubbed his index and middle finger against his thumb. “I believe you owe me rent.” “You expect me to pay you? I’m not coming back; I’m not renting anymore. Nothing to pay.” “We had a deal. I own you know - or at least that’s what that little chip in your arm is telling me. I’m giving you a bed to sleep in, food to stuff your greedy mouth with. You pay me. Now. You're going to have to everyday, 24/7, three-sixty-five until the day you die. Y'better get used to it.” “No.” Davide gritted, “Now.” Kiran was suddenly reminded of the real dangers of tracking device in his arm. If he continued to disrespect this man, this man who truly did ‘own’ him, who he would have to come back everyday to and deal with...he really would be dead before he walked off this property today. Pushing his tongue against his bottom lip, Kiran felt defeated. “How much?” he struggled to ask. Davide remembered setting a price with Miguel, but having met with countless of other clients after he left the two alone, he couldn’t recall the exact price. “How much did you make last night?” Imagining the scenarios that would happen if Kiran lied, he told the truth. Kind of. “Two hundred.” “That will do just fine.” More like that was an arrow to the knee. Kiran’s flabbergasted face let the world know he thought that was utter b.s. “Are you - ? All of it? The hell you put me through and I don’t even get to keep any of it? Are you fucking kidding me?” Davide countered grimly, “Do I look like I’m kidding?” He took a sharp intake of breath through his nose, trying to calm his heart rate, but the anger remained prevalent. Exasperated, he snatched Kiran’s wrist into his hand and yanked him forward. Kiran urgently pulled himself back, but failed against Davide’s strength. He seethed, “I have never had anyone talk to me like that before - never had anyone do that to me and live. I promise you, you ever do that again and I will kill you.”

Kiran refusing to make eye contact, adding with him trying to tug his arm from Davide, sent another ping of anger through him, and without a second thought, Davide had the teen by the throat. Utterly shocked, Kiran gasped for a breath and latched his hands around Davide’s fingers. All that did was make him tighten his hold. Now Kiran was on the tips of his toes. Against the intense pressure, he wheezed an incoherent plea. The sound had the opposite effect Kiran wanted. Davide’s hands gripped tighter and his teeth gritted harder down. “Do you hear me, whore?” he snarled. “Don’t ever talk to me like that again.” And though every fiber in the world told Kiran to shut his goddamn mouth, there was the nagging voice in the back of his head that almost fueled him to spat a ‘fuck you.’ His mouth even strained to voice it aloud, but the sight of Kiran’s lips forming the first letter of the insult resulted in the deathgrip tightening violently. Davide fed off of the whimper Kiran let slip out. He positioned their faces to rest merely inches apart from each other. A smirk found it way to Davide’s face. “Gonna say something?” he smiled. “Was it ‘I’m sorry, sir. I’m sorry I’m such a little bitch’? That sounds like a smart thing to say right now.” A wad of spit started to form in Kiran’s mouth. He wanted to aim right between the eyes, but knew swallowing would be better. First, he needed to have his throat released. Davide roughly shook Kiran fleetingly, asking again, “Was that it? Was that what you were going to say?” This time, when Kiran wheezed, he also nodded stiffly. Davide’s smirk grew and with that, he dropped Kiran out of his grip. The boy immediately faltered, his knees almost giving out completely. He slumped with his hands gripping his knees, and he wheezed and coughed, trying to take in a full breath of air. His throat burned. It burned to breathe. It burned to scream and cuss. He needed to stand up for himself. It's been years since he's ever let someone walk all over him like that. He was better than this. He was so much stronger.

But under Davide's glare and with the faint memory of last night still vivid in his mind, he felt weak and ashamed. He heaved in another breath and pulled his bag off his shoulders. He searched its contents for the money. Finding it, he threw it to the ground, mustering up the nerve to sneer up at Davide. He was met with another smirk. "I'll pick you up at three," he was told condescendingly. Kiran slowly rose from his hunched over position. Letting out a deep breath, his eyes slanted at Davide one more time. Davide's head tilted to the side, any trace of humor leaving his face. He spoke lowly, regretfully. "You are nothing like what I thought you would be.” Kiran's mouth went into a straight line and he huffed air out of his nose in a scoff. “Sorry to disappoint.” He expected to be smacked. Davide without a doubt wanted to be the one who dealt it. However, he decided against physically harming the young man - now, anyway. He’d be punished later. That was one thing he could count on. Receiving a tight-lipped smile from Davide, Kiran felt his throat tense and he began to walk away. Once he crossed the street, he heard Davide faintly groan in disdain. Davide took himself back into his office and pulled his phone out to dial a familiar number, making the call he hoped would satisfy his sparking frustration. And on the fourth ring, the line was answered. Thanks to that little show Kiran decided to put on, he wound up being extremely late for school, coming to the building’s doors fifteen minutes after the janitor made his rounds to lock them. At 8:16, Kiran pressed the red button marked ‘intercom’ and waited for Mrs. Ingle to buzz him in. “It’s open.” A beep signaled that true. Kiran leisurely let himself in, realizing there wasn’t any point in rushing. He made it. Who cares? Mrs. Struan did.

The head of the attendance office sat behind her desk, a phone at her ear as she ended the call with yet another frantic mother. Clicking the phone down onto the receiver, she playfully raised her brow at Kiran; he was already signing his name in on the tardy list. “Sleep in?” she asked him, a patronizing hum behind her question. Kiran smiled back at her. “My alarm didn’t go off.” “For the third time? You should really do something about that.” She shook her head at him sadly, then asked, “Tuesday or Thursday?” He was getting a detention. Kiran shrugged. “Let’s shake it up. Tuesday, I guess.” She was scribbling his arrival time and her signature onto a Post-it. “So after school today?” she doublechecked, handing it over to him when he nodded. “Becker’s room, right?” Mrs. Struan clarified, “His wife’s.” Kiran mumbled fake sounds of excitement and left the main office to the sound of her laugh. He bid verbal farewells to the the other two ladies working in the office, and was on his way up the stairs for his first period, Family Finance. “It’s an extremely vital class,” his counsellor told him in April of last year when the whole freshman class was taken in to schedule next year’s courses. Nearly the second quarter in, it’s writing checks, saving and spending money, insurance, the whole shabang. Mrs. Gibbons would be proud to know she was right, but Mrs. Burnside’s way of teaching would make every student in her class attest to thought that any of it was really taught. Kiran actually felt himself start to slow down at the thought of walking into the classroom and hearing Burnside’s scratchy voice, so he took a detour to the nurse’s office to pick up an ice pack for his butt, although he surely didn’t tell the nurse that. He gave the excuse of running his hip into the table by accident, that way she wouldn’t ask to see the bruise and the limp in his step would be explained. With the ice pack wrapped loosely in a couple squares of paper towels, Kiran left the office, and alas, his feet eventually waddled him to room 261, and as soon as he walked through the doorway and caught the closest table’s attention, err’body’s attention was on him.

One of his classmates, Kayla Block, was the first to acknowledge him. She shouted, “Kiran!” Mrs. Burnside echoed her exclamation, enthusiastically, resulting in about half the class doing just the same but with unfathomable levels of mocking. Then followed a voice from the back of the room groaning, “Dammit!” He turned to the boy across from him. “Alright. How many hash browns?” Drew Morgan pretended to think about it, smiled, then asked loudly, “Who wants McDonald’s tomorrow? Mason’s buying.” Mason laughed, “I honestly did not think he’d show up,” and blew a kiss when Kiran made it clear that he wanted to flip him off, but the teacher swarming in to put her hands on his shoulders stopped him. He heard Drew chuckle back, “Because he would definitely go to a Saturday school. Right.” “Kiran!” Burnside exclaimed again. “You’re here!” The woman’s overly zealous temperament clashed with Kiran’s current mental state. He flung his balled up fists into the air, hollering scornfully, “Yippee!” His rude response earned laughs from his fellow students but a genuine frown from his teacher. She relaxed her fingers, letting go of his shoulders timidly. “Well, it’s good to have you back,” she mumbled and then turned for her desk without even asking if he had a note from the office regarding his late arrival. Kiran roamed over to the seat he assigned himself on the first day of school, but at the table only meant to have a max of four people, normally only harboring two, sat six teens. Drew, Mason, two other dudes and those dude’s girlfriends who doubled up to sit on their boyfriend’s laps due to the lack of chairs. “Wow,” Kiran mused, coming to stop right next to Drew’s seat. “I don’t show up once and suddenly I’m out of the squad. Thanks for that.” The group laughed, along with the neighboring table of eavesdroppers as Kiran went to grab a chair from the empty table behind theirs. Much to Drew’s disapproval, might I add. Right as Kiran’s hands gripped the back of the chair, Drew turned his body at an unimaginable speed to cock his leg up and on top of the seat, plastering it to the floor. It dropped from Kiran’s hands and he instantly, in monotone, said, “Okay, Drew, no.” “But I’ve already saved you a seat.”

Kiran looked at the spot next to Drew, the one taken by a boy named Cam and his girlfriend Autumn. He motioned to it with a laugh. “Yeah, I can tell. You fought so bravely to keep it open for me.” Drew corrected, “Fought so bravely and won.” Kiran laughed out when Drew pulled back his leg and scooted his own chair back, gesturing to his lap. With a wink, he said, “For you, my love.” Autumn laughed, “Yeah, no one else was willing to sit there. It’s all yours.” “Fantastic!” Kiran exclaimed. He stepped away from the chair he had originally intended on picking up. Exchanging a smile with Drew, he slipped onto his lap. Drew fought the strong urge to put his hand around Kiran’s waist, knowing it’d be a bold move their flirtation had yet to take. He did, however, lean forward, casually propping his elbow onto the table’s surface and his fist under his chin. But his other hand didn’t get the memo. It absentmindedly curved around Kiran’s midriff fleetingly. Drew pulled it back when it touched something freezing. "The fuck is that?" He grabbed for it again in a weird attempt to identify it through his classmate's hoodie. With Drew’s hand being dangerously close to a certain body part, Kiran’s eyes widened and he shifted to give a bewildered look to what Drew was grabbing at. The ice pack, clearly. “Oh,” Kiran laughed. He informed the group of the object’s identity, answering their second question before they even asked it. “For my butt.” Autumn immediately went, “Wait, what? Uh, why?” Mason’s brow lifted towards Drew, a smirk on his face. He joked, “Oh, don’t we know.” The group was laughing again. Kiran mumbled, feigning sarcasm, “Oh, I wish that was it,” then regained his composure to spew, “Fuckin’ Godzilla almost ran me over in the hallway on my way up here, and I backed into a door - right up the pooper. I swear I thought I was going to cry.” ‘Godzilla’ being an unfortunate girl the whole school collectively bullied. She stood at a towering height of almost six feet tall. Short, blonde curly hair framed her chubby face. Just about every day, she walked around the school wearing in a long beach dress over her jeans, and flipflops on her bare feet. She spoke with an awful lisp that people would mock every time she spoke, but to be fair, the only things that mouth lisped out were snotty comments and whispered insults.

Despite all that and Kiran’s words, he shared sympathy with her. He donned the personality characteristic known as ‘being a two-face bitch,’ though he would argue the main reason he was nice to her face but a dick behind her back was that, though she was annoying as hell, she still deserved to be treated like a person. Jessy Bowman, the girlfriend who has yet to say a word this morning, finally used her pipes to laugh, and say, “Oooh. At least you lived to tell the tale.” Her boyfriend broke his silence, too, laughing in shock at her saying something out of character. Jessy was a nice, quiet girl, new to the school this year, having moved a few states over, but managed to get herself a boyfriend on this third day here. Normally, she would never bully anyone, but Carmen Adams was an exception. “What?” she laughed back. “She pisses me off. Whenever I raise my hand in History to answer something, she always shouts the answer out. You know Brewer gives you bonus for participating - my grade’s horrible in that class; I have a ‘D’. I need those bonus points so bad. I finally feel like I know something and she takes my moment away. Someone needs to push her down.” The boys of the table were all about to collectively drop their heads and feign loud snoring noises, but cracked up laughing at Jessy’s last comment. But suddenly, laughing was the last thing Kiran wanted to do. All this talk about his ‘accident’ reminded him of how the pain actually came to be. And with the thought of Davide, he remembered the conversation this morning. “If you’re going to act like a little bitch, you wait for me. I’ll pick you up.” “Oh, god,” he groaned into the palms of his hands. “I have detention.” His friend’s all scrunched their noses, ‘ooh’ing at Kiran’s news. Drew asked, “When, today?” Mason added, “What’d you do?” Both questions were answered with Kiran’s next dialog. “Today after school...since I was tardy. Again.” Autumn was voicing her annoyance almost instantly. “I think that’s so stupid. I have to be here every goddamn day until I graduate. School is exhausting. If my parents didn't make me go, trust me. I wouldn't. I deserve a break, not a detention.”

“I know!” Kiran agreed loudly. “It’s not like I chose to ignore my alarm. It didn’t go off. That’s not my fault. I’m tired. Let me sleep.” “We should write a letter,” Mason declared, taking a bite out of his donut hole - which appeared out of fuckin’ nowhere. They all looked at him with puzzled expressions, then the food in his hand. It was like his bookbag magically popped up in his lap. With it already being unzipped, Mason shoved the last bit into his mouth and pulled the large cardboard container out. It’s namebrand ‘Tim Horton’s’ was sprawled across the front of it. “Timmy Ho's?” he offered, plunking the box onto the table. Drew was the first to dive bomb the morsels of grub. “Hell yeah,” he exclaimed, grabbing as many as his big hands could grasp. He plucked one from his grip and began to dance slightly in his seat, singing in toon of an Usher song. “Hell yeah, hell yeah, yeah, yeah..." It was popped into his mouth eagerly. Seeing the broad-shouldered quarterback behaving like a silly, silly goose was quite a sight to his classmates. Laughs erupted around the table, not having the chance to settle down before Drew was being stupid again. Gulping down another donut hole, he paused to look seriously at Kiran. Kiran flung himself back when Drew grabbed him by the face suddenly and rubbed his bearded chin against Kiran’s smooth face. “Ew!” Kiran shouted, repulsed, though he laughed loudly. “Get that thing away from me!” “Never!” Drew laughed out. It wasn’t until now that Kiran’s mind was there to ruin the moment again with another painful reminder of yesterday. Drew had the unfortunate pleasure of resembling someone who plagued Kiran’s memory. Drew was a natural brunette - you could tell that from the scruff of his beard and faint ‘stache - but had dyed his dark hair a dirty blond his freshmen year of high school. With it now being almost three years since the dye job and several months passed the recommended salon visit, the sixteen year old’s roots were in need of a touch-up, allowing his original hair color to stand out against the long strands of blond. His hair ran to his chin, in a Kurt-Cobain-like fashion. While he sat at home, it was down, but whenever he out and about, ever since the first day of seventh grade, he picked up the trending style of the beloved ‘man-bun’. He had his hair up in a now routine bun on the top of his head, the loose strands framed his slender face. His intense light blue eyes shined at Kiran, usually stunning his sought-after partner, but even though they were one of the few dissimilarities between Drew and Miguel, Kiran had to fight with all his might to keep the smile from plummeting off his face.

It did falter fleetingly, Kiran passing it off like it was a fake gesture of annoyance in result of Drew’s antics. Kiran was able to laugh genuinely, leaning forward out of Drew’s hold, “You sure you’re older than me?” His teasing question made Drew’s smile widen. Drew answered back, overdoing his Heath Ledger/Joker impersonation in the process. “Why so serious?” his husky voice asked. Drew tightened his hands around Kiran’s waist. Kiran flicked him on the forehead. “Get off.” Drew laughed, but released his hold on Kiran with much reluctance, although, minutes later, his arms were right back in place. The group never returned back to the conversation about Kiran’s detention, but Kiran’s mind looped back to it without much trouble. Standing in the long lunch line, he knew he had to something to defuse the situation, either just sucking it up and heading to his detention, informing Davide of the event when he got home, or maybe going to have a chitchat with Mrs. Struan at some point today to reschedule the after school meeting. Both of those were more likely to work out than his next thought: calling Davide to explain. He didn’t have the man’s number. How would that work? Kiran ended up making dues to stick with his second plan - going to talk with Mrs. Struan. His thumbs went down the length of the fifty Miguel gave him before he had left. He knew it’d be smarter to save the cash for something more dire, like a plane ticket out of this dump, but his stomach coerced him to focus on silencing the grumbles and gurgles it made. Somehow, despite the horrid events that took place not too long ago that made Kiran sick when thought about - you know, the ones I keep on referring to nonstop - his stomach overtook what went on in his head. He was hungrier now than he’s ever been in his entire life. It was a hunger that tightened and cramped against each intake of breath. The last time he felt like this was after the first week on his own when his prepaid lunch money ran out along with the paycheck from his first job. Without a means of transportation to take him to the familyowned burger joint, which resided two cities over, that paycheck was the last he had gotten. Until now. He could get a juice and chips. A dollar-twenty. He could manage forking that over.

So he did, smiling at the lunch lady when she raised her brows at the fifty dollar bill. “Win the lottery?” she asked him with a joking laugh coming out after. When Kiran chuckled that he had gotten a job, she said, “Oh. Wow. Well, I’m proud of you. I didn’t get my first job til I was eighteen.” Though Kiran gave no fucks, he still laughed, thanking her before grabbing his cashback. He backed out of the line, and, pulling his backpack off to drop his lunch into it, he made a quick pitstop by one of the long rectangular tables, at which sat a few friends who aren’t even secondary characters, so who cares. All but Drew Morgan. That’s an important dude. Kiran didn’t plop down in the seat beside him. He quickly told his amigos he was going to talk to Struan about his detention. The group of four friends nodded and wished him luck. Kiran had to work his way through the crowd that aggregated in the commons, eventually walking through the doors of the main office. There were a few students making conversations about various subjects with the working ladies. Mrs. Struan was the only one conveniently unoccupied. Stopping in front of her desk, he popped a smile at the middle-aged woman. She gave a warm smile right back. “What can I do for you, dear?” Kiran’s hands gripped the corner of the her desk as he leaned forward casually. An anxious smile played out on his face. “So...I’ve got detention after school…?” He made it sound like a question. “Yes,” the woman nodded, laughing lightly. “Did you forget already?” “Oh - no. I, uh, can I get a raincheck on that?” She gave him a look. “Kiran,” she started. “I’ve got work after,” he wedged in before she could use anymore of that tone on him. “I just started yesterday, so I’m not really used to having to go anywhere after school besides home. I forgot. It’s kind of weird.” Mrs. Struan sighed in a way that let Kiran know she was on the edge of persuasion. “You can’t talk with your boss?” she suggested. Kiran shrugged and shook his head at the same time. “I don’t really think he’s much of an understanding guy. Plus, I just started. I don’t think it’d be the best impression if I bailed already.”

“Well, I suppose so, huh?” Mrs. Struan reached for her stack of Post-it notes and poised her pen against the paper. “Thursday?” Kiran felt his back relax and a mental sigh rolled down his body. “Yeah, that works - I hope.” “Talk with your boss,” she told him sternly. “Poor communication could get you fired.” Kiran mumbled ‘I know’s to her, taking the written note from her hands. She copied the reminder onto another slip of paper and tacked it to the corkboard behind her. He thanked her and then he was on his way. The doors let out at 2:35 that afternoon and Kiran sat waiting on one of the benches out front until fifty after. The time when the line of school buses began to pull away from the building. Kiran slumped his chin into his palm and sighed. He could’ve walked to a McDonald’s in Japan, bought a thousand calorie ‘Mega Potato’, and had been back by now. Just as his mouth started to salivate at the thought of Mickey D’s fries, a 1968 Chevrolet Camaro SS rolled onto the scene. Its waxed finish blinded Kiran momentarily. Regaining his sight, he squinted through the windshield to see the man lounging like an O.G. in the driver’s seat. Davide Grieco. Fantastic. Davide didn’t even bother getting out of the car to let Kiran know it truly was him. Kiran saw the driver’s side window roll down, and a hand extended out like it was the Devil there to yank him back to hell. It’s a metaphor, Hazel Grace. Davide’s fingers did the ‘come here’ motion, and Kiran rose from his seat, making his way over to the passenger’s side. Davide popped open the door from the inside, but Kiran just stood there, contemplating whether or not he was stupid enough to get in. He really didn’t want to. He kept getting this nagging feeling that something bad would happen if he did - other than having to go home and ‘work,’ I mean. There something darker in Davide’s mind. Kiran could feel it in his gaze. He made Davide mad this morning. He knew it. He knew he was going to be punished somehow. He feared it’s severity.

Kiran had the urge to run away, but didn’t know what would happen if he tried. He had a tracking device implemented under his skin and there was nowhere he could go; Davide would have no problem finding him, and with Kiran being a streetkid, there were no family members there that would ever bother wondering where he went if he never showed up again. In Kiran’s mind, no one cared; no one was going to be there to save him. It's a shit feeling. “Are you getting in or what?” Davide asked from the driver's seat, slumping back to sit up straight behind the steering wheel. “You don’t have all day. You’ve got someone at four. The longer you make ‘em wait, the more cash you lose - it’d be smart to get in.” He had to meet with someone after school, as soon as he got home, basically. He didn’t even have the time to ‘recover’ from yesterday. He was still in so much pain, mentally, emotionally, physically. His mind and body were exhausted. Kiran looked around for a sign of a superhero, but the carpark was empty; the assistant principal that usually roamed the schoolyard until the buses pulled away wasn’t patrolling anymore. He had the passing suspicion that Davide planned to arrive late enough so that if Kiran did put up a fight, there wouldn't be any witnesses. Sucking in a sharp intake of breath, Kiran warily stepped into the car, shutting the door once inside. He didn’t hook himself into the seat with the safety belt - if a car crash happened, he was ready to die, or if Davide tried something, he was willing to dive right out the window. The engine roared that it was still active as Davide pressed down on the gas pedal. The vehicle drifted slowly from the scene. The drive home seemed to take forever. It was like they had gotten every red light in the city, which Kiran was just fine with, mind you. Anything that could stall him from getting back to the motel, he was up for. Stopping for the fifth red light, Davide’s eyes peeked at Kiran, and when Kiran’s eyes darted down to his own lap, Davide spoke. “Sorry I’m late. I had to go pick up your payment.” Kiran didn’t know if he wanted to ask what his ‘payment’ was. He thought that maybe Davide was being facetious when he said that, and Kiran’s payment was actually an asswhoppin’. The only response Kiran let out was a nod and, “Oh. No, it’s okay." The light changed to green and the car geared a left turn. Davide hitched his thumb towards the back seat. Before the worst case scenario fled Kiran’s mind, Davide was talking again.

“It’s in the back, if you want to grab it - in that bag, the brown one.” Kiran’s eyes shifted from his boss, fleetingly peering into the back seat. Moving in time with the movements of Davide’s driving was a brown paper bag. Oh, god, Kiran thought, jumping to conclusions, It’s a box of condoms. The thought of using them on anyone anytime soon didn’t sit well in the boy’s stomach. Davide added, making another turn, “I, uh, I think you’ll like it.” Kiran stayed silent, reaching back to pluck the ‘gift’ from the leather seat. The paper bag crunched in his hands and crinkled loudly when Davide told him to open it. Seeing the bag's contents, he looked cautiously at Davide. What was inside made Kiran’s head tilt in confusion. Two narrow snack-sized bags rested at the bottom. One bag had a substance Kiran could easily placed as weed; he used to smoke it with his dad every night. And the other, he’s seen it before but didn’t know which substance the powder was before it got pressed into the shape of pills. Four pills of an unknown drug resided in the second baggie, each a different color: one orange, another yellow, green, and the last blue. They had symbols carved into their surface. Hand prints, smiley faces, stars. Hieroglyphics of what type of trip they’d take him on. He was getting drugs. This is what he gets in exchange for the money he earns. The reason he was given the narcotics slipped over Kiran’s head, and instead, he questioned why he would need them; there were many other things he would’ve rather spent that two hundred on. He hasn’t smoked in two years. He didn’t have the need or desire to. The latter was just the same for the pills. Kiran looked to Davide. “What is this?” he asked, tipping his chin down towards the paper bag. “Well, according to all your bitching, apparently letting you live isn't enough for you.” There was a sense of laughter in Davide’s explanation. He went on. “You do a good job each night, bring in enough cash, and I can promise you there's more where that came from. But don't start thinking you're special. I don't do this for free. I took it out of your paycheck.” Just as he had thought, but thinking of his hard-earned money being spent on this...Kiran wasn’t going to use the drugs, anyway. He refused to become like that. He didn’t want to further the cliches that came with the job title. “I don’t do drugs,” Kiran said quietly.

Though that wasn’t the ‘thank you’ Davide expected, he refrained from snapping at the boy. “You do now,” he said back shrewdly. “From what I’ve heard, you’re going to want to.” The sad truth sent a tense wave into the air. Kiran turned his head to look out the window. The pair were silent for only a few seconds. Davide sighed and tried to keep the frustration out of his words. “Really?” he chuckled. “No ‘thank you’? I didn’t have to do that, you know. I don’t have to do anything for you. You piss me off. A lot. I don’t usually do these types of things for people who won’t respect me. Do you respect me?” ‘Feared’ was more like it. The was evident as Kiran quickly nodded. “Yes,” he whispered. He looked into the bag again, then at Davide. “Thank you.” Davide looked at him expectantly. His brow told Kiran there was something he forgot to add on. Davide repeated, “Thank you…?” He was waiting. Kiran didn’t know what for. His eyes shifted in a puzzled fashion and he felt his heart rate jump at the notion that he was disrespecting Davide again. Then it clicked. His jaw tensed. He cleared his throat to speak. “Thank you,” he said one more time, then tacked on, “Sir.” He hoped that was what Davide wanted. It was line he had seen many times in movies, a line he’s had to say to his previous boss, to his teachers. A title of authority. One that made Davide’s eyes light up, and he smirked. “Now that’s better.” The car slowed to a stop and Kiran looked up to see they were in the parkinglot of the motel. The engine shut off, but neither of them moved to get out. “See the pills?” Davide said, referring to the ones in the bag. “Take one. I want you to be ready. Get out.” Kiran was seconds away from hopping out when Davide called him back. “Wait - are you in any sports or anything like that?” “Just P.E,” Kiran shrugged. “Why?” “If I got you a gym membership, would you use it? I mean, no offense, but you've obviously been out here for....however long; the only times you probably eat are at school, and you only got gym class fifty minutes a day, right? I doubt you've got much going on under those clothes” Kiran felt his chest tense like it was ashamed. Davide went on to give him a backhanded compliment. “You've got quite the face, but we

need more sex appeal here. Trust me. The better you look, the more cash you bring in, which in turn gets you better drugs.” And apparently drugs were going to become a must in Kiran’s life. Maybe if Kiran got swole, he’d be able to defend himself in a way he was sub-par at before. Not seeing any harm in the offer, Kiran accepted. “Good,” Davide nodded to himself. He made a comment about taking Kiran to the Free Clinic at the end of each week to have him checked for STDs. He leaned over Kiran to push open the door, saying on the way back, “Alright. Get out. Make sure you take one of those pills - save the weed for later. You can have some but not too much. You’ll want it more in a few hours. I'm sure you can find some type of can to smoke it out of.” It would take about thirty to forty minutes for the ecstasy to kick in, an hour to an hour and a half for the high to reach it’s max. If Kiran waited to smoke til the peak of the trip, it’d create a more powerful high, just in time for his four o’clock, making it a hell of a lot easier to get through the meeting. Then, if things go as planned, in about two hours, the effects of the MDMA will still be prevalent and will make Davide’s plans work out even better. It’s called the ‘hug drug’ for a reason. He needed Kiran willing to make nice with complete strangers. Even if he didn't succumb to the 'happy-go-lucky' feel, the voices on the other end of that phone call would still happily follow through with the plan. The drug's real name was still unknown to Kiran. He attempted to identify the substance after he threw his ice pack into the fridge and popped a squat on the couch. He had the faintest idea that it could be ecstasy, maybe some type of LSD. He didn’t know. The health class he took last year and the drug course he had to sit through was all for nothing. Percocet…? He did a presentation on it, but couldn’t remember anything about it. Davide had said Kiran would have his second client today at four. He had less than forty-five minutes until then. These would definitely help him out. Praying that would be the case, he shook the baggie over his palm and used his finger to poke a random one out. The blue pill with a smiley face stamped on its profile. How to ingest the pill seemed pretty straightforward, and after a moment of hesitation, Kiran popped it into his mouth. Then dumbly decided to chew, knowing right away how stupid of a decision that was. It was chalky and bitter. Kiran groaned a whimper out and jumped up from the couch to dart into the kitchen. Bypassing the cupboards for a glass, he bent to take a gulp of the water that ran from the faucet.

He thought about splitting the watery-chewed-up drug out of his mouth, but something dawned on him to just swallow. Kiran stood in the middle of the tiny kitchen and grimaced as he took his jolly ol’ time gulping it down. The taste still hung around in his mouth thanks to his genius idea to chew. Pieces of the drug stuck in his molers. His tongue failed to rubbed them free. (Weird sentence, I know.) Kiran turned for his fridge, in hopes of finding a bottle of something to drink. There were about three half-empty bottles of water and a couple cans of beer. He was not willingly to go anywhere near either of those. However, he snatched a beer from the fridge anyway, figuring it's empty can could be of use. He shut the fridge’s door and whimpered when the taste made itself known again. Becoming desperate, he went for his bag for a drink he had bought himself while at school. Feeling like a million bucks, Kiran bought an overpriced Propel from the vending machine in the commons after chatting with Mrs. Struan. He let his bag fall to the floor and twisted the cap eagerly. He downed about half the bottle in ten seconds. The taste had started to go away. He relaxed and fell down onto the couch with a sigh. Within thirty minutes a smile had planted itself onto his face. The mixture of drugs were finally starting to take effect, starting out with a feeling of exhilaration as the serotonin pumped through his veins. The happiness only hung around for a few minutes, then Kiran’s stomach started to churn. He felt sick, nauseous. His head spun momentarily and he began to panic at all the ideas of what he had gotten himself into. Maybe he took the pill wrong. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to chew it at all. His heart rate relaxed when the anxiety died down, taking the nausea away with it. He felt serene again. This cycle continued, ebbing back and forth between contentedness and a mild panic. The rate at which he yo-yoed between emotions was intense, and became even stronger when he crushed a pinch of weed into one of the empty beer cans and inhaled the smoke. The panic went up several notches when a few knocks hit the door. He stared at it a little longer than he had meant to. The visitor knocking again made him get up and go over to answer it. Staring through the peephole, he was shocked to see someone he recognized. He figured he would have someone he had never met before, but Miguel Ramirez pushed a tight smile at the teen when the door was slowly, but surely opened fully. “Miss me?” the man asked him, a smirk forming over his mouth.

“Not really.” Miguel chuckled at Kiran’s answer. He was already putting his focus on the bed. “Well, I missed you,” he said, leering back Kiran. “Can I come in?” All Kiran could think about was what would happen when he let Miguel in and shut the door behind him. He feared what was going to happen when they were alone. He already experienced what the man had to offer, the brute strength he used to get what he wanted, and how effortlessly he took Kiran’s virginity from him. How easy it was for him to block out the boy’s cries and screams. The sight of Kiran’s tear-strung face made him thrust his hips harder and the moans felt so much better to get out. Miguel wanted that again and again. It was the reason he was always the first to volunteer for meeting the new recruits. He loved that power. Last night, before he left Kiran’s room, he gave into a moment of weakness. He let that quivering lip and those hollow eyes taint how he felt. For a split second, his pride was gone. He had to prove himself again. When Kiran nodded and moved to let Migue come in, Miguel waited for Kiran to shut the door before gripping him roughly by the wrist. He wanted to see tears, and by being rough, he knew he'd get them out. Letting out a grunt of shock, Kiran was yanked to Miguel’s chest and was kept in place with Miguel’s hand at his throat. Kiran groaned groggily in disgust at Miguel's breath hitting his neck, and his head tipped away, his eyes squeezing shut when the scruff of Miguel’s mustache pushed against his skin. His tongue flicked hungrily down the length of his throat as he pulled the boy forcefully towards the bed. Kiran crying out again fueled his ramage and drove him to be even more violent with every one of his actions. Now that he had something to prove to himself, Miguel was much more forceful than the first time. He scratched and prodded at Kiran’s skin, marking him as his. He hit and smacked harder, and pulled at Kiran’s hair the entire time. The drugs Kiran took weren’t enough to keep his mood elevated throughout anything Miguel could throw at him or put him through. Ecstasy is renowned for heightening the sense of touch, taste, and smell. Being high was the worst thing for him right now. He took the pills with the thought that they’d help him forget. He was going to remember this. It’d stick like glue until the day he’d die. -

Another two-fifty was handed into Kiran’s possession. Miguel mumbled that Davide wanted to see Kiran ASAP. He was going to be sent on another job. Without an answer, Miguel left the room, and Kiran curled up under the blankets and cried. It only took him about ten minutes to sob until he felt extremely exhausted. He knew keeping his boss waiting was going to be a big mistake; Davide probably saw Miguel leave, anyway. Kiran hauled himself up from the bed, and stood there with a scowl on his face. A sharp agonizing pain shot up his spine and the entire lower half of him strained against any movement he tried to do. With his head falling into the palms of his hands, he breathed deeply, waiting for the pain in his rear to subside. He postponed his meeting with Davide for five more minutes. He grabbed the ice pack from the fridge and sat on the couch with it underneath him. Groaning, he took a few puffs of smoke from the nowcharred filled beer can, welcoming the disintegrated weed into his system. Before he stepped foot out the doorway, he pushed another ecstasy pill into his mouth, this time letting it dissolve. As he was shutting his door, he looked to his right when the sound of laughter echoed into his ears. It sounded distant - and foreign to Kiran. How someone could ever feel happiness here was beyond him. He glanced towards the direction the laughter came from. Standing outside one of the rooms, in the complex next to his, was a young boy, probably a few years younger than Kiran; he stood in the doorway, and was giggling and smiling up at the man standing in front of him. The man seemed to be in his early thirties. He looked of Mexican descent, most likely an Arizonian. He was tanned rather nicely. He had dark, almost-black hair and a matching mustache. What’s with all these ‘staches, amiright? He stood with his body turned towards the teen in front of him, his thumbs hooking around two belt loops. They unlatched when the boy’s fingers slipped over his shoulder and pulled him in the direction of his room. They laughed to each other again before disappearing from Kiran’s view. He looked like he could’ve been his dad, and they were about to go have sex with each other? Right as Kiran thought that and had his back turned toward the duo, the feeling of being watched registered to the man, and he was left to stare at Kiran’s back as he took his walk down the iron staircase. The only thought that entered his mind was the desire to see what Kiran looked like under those clothes.

♠♠♠

chapter three.

---The door chimed when Kiran pulled it open and stepped foot into the main office. At the front desk sat McKenzie. She looked up from her doodles to smile at him, telling him of Davide’s wish to meet with him. As Kiran made ways towards the closed door, McKenzie’s mouth frowned at his walk. He walked with even more of a limp than he did last night. She didn’t even want to think about the pain he must have been in. Pushing her own flashbacks of her first few days here out of her thoughts, she told Kiran to go on in to see Davide - “He’s waiting.” Kiran still knocked before he was told to come in, and walking into the room, he thought he’d see Davide furiously typing away on his computer, or taking calls on the phone, or maybe even having a chat with a future client in front of him or another worker - you know, things that you see managers or owners of an establishment doing. No. Davide sat back in his cushioned swivel chair with his feet propped up on his desk, on top of layers of papers and magazines. In one of his hands was a fork and in the other a medium sized carton of Chinese take-out. A piece of General Tso's chicken was poked onto the fork's prong, mid-way to Davide’s mouth, levitating in the air as his eyes fixed on the flat screen television that was plastered to the wall adjacent him. Chewing, his eyes flicked up to Kiran. “Finally,” was the first word out of his mouth. He retracted his feet to the ground, setting the carton of food onto his desk. He gestured to the chair on the other side as he sat up straight. “You can sit if you

want, but it’d be kind of pointless. I have a job for you,” he informed, his smile making Kiran’s nose crinkle in uneasiness. “A promotion, if you will.” He could go up from here? Richer clients? Or at least ones who were considerate of how he felt? Whatta dream come true, his thoughts sneered. “What,” Kiran began with a faint laugh, “Am I going to make house-calls now?” He felt his stomach wrench when Davide laughed. “Oh, so close. No - what I want you to do is…” Davide had stood and was fiddling around in the drawers of his desk, taking another bite of his food once he found what he was looking for. A sports wristband that you typically see basketball players wearing. It was a bright fluorescent green with a white outline of a moon stitched onto its surface. “Put this on,” he was told, taking it cautiously into his hands when Davide handed it over the desk. "Finally getting my uniform?" he asked, peering from it to his boss. He tensed as Davide made his way to the other side of the desk. Davide confirmed, “Finally getting your uniform. What I need you to do is take yourself on a walk, thumb out like a hitchhiker.” He stood directly in front of Kiran. Kiran avoided eye contact, suddenly taking interest in the wristband. His eyes widen, feeling Davide’s fingers pushed against his chin. He laced them through his dark head of hair. Kiran was forced to keep eye contact each time Davide nudged the side of his face roughly. He had to fight to refrain from yanking his face out of Davide’s grip. He still recoiled away slightly at Davide’s fingers caressing over his lips. Davide continued with his instructions. “Smile,” he said. “I don’t care if it kills you; you’ll smile. If they invite you in, you’ll get in. And don’t even think of coming back if you make less than five hundred.” Less than five hundred…? Even Davide knew that was quite the request. Shrugging, he addressed it out loud. “Okay, three hundred, but that’s the lowest I'm willing to drop it.” He knew there was no reason to lower the amount he expected Kiran to bring in. Barely even a reason to set one. To make it seem more legit, I guess? It’d be nice if Kiran managed to hook up with some other customers, but with that was most likely not being the true aim of the boy’s desires, Davide’s call from earlier and the thousand bucks he exchanged to get an ’Eh, alright,’ from the head honcho already told him it didn’t matter what other levels of hell Kiran would have to fight through tonight. One encounter was set in stone. Everything else was filler.

Still - it would be great if he could make at least half that thousand back within the same night. Watching Kiran slip the cotton band over his fist, Davide chuckled gravely. “If you see any cops, throw that fucking thing in the river. If they can trace you back to me...not a good scenario.” “Got it.” “And I want that off.” Kiran’s hands flattened against his chest. “My shirt?” “Make it fast. You’re losing time to work.” Fingers gripping around the bottom of his shirt, Kiran hesitated, becoming anxious. A deep breath and then he lifted it overhead, immediately clutching the clump of fabric to his bare chest. Ignoring the faint patches of slowly forming bruises from Miguel’s assaults, Davide shifted to flick the bit of Kiran’s shirt that wasn’t balled under his fist. His eyes trailed over Kiran’s skin. His stomach wasn’t engulfed with a six pack but it wasn’t an eyesore. Not getting the recommended three square meals a day did do a number on its appearance and you could faintly make out the outlines of Kiran’s ribs, but overall, he looked mildly - oh-so-mildly - fit. Davide could assume that he somewhat took gym class for what it was worth. “Not too bad,” he commented, clicking his tongue. “Thought you said you didn’t work out.” Moving Kiran’s hands down, he saw there was the slight indication of pecs beginning to form. Kiran quickly drew the shirt back in place. “The school has a weight room,” he mumbled, feeling his skin prickle under Davide’s eyes. “It’s not like I have internet or cable. I gotta do something.” “So you lied to me earlier?” “No. You asked if I was in any sports. I’m not.” “But do you know what you are now?” Davide asked. He was feeling witty. His brows furrowing, Kiran looked up at him cautiously. “Maybe. I don’t know. What?” A smile cracked over Davide’s face. “You're officially a streetwalker.” -

Kiran’s weary eyes followed Davide’s index finger as it pointed down the length of the block. “Just keep going straight until you get to the fork - that’s when the corn fields start and you’d be heading to Piqua. Don’t go to Piqua. Turn right just before that and keep walking until you get to UDF, then right again, and you’ll see the cemetery. Another right and you’ll be back here, but don’t come back here. Keep walking the same route, walk until you’ve made me some money. I don’t care how long it takes.” The empty stare Kiran gave to the small gas station across the street made Davide sigh. He did his infamous grab for Kiran’s chin, forcing him to look him in the eye. “Got it? ‘Cause I’m not going to repeat myself for you.” He’s such a dick. Just shut...up. There was something about the way Davide spoke that pissed Kiran off well, that and the fact that he did indeed pick him up off the street and threw him right into the human trafficking trade. Davide spoke with authority, sure, but there was so much arrogance. Probably since he knew no one would try to cross him. *sigh* except dumbass over here. “I’m listening,” Kiran blurted, his feathers clearly already ruffled. “I heard you.” The underlying hint of an attitude in Kiran’s answer, though he didn’t mean for it to leave his mind, was picked up on by Davide, and his thumb pressed hard against Kiran’s chin. His hand was suddenly raised. Kiran squeezed his eyes shut, sinking a few inches back, bracing himself for a slap to the face. Instead of the smack landing against his cheek, he was shoved on the shoulder, hard, being knocked back a couple feet. It wasn’t enough to hurt him, but enough to stun him. Peering fearfully over his shoulder back at Davide, he saw the man’s jaw was clenched. “We’re back at five hundred,” he scolded. “Good job. Go.” One more shove to send Kiran on his way. With his back turned to his boss, Kiran ran his fingers anxiously over his collar bones, reminding himself that his skin was exposed. Crossing his arms, he slowly set his walk to take him as far away as he could get from his new home as they’d allow. They took him down to the end of the block, and turning the corner, he had the fleeting thought to just run and never come back. But that stupid microchip. His brows creased in disdain.

“I fucking hate my life,” he mumbled exasperated as his feet came to stop at the edge of the curb. Despite knowing he was told to take another right, he stared at the empty street, waiting for the crosswalk light to change from a red palm to a stick figure. There were very few cars out on the street, even though it was around five. How was he expected to make any money when no one was out to give it to him? He knew the lack of cars was due to him trolling the side streets, instead of the main, but still. What the heck? As much as he liked the idea of avoiding as many people as he could, he needed money. A lot of it. But oh lawdy, he didn’t know if he could handle being harassed again. This could be the rest of his life. This. Twenty-four-seven, three-sixty-five until the day he died? Really? What the hell happened? What went so wrong in the past couple of days that set this as his destiny? He had been raped twice by the same man and given drugs to help cope. Now he was expected to hop into the back of just anyone's car and let them have their way with him, too., and then the same for the next person, and again and again. Where did he go wrong? The light changed to red and the little white outline of a man appeared. Kiran’s feet took him to the other side of the rode. He got halfway down the block before he heard the faint sound he recognized as a car engine. Darting a look over his shoulder, he saw two headlights growing bigger and brighter as the pickup truck crossed the intersection Kiran just walked through moments earlier. Deciding it was now or never, and figuring if anyone would be cruising along in a pickup truck, they were most likely a sexually frustrated male, Kiran hitched his thumb out….for nothing. The vehicle didn’t even give the slightest indication that it was going to stop for him. Kiran lowered his thumb, along with his hopes, as the truck sped on by. Well, he sighed, can't say I didn’t try. Just then, as quickly as the automobile went by, it came to a screeching hault. It’s taillights shined a deep red as the driver backed up. Kiran slowed his walk, right as the truck stopped about ten feet ahead of him. Oh, great. My prayers have been answered. With a sigh, Kiran felt his back pocket to check that the condom Davide made him go run up to his room to get was still there. The circular outline said ‘yup’.

After one more pep talk, Kiran came around to the passenger side as the driver rolled down the window. Fixing on one fake ass smile, Kiran leaned down to meet eyes with the stranger, his smile faltering at the owner of the vehicle. Sitting behind the wheel was a not what he expected. At least not the gender. A woman who looked to be in her late thirties lounged in the torn-up faux-pleather seat. She was a scrawny thing, her dark hair up in a messy bun with tanned skin and freckles on her aging face. She had leaned towards the passenger side to make eye contact with Kiran, brow raising at his falling smile. “You need a ride, honey?” she asked him sweetly, genuinely. She had that mothering, concerned tone. Kiran could tell from the look on her face that she was a bit apprehensive about stopping for a stranger, and he brought back his smile, making it a bit softer than before. “Oh,” he said breathlessly, his heart rate returning back to somewhat normal. “No, I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else. My brother has the same truck. Sorry for bothering you.” Kiran began to back away, reassuring the woman that he was fine when she asked if he was going to be okay on his own. “You know where you are?” “Yeah. I live around here.” “Are you sure you’re okay?” “Great.” “Well - okay.” “Wait!” Kiran’s hands gripped the glasspane of the half-rolled down window. An anxious chuckle as he proposed, “I mean, unless you’ve got some money to spare…or are feeling a little lonely...” She nearly rolled the window up on his head. Kiran had to jump back as she jammed her foot onto the gas, and the truck sped off. A moment of reflection as he realized just how creepy he sounded. Awesome. He knew his best bet on actually getting his job done tonight was if he found a man - an at least bi-curious one at that. He wondered for the first time of what would happen if he came across the wrong type of person. We got 'not interested female' out of the way, and she just sped off, but what about 'rapist'? Though, arguably, anyone who agreed to share a bed with a fifteen year old was, by law, a rapist, what about someone who refused take his 'no' as a valid answer?

He's seen Criminal Minds. There have been more than a few episodes where streetwalkers were picked out and murdered - brutally and typically in humiliating ways. No thanks. Or what about 'homophobic aggressive fe/male'? The last homophobic pair he dealt with kicked him out of his home when he was thirteen. What if the next homophobe he encountered thinks they can 'beat him straight'? At that thought, a chill creeped up Kiran's neck and he shivered against the cool October air. Staring up at the sky, he saw the sun was setting, the time of year meaning it was getting darker earlier than usual. With the darkness of night came the drop of temperature. He really didn’t want to be out all night, especially when he had a warm bed to sleep in. Making a true effort, Kiran attempted to flag down a ride just a few more times, coming up empty each time. Two of the three times, neither vehicle bothered to stop for him, and the last one was a family of five, whose persistent offers he declined. When all hope was starting to seem lost, he found himself back on the track Davide told him to stick to. He was back near that turn just before the fork in the rode that would apparently take him to the neighboring city. One great thing about being back up here was that the block over was the stripmall, and in the alleyway next to the Main Street Market was where Kiran had been sleeping for the past few months. He had clothes there, blankets, trinkets, and such. He didn’t have to think twice. He jaywalked across the slightly busy street, booting it to the other side before the bright headlights beaming down the right lane made him see ‘the light.’ However, while that car went on down the street without the faintest interest in the shirtless teen, his florescent wristband caught the attention of a parked ‘99 Dodge Durango. It’s lights were off, though it harbored passengers. That paired with the automobile’s black paint job made it virtually invisible. The three men exchanged looks of relief as the driver said, “About fucking time.” They had grown very impatient, having been waiting twenty minutes for the young man to come into their view. The driver checked Kiran’s appearance with the little Post-it note he scribbled Davide’s description down on. Finding it was a match - the fluorescent wristband was the big sellpoint - he shifted to turn the engine over and flicked the headlights on.

“Bets on where he’s going?” he asked the two men as he pulled away from the curb. They all kept their eyes on the Kiran’s bare back, watching him hightail it down the sidewalk. The ginger haired man who sat in the back suggested, “The school? They keep the weight room open, don’t they?” “This late?” The driver shook his bald head in uncertainty. “Griec said he used to sleep in the alley, over by Marsh’s. That’s where they met. He could be going back.” Shrugs let Blondie know he made a good suggestion. “Marsh’s it is.” Kiran only found it a bit concerning that this was the second time he saw the black SUV go by him. He tried not to worry himself over it and continued to head towards the alleyway. But the third time it happened, he made himself accept that it wasn’t a coincidence. Maybe they were customers, unsure of how to initiate a session? He was told to wear the wristband for a reason. That’s probably how Davide let people know who his workers were. Dreading their encounter, he waited for them to pull up beside him and roll down the window, but they didn’t. The vehicle continued on down the street and took another left for the fourth time. Kiran was left alone once more and the thought of them coming back, which he knew was very likely, caused him to walk faster. He made it to the alley and was pleased to see that while the garbage truck did make its rounds this morning, like usual, his blankets and pillows were still in the same place he left them. The pizzas, however, were gone. Once again, Kiran muttered under his breath, “I fucking hate my life.” Bending down, he lifted the comforter to find the pillowcase filled with scraps of his clothing. He felt relieved but exhausted. Everytime he was around here, he was either working on homework or passing the time by sleeping. The familiar setting was affecting his mind with grogginess. Just as he was about to sit down and relax for a few minutes, a long, low whistle broke into his ears. His heart leapt in fear, his eyes squinting to look passed the bright headlights of an unfamiliar vehicle.

It was the black car from before, and it was pulling into the alley. Stupidly, Kiran took a step off to the side, hoping they came down this alleyway just to pass through and not try trade his body for money. Instead of driving straight on passed him, the car slowed to a stop and the driver’s side window rolled down. Kiran took another cautious step back. A feeling of unease rippled through his stomach and caused his heart to skip a beat. He only saw the two men sitting up front - Baldie and Blondie. The thought of being tag-teamed wasn’t all that appealing, and by the look of their stone-cold faces and buff body builds, he knew they wouldn’t be gentle. Baldie brought a smirk onto his face. “How much for an hour?” Kiran’s skin prickled and his brows furrowed. “What?” he asked, his voice cracking. He knew what he was asking, but there was a part of his mind that refused to accept what they wanted. Chuckles arose from the two men as they exchanged looks of amusement. Kiran’s throat went dry hearing another set of laughter, and he stared at the backseat’s tinted window. Almost instantly, the gingered hair man sensed it was time for his introduction, and he put the window down to smirk at Kiran’s wide eyes. “Oh,” the man’s gravely voice peaked. “You want me, baby?” Their laughs were rolling again. His stomach sank and he was beginning to feel sick. “You one of Davide’s boys?” Kiran looked from Baldie to where his eyes were pointing. The wristband. The trademark that let people know he was now a hooker. Kiran’s eyes scanned the three faces situated inside the vehicle. The fleeting thought to say no and sprint away wasn’t very fleeting. It twisted into his gut and sent a chill down his spine. “Maybe,” he said timidly. “How much for an hour?” he was asked again. 'How much money was he willing to rent his body out for?' Funny how willing Kiran was to do just that, not even half an hour ago, but now that the time had finally come, and he was standing face-to-face with potential customers, he’d rather die than get in that car.

Three, he thought in disgust. I’d have to sleep with all three of them? At the same time? If that’s what was going to happen, it’d take all the money in the world. He knew that wouldn’t fly, but he did know he’d eventually have to swallow his pride. He had to let them get with him. He needed that money. Three men, three strangers, clearly out looking for someone to gangbang. How much would they be willing to pay? Trying to keep the shakiness out of his voice, Kiran peered into the vehicle and asked as cunningly as he could, “How much you got?” The sound of chuckling came again and Baldie looked amongst his fellow co-workers. They withdrew their wallets in unison, flicking out bills. The blond announced, “I’ve got a hundred.” “Fifty,” a voice from the back said out loud. The driver pulled a few bills from his wallet. “And I’ve got about two hundred.” Well, shit. Who carries that much on them? It’s like they planned to go hooker shopping. He hit the nail on the head. Doing the mental math, Kiran said the sum out loud. “Three-fifty?” His tone didn’t sound promising to the men. Any other time, Kiran would’ve been a kid on crack, but he needed more. They would most likely be all the action he’d let himself get tonight. He wouldn’t have the time or will to go hunt for more. “What?” the driver said tauntingly. “Is that not enough for you, whore?” Kiran was taken back. A frown took over his lips. He called me a whore, he thought in disbelief. I am not a whore...yet. “Yeah,” Kiran said aloud, taking his poise back. “I guess that’s not enough for this whore. I’ve got a quota to meet. Sorry.” He was under the ring leader’s intense, unnerving stare, but Kiran didn’t let it show on his face that his mind was terrified. The man’s lifeless stare was etched into Kiran’s brain. They held the staredown for several seconds, then the man pulled his eyes away to sigh at his passengers. “That was all I had,” he said to them. “Vic,” - he was speaking to the blond, then the man in the back seat - “Alec, I know you have more. Fifty?” he said with a laugh. “That’s really all you had?”

“It’s my money!” the so-called Alec snapped. Suddenly, Kiran could only hear murmurs. Incomprehensible whispers. He couldn't decipher their hushed conversation. “It doesn’t matter!” the driver growled back exasperated. “He’s not keeping it. You’re getting it back, dumbass.” The second they were done with what Davide wanted them to do, they could easily take their money back from Kiran’s unconscious body. They were digging around their pockets again. Alec changed his dollar amount. "Alright. Another fifty. That's it." "Same here." Vic was waving another fifty dollar bill in front of him. "Now we're at four-fifty." Pausing after he rounded up the cash into one pile, he looked up at Kiran. "Is that enough?" Kiran wondered just how much he could weasel out of them, but decided only being fifty bucks away from what Davide wanted from him, that was going to have to do. He did have that extra fifty Miguel decided to give him again before he left today’s session. The still nameless driver held the stack of money out of the window, retracting it ever-so-slowly as Kiran came closer, like the cash was bait and he was the poor defenseless, starving bluegill. He was as close as he could get, with the only thing between him and the three men being the exterior of the car. Kiran looked around at his new costumers and reached for the money. His thumb and index finger bit down on it, but the man didn’t let it out of his grip. “Promise you’ll get in?” he asked, voice dark and ominous. Kiran’s eyes flicked up, daring to meet that threatening gaze. He forced a stiff nod. “I promise.” The money was released and Kiran held it in his hands like it was a newborn child. Shame he wasn’t going to be able to keep it all for himself. He casually lifted his foot to slip the cash into his sock.

His heartbeat hitched as the redhead opened his door, but Kiran wasn’t invited in just yet. The man got out of the vehicle, and Kiran took another cautious step back. His heart was beating so hard and fast, his fingers were trembling and his entire body was quivering. He was left to give a confused stare as Alec seemed to ignore him and went around to the back of the SUV. He popped open the rear doors and stood off to the side. He snapped his fingers at Kiran. “Well, let’s go.” It dawned on our puzzled Kiran that they must have set up a little bed-type area in the back of the Durango. He’d be lying in that bed, naked, with these three strangers all trying to violate him at the same time. Suddenly, the four-fifty was nowhere near enough. He wouldn’t even do his homework for that. Attempting to avoid any more eye contact, Kiran prayed that ecstasy pill would kick in sooner rather than later. He kept his eyes to the ground and hesitantly came to stand over by the ginger haired man, his eyes immediately burning at what they had prepared for him. They did indeed make it into a bed. Kiran could tell there had originally been two rows of seats in the back, but the second row had been ripped out, and in its place were sheets of blankets and a couple pillows. A pack of condoms poked out from the underside of one of the pillows. Bottles of empty beer cans littered the floor, as well as other pieces of trash. It was like they basically lived in here. Kiran tensed when a strong set of hands gripped him at his waist and he was yanked back to collide hard against Alec’s chest. Within seconds, Alec was chuckling, his chapped lips pressing against Kiran’s ear. “Oh, god,” he groaned in ecstasy. His hand tightened around Kiran’s throat. “I’m gonna fuck you,” he spoke over Kiran’s fearful whimper. “Over and over again. You’ll be begging me to stop.” Alec’s hand forcefully slipped up and down the length of Kiran’s inner thigh before he let of another groan, the excitement becoming too much for him. Unable to hold back anymore, he let go of Kiran, only to push him forward and watch him stumble to land half-inside the bed of the vehicle. They were going to be violent. Kiran realized that with no problem. It didn’t matter if he gave in or not; there was no way any of them - or at least no way Alec - would be even slightly nice. He could cooperate, and they would still use force. It’s what they promised, after all. The impact of the fall caused Kiran’s head to spin. His vision twisted and his breath caught in his throat when something was suddenly tightening around his neck again. Alec still stood, smirking, outside the vehicle. He was no where near Kiran’s neck.

Desperate to breathe and desperate to know what the fuck was trying to choke him out, he clawed at his skin, failing to grasp the leather belt that had magically wrapped itself around his throat. Kiran’s fingers dug and managed to get themselves trapped between the strap of leather and his neck. The belt looped through the buckle and was jerked back. Kiran’s neck had no choice but to follow the movement. He was staring up into a pair of dark, charcoal eyes. The blond haired man was leaning over the edge of the backseat, holding on tight to ends of the belt. His teeth were gritted and sharp intakes of breath fled in through the crevices as the excitement of the situationed began to affect him in the same way if affected Alec. His breathing was fast and irregular, and Kiran groaned, feeling it huff down his cheek. The belt tightened and almost made him gag. He cried out loudly, and that’s when the driver finally cut in. “Alright - Jesus, Vic, you’re gonna kill him!” Vic loosened his hold momentarily, just as Alec hopped into the back where Kiran laid, struggling for a breath. He wasted no time hurling his fist into Kiran’s gut, and then another blow was sent to his jaw. A pressure was building in Kiran’s throat and tears were welling up in his eyes. He felt like he was going to puke. The hits just kept coming and the belt continued to tighten around his throat. He thought he was going to pass out, and the pain and reality of the situation pushed him over the edge as he began to cry. They mocked his sobs, even the driver. He suddenly joined them in the backseat after hopping out and closing the rear doors behind him. Letting Alec land another jab into Kiran’s lower stomach, he stepped in to grip Kiran by a tuff of his hair. “You gonna cry?” he said, teeth gritting. “You gonna cry like a little baby?” Kiran was losing the strength to stay conscious, the lack of oxygen starting to take affect. All his brain could coherently get him to do was sob and gasp out, “Please - I can’t breathe.” The tears flowing down his cheeks pushed a wave of excitement through the bald-headed man. He rocked back onto the heels of his feet, cocking his fist back. It drilled it right against Kiran’s temple. “Huh?” he mocked. Another hit socked him in his nose; he could taste blood in his mouth - his blood. Bringing his fist back again, the man shook his hand a few times to loosen it, and spoke on behalf of himself and Davide.

“You see what happens when you don’t listen?” He pushed Vic on the shoulder, telling him to let go of the belt. Kiran’s body fell down the floor when Alec was also told to hold off. He had almost forgotten how to breathe, but the air found it’s way into his lungs with ease but burned on the way into his nose. Kiran didn’t even have to open his swollen, aching eyes to know what was to come next. He heard jeans unzip. All he could manage was a whimper. “Huh?” the man said again, louder this time. He kicked the bottom of Kiran’s shoe. “You hear me, fag? Or am I going to have to make you listen?” “Please,” he whispered. He tossed his head side to side. “I can’t - I can’t do this anymore. I’m so tired.” “Hold his arms.” A sob broke out of Kiran’s mouth when two sets of hands grabbed him by the wrist. Alec pinned his hand down against the pillow. Vic held it up towards him. He didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want to see how they stared down at his limp body. He didn’t want to know. The sheets shifted as the man kneel next to his head. “Open your mouth.” A long whine followed by a tearful, “No - please. God, please..” He was hit in the jaw. “Open, now.” Kiran’s head was tipped to the side, his bruising jaw caused his mouth to hang open. The opportunity was seized. Feeling it touch the back of his throat, he gagged, and cried when the deed was finally done and he was expected to swallow. They all three took turns emptying themselves into his mouth, then finished their assaults with the ultimate form of humiliation they could think of. At last, the box of condoms were put to use. Leaning back to rest on his knees, the man pulled Kiran's shoe from his foot. Since the teen had passed out at some point due to the pain, he wasn’t able to put up a fight. The four-fifty was near the toe of his sock.

After flicking his two hundred from the bunch, the man handed the remaining wad of cash to Alec. “I got mine. You can take what's yours. Get him dressed and we’ll get out of here.” He hopped over the back seat to take his rightful spot behind the steering wheel, leaving his two counterparts to fight over the cash. Deciding to split it evenly, they moved on to collectively throwing the boy’s clothes back on his body. The car was started and they drifted themselves back to the motel, parking in the spot nearest the front desk. Receiving a text from the contact marked ‘Don,’ Davide rose up from behind his desk, and came to meet with the three men out front, absentmindedly passing by McKenzie as she doodled at the check-in counter. She was already staring out the glass panes at the black SUV, getting an ominous feeling from its presence. Her eyes trailed behind Davide as he stood waiting for the trio to get out of the vehicle. Don was first; he came around to open the rear doors. McKenzie leaned forward to get a better look at what was going on, her brows causing a crease on her forehead when Vic and Alec emerged from the back seat, bringing out something with them. She squinted and then her eyes widened once she was able to make out what looked to her like arms. Vic’s hands gripped under the shoulders. Alec had him by the ankles. Davide’s finger gestured for them to take whatever - whoever - it was upstairs, and as they passed under one of the lights, McKenzie’s hand clapped over her mouth as she lost her breath in a gasp. “Oh...god...” It clicked in her brain that the limp, unresponsive figure they towed towards the staircase was the young boy she hasn’t seen since late last night. Though his face was coated with drying blood and blotches of bruises, she knew his features right away, having fantasized about them all night. Davide came back into the main office, stopping to lean his elbow on the edge of the counter. He smirked at McKenzie’s pale face. “And that, my dear,” he began with a chilling tone to his words, “is what happens when you don’t listen to me.” She asked him quietly, “Was that…? That wasn’t…” “Kiran? Yup. He’s a piece of shit.” A knot formed in the pit of her stomach. “Is he going to be okay?”

“He’s lucky I didn’t let them kill him,” Davide grumbled as his answer. “All I’ve done for him, and he wants to talk to me like that. I could’ve killed him. I should’ve.” A thought popped into Davide’s head and he was smirking back at McKenzie again. “Why do you care?” he asked her grinning. Then he shrugged. “You know the policy. You can fuck but you gotta make a pretty penny from it. You’d really pay to get in bed with him? Doubt he’d do the same for you.” She continued staring out the window. The three men suddenly came into her line of sight as they trekked down the flight of stairs. Kiran’s body wasn’t in their grasp. They must’ve put him up in his room. McKenzie’s skin prickled and her legs wanted to run to go check on him, but she stayed put. The black SUV pulled out of the parking lot and Davide couldn’t find a reason to stay out here anymore. He headed back for his office, entering the small room without another word. She stared at his closed door, the tingling on her skin becoming too much. She had to do something to satisfy the curiosity. Her feet took off and she was out the door, sprinting up the stairs. Before she bolted into room A17 like she wanted to, she peered in through the paper thin drapes, carefully pushing open the door when she didn’t like what she saw. He laid lifeless on the bed, face down in the mattress. His jeans were unzipped and resting further down on his hips than they normally would’ve. Day old bruises mixed with new ones on his back, along with bite marks and scratches from fingernails. He’s been put through hell, and having gone through the same, the pain resinated on another level in McKenzie’s mind. She softly crouched down near the side of the bed. The state of the fifteen year old’s face made her cup her mouth again. A cut in his hairline caused blood to dry in his hair and drip down his forehead, framing his closed, bruising eyes. His nose was slightly bent and bleeding. The blood was wet and mixing with the blood that flowed from his busted lip. McKenzie’s fingers gently traced the side of his bruised and tender jaw. He didn’t stir awake at all or show any signs that he felt her touch. She hopped up from the ground to get a wet washcloth from the kitchen, as well as a cold bottle of water from the fridge. Kneeling down again, she cleaned as much of the blood from his face as she could, applying the water bottle to various bruises here and there. Another trip to the sink to run hot water over the washcloth, putting it over the same bruises once she came back into the main room.

He was still out like a light when she left his motel room a little while after, and he stayed passed out until he groggily regained consciousness several hours after, feeling like he had just joined an army of the undead. His limbs were heavy and his body was stiff. The entire lower half of him ached and made him double over once he remembered what caused his pain. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. His head spun with questions that he didn’t get answers to. Why was it so easy for people to forget he was a human being? He wasn’t some toy there to be messed around with and then thrown away. He had feelings - he had a life - and he mattered. Kiran eventually pushed himself up and crawled towards the head of the bed. Finding the little bag of the green hash, he grabbed it and a lighter. He smoked until he was able to dull the neverending pain and silence the questions his mind sobbed, finally passing out once he found that the only thing that helped was not being awake for any of it. And in the last second before his eyes dropped shut from fatigue, he cursed God.

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