Chapter Text
PROLOGUE
“Times have changed
for the better
You like to say
Nice house in the country
Now you're on your way
You took advantage of your possibilities
Got your sights set far
No time for sympathy
Keeping up with the Jones's
Smiling at the neighbors
Don't let them see your...
Dirty, Dirty Little Secret
Keep your hands over your eyes and
Maybe it will go away”
-Queensryche – Dirty Lil Secret.
Winter 2001
The car is sleek and expensive, out of place by this dingy alley with its burnt out dumpsters and debris that speaks of drug addictions and cheap thrills.
The boy flicks his gaze upwards and surveys the car. His bright hazel eyes seem older than his painfully thin, rangy frame. The windows are tinted, no hint of its occupant. He’s not nearest, but he senses hesitation in the others. Everything about this unexpected John screams, ‘unsafe’. He steps forward into the glowing orange of the streetlamp and pauses, waiting for someone to object. As far as he has fallen, as many compromises as he has made, he will not make a deal to share these earnings and he’s not prepared to ruffle any pimp’s feathers.
The car stops entirely now, a window rolls down a fraction, and a voice speaks.
“Hey! Kiddo! Yes you. How old are you?”
“Old enough. If you’re lookin’ for a child you’ll have to move on.” He purses his lips, sulky and defiant.
“Not looking for trouble. You’ll do. Get in, kid.”
The door opens and it’s hard to see into the shadows within. The boy looks briefly at the nearest street-worker, he doesn’t know him, has spoken maybe once or twice. The other hooker is looking him in the eyes and shaking his head in a faint expression of ‘No. Don’t!’, but the boy’s stomach is empty, the knees of his torn jeans are muddied, and he stopped feeling his toes hours earlier. His heart is empty and he thinks he’ll end up either dead, or well paid. He figures either outcome is okay. He gets into the car.