***.

He stood there on the corner, his small bag slung over his shoulder, the few things he could grab stuffed inside. His long blonde hair covered his eyes as he scanned his surroundings, inadvertently he pulled flakes of dried blood from the tips.
The city at dusk was full of the filth that wouldn’t come out during daylight hours. Scummy people trying to steal off each other, a mother nursing her baby in the gutter and a short crazy lady grabbing at people and talking to herself, this wasn’t the place for a seventeen year old. His father had kicked him out with no money, he couldn’t afford food or somewhere to sleep. Not that his parents cared or would give a second thought about how their first born son would live on the streets.
If he could afford a lighter he’d torch the fuckers.
Probably not though. He started walking down the main street, perhaps he could find a suitable place that would offer him a free meal, though not likely around here. People were selfish in the city, taking but not giving, he was too nice for that. In that way he was completely different from his family, they were the city type and he was the good Samaritan, giving when he could, helping.

He wandered around the dank city peering through takeaway shop windows, cowering from the people he passed. Should he look for a job? He had no qualifications or had anything he was good at. Would he die out here?

Hours later, at a 24 hour McDonalds, where no matter how much he begged, would anyone give him a fucking cheeseburger, he was forced to think about his sleeping arrangements. After throwing packets of salt and straws at the kid at the counter he was kicked out. (In retrospect, not such a good idea.)

So where in this city could he find somewhere that wasn’t covered in bird shit and as dirty as...as his old place?
He checked the clock on the wall. Fourteen past one in the morning and it was getting bloody cold. The wind had picked up about ten minutes ago and was biting through his thin, moth-eaten, red jumper, the small hairs on his sleek body standing on end as he went back on the streets. Bad idea, the weather only got colder and harsher, and the chill wind seemed to be trying to push him into the still crowded traffic. He strayed down an alley to avoid the brunt of the cold winds. Stopping at an alcove with small garbage bins in it, he thought it was good enough. Two cardboard boxes and a paper pillow later and he was huddled in the alcove, shaking uncontrollably against the cold. It was well past three when he passed out from the cold.

His eyes shot open and a sharp gasp escaped him when his body realized he was lying on a soft surface, no wind slashing at his face. He sat up, his limbs numb from the cold. It mustn’t have been long since he was moved.
No, it was still dark out.
He lifted his head to get a better look at the messy, one room apartment that consisted of a bed, a small kitchen and a now unseen bathroom. His eyes focused on a source of light coming from the far end of the room. A man that looked about thirty was staring over a book, looking right into his eyes.
“Hello,” his voice was too high for the look of him, as if he should be a military commander. “My name is Frank, what’s yours?” He put the book down. It was thick and had a blank green cover.
Frank, (he never knew anyone by that name) stood up and walked over to sit on the bed. He raised his eyebrows in anticipation of the boys response.
“Isa,” he said, no more than necessary.
“Where am I?” Avoiding eye contact he focused on a small painting behind him of a crowded beach in the summer time.
“I found you cold as ice in an alley, I sometimes help the homeless on tough nights out on the streets, sometimes you just need some help” He spoke with such force and intensity, his eyes never left Isa’s.
“Umm…thanks,” What the hell else was he supposed to say? He dared a glance at the older man and found Frank was smiling, staring, his pudgy hands folded in his lap.

“Would you like something to eat?” He got up and went to the fridge. “I don’t have much, but there’s some things that will help you warm up a bit more. I have some little pies or some leftover sausages I could warm up for you. Everyone likes sausages don’t they?” He pulled a bottle of milk out of the fridge, opened it and smelled it. “Oh I could make you some hot chocolate or a coffee, I don’t know, what would you like? The milk smells fine, I should just make a bit of everything and then you can make up your mind.”

What the fuck, the only time he had taken a breath was to check the milk, which from where Isa was sitting didn’t smell too good.
“I’m good thank you,” He managed before Frank started making anything. “I’ve actually got to go now, but thanks for everything.” His legs swung over the edge of the bed and he realized he was only in his underwear, his white legs contrasting with the black sheets. Before he had a chance to ask Frank chimed in unnaturally high.
“I think you had walked in some puddles and your pants were wet so I put them in the dryer.” Franks hand were still folded though standing up, eyes still staring right at him.
“Well I’ll just get them and I’ve got to go,” He wrapped a sheet around his waist and started for the bathroom. He heard Frank waddling along behind him. Reaching the bathroom he poked his head inside. There was no dryer in the bathroom, just a shower and a gritty as all hell toilet. He turned to fast and ran into Frank, who grabbed his arms to stop him falling. Well it seemed like it for a second.

He was swung around and pushed back towards the bed, he fell back onto it.
“What the fuck!” Isa yelled, sitting up only to be greeted by a cloth that was shoved in his mouth. Grunting was all he could do through the material in his mouth, it tasted like sweat and spit. Frank started humming a tune that he couldn’t place and he was flipped onto his stomach, a hand holding him down by his neck.
NO! Fucking, NO! He screamed to himself. The sheet around his waist was ripped off him, the cold of the room nipping at his legs. His arms were forced behind his back and held there, a pain in his shoulders and elbows told his upper body to stay still. Legs though, told to run. He kicked and thrashed the best he could but still he felt a clammy hand at the base of his spine, his underwear slipped off despite the tangle of his legs. Isa’s eyes wide open and full of as many tears he has had over the years, his thighs forced apart by another pair of legs and a breath in his ear.
“You wanna know my philosophy Isa?” Frank’s tongue found his ear and licked his earlobe. Isa sobbed and shook his head. “If it’s there, do it. Simple,” He bit his earlobe. “And there you were Isa," He chuckled as if it was an inside joke, and Isa felt a pain unlike any other he’d felt before, muscles tensing did nothing to help and he gave in.
He shook between sobs the pain not letting, he closed his eyes and hoped, just hoped it would end quick.

He felt Frank tense and groan, a wet feeling after the older man had finished. He watched as a large arm reached over and fumbled under the pillow, he pulled out Isa’s pants , shoes and socks. He sobbed again, what did he do wrong?
He was pulled up from the bed, his arms held by one hand his clothes in Franks other. He cringed as something wet ran down his leg, he could barely walk. Frank threw his clothes next to the door, opened it with his free hand pulled the cloth out of Isa’s mouth and pushed him out. He caught himself with his aching elbows, spread over the hallway of an apartment building half naked. His clothes kicked out after him and a door slammed.
Opening his eyes he waited for them to adjust to the dark, a stairwell and two doors. One way out. He got to his knees and put his pants on, being as careful as he could, he now didn’t own underwear. His socks and shoes next and he stumbled down the stairs. Fuck, his bag, he was fucked.
At this thought he sat outside the front door of the building and cried, he sat there and cried until he could move.

Across the street in a rather large park he lay on a bench, making himself as small as he could in his jumper. He would stay here forever, not thinking, not feeling. Or until he was made to move. Fucking public parks.