Room 253
Chapter four
It’s been a month. It’s been a year. It’s been time since he uses me. I could remember but I won’t.
Sometimes is only his dick, sometimes are other hands. Sometime is just cheap whiskey that heats my stomach, sometimes there is cocaine to wash away the fears and the tears.
-Get a shower and get dressed. A dickhead’s coming over and I have to get out. His bag is on the table. Ask him 20 bucks. If he wants a ride with you, ask whatever you want. By sweetheart.- Sebastian leans and kisses me. His breath smell hard and I have to use all my strength not to gag. He smells of meat and I hate it. He ruffles my hair and get out of the house.
I do what he orders me to do.
Upstairs, in the bathroom, I undress and open the water. I carefully wash my thighs, my penis, my back and neck. All the places he has recently touched. It took 10 minutes to wash my mouth, to wash away all of him. I go to the bedroom we share and get dress. I watch myself on the mirror. A pale, skinny boy salutes me. I avert my eyes. It makes me sick.
The doorbell rings. I inhale. I put a fake smile on my face and go downstairs.
I breathe out while I open the door. On the other side there is a guy, a mess of long dirty black hair encircles his pale face. He’s skinny too and all dressed in black. He looks at me, but I can’t see his eyes because of a pair of sunglasses.
-I need Sebastian- hoarse, low voice.
-I’ll give you your bag- I answer. He leans forward, his pinky lips a little apart, like he wants to say something. Then he just nods. His hair touches my skin.
I start to feel.
Goosebumps all over me. His smell of tobacco and dark and something I can’t name crash in my nostrils and I feel it in my mouth.
My hands start shaking; my knees are more fragile than the finest china. I do not have saliva anymore.
-Who are you?- he asks. I know I can’t talk. I’m not trained for answers.
I draw back. I turn and reach the table. I take his bag and I hand it to him. He seems confused. I see he’s shaking like my hands. Maybe he just needs his dose. -20 bucks?- his voice is lower than before. I nod. He hands the money. I cannot raise the other arm. His smell is too strong. His heat is corroding my skin. He lefts the money on the table and then he reaches out to take his bag. I feel him breathe in while he gets closer. Electricity burns us while he touches my hand. I can’t stand it. I can’t afford all of this. He seems to agree with my thoughts. He looks down and get out too quick for me to name my feelings, too slow to erase them. I am scared. I trace his scent up to the door. I hold on a second, lost in his heat. Then comes the fear, the cold. He’s gone. I am only shit.
I retreat to my numbness. I feel safe again.
Sometimes is only his dick, sometimes are other hands. Sometime is just cheap whiskey that heats my stomach, sometimes there is cocaine to wash away the fears and the tears.
-Get a shower and get dressed. A dickhead’s coming over and I have to get out. His bag is on the table. Ask him 20 bucks. If he wants a ride with you, ask whatever you want. By sweetheart.- Sebastian leans and kisses me. His breath smell hard and I have to use all my strength not to gag. He smells of meat and I hate it. He ruffles my hair and get out of the house.
I do what he orders me to do.
Upstairs, in the bathroom, I undress and open the water. I carefully wash my thighs, my penis, my back and neck. All the places he has recently touched. It took 10 minutes to wash my mouth, to wash away all of him. I go to the bedroom we share and get dress. I watch myself on the mirror. A pale, skinny boy salutes me. I avert my eyes. It makes me sick.
The doorbell rings. I inhale. I put a fake smile on my face and go downstairs.
I breathe out while I open the door. On the other side there is a guy, a mess of long dirty black hair encircles his pale face. He’s skinny too and all dressed in black. He looks at me, but I can’t see his eyes because of a pair of sunglasses.
-I need Sebastian- hoarse, low voice.
-I’ll give you your bag- I answer. He leans forward, his pinky lips a little apart, like he wants to say something. Then he just nods. His hair touches my skin.
I start to feel.
Goosebumps all over me. His smell of tobacco and dark and something I can’t name crash in my nostrils and I feel it in my mouth.
My hands start shaking; my knees are more fragile than the finest china. I do not have saliva anymore.
-Who are you?- he asks. I know I can’t talk. I’m not trained for answers.
I draw back. I turn and reach the table. I take his bag and I hand it to him. He seems confused. I see he’s shaking like my hands. Maybe he just needs his dose. -20 bucks?- his voice is lower than before. I nod. He hands the money. I cannot raise the other arm. His smell is too strong. His heat is corroding my skin. He lefts the money on the table and then he reaches out to take his bag. I feel him breathe in while he gets closer. Electricity burns us while he touches my hand. I can’t stand it. I can’t afford all of this. He seems to agree with my thoughts. He looks down and get out too quick for me to name my feelings, too slow to erase them. I am scared. I trace his scent up to the door. I hold on a second, lost in his heat. Then comes the fear, the cold. He’s gone. I am only shit.
I retreat to my numbness. I feel safe again.