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"Do you remember when the abuse started?" I caress his lower back, seeking to make him feel comfortable. "I'm not specifically discussing this incident. I want to know when it began in general."
Wesley sniffles as he stares at his feet. "I really don't remember. I think the day I first arrived."
He blinks hard, no doubt to stave off tears. "They exposed me to adult things before I was ready. I didn't know what sex was when I arrived, but they didn't care. They put me to work right away and forced me to service a few of the boys they held captive as practice."
“Fuck, boy.” I fight the urge to snarl. “That's so vile."
"Many of the boys I first had sex with are no longer alive. My captors killed them when they aged out and were no longer prime goods. They only wanted fresh meat, younger guys they could pimp out to the highest bidder."
"Was the man you had sex with in charge of the operation?"
"He was a prominent guard. But I don't think so."
“Did he work at the warehouse full-time?”
“No. He disappeared for many hours of the day. I also heard him discussing stock market fluctuations with the other guards but he shut up when other people were around.”
"Did you catch his name?"
"I used to know it. Not anymore.”
"Do you rememberanythingelse about him?" I'm grasping for straws at this point. I don't want to sound like an asshole and yet, if the only thing Wesley remembers about this man is his face, that doesn't do me much good. I need a name, identification, something else. Otherwise, he's just one of the many men in ski masks who hurt my boy.
Myboy. I clench my fists as I force myself to think of him in a different way. Wesley isn't my boy; he's a survivor I'm watching until I return him to his family. That's it. Losing myself in fantasies of being his Daddy will only end in flames.
"I remember one important thing." Wesley stares into my eyes. "That's the reason I needed to speak to you."
Reaching my hand out, I drag my thumb across his cheek. "Tell me, sweet one." I keep my voice as comforting as I can. Wesley must know he's safe with me. "I'm listening."
"He was the man from the alley." Tears fall down his cheeks. "The dead man next to me. The one covered in blood."
Shock. Disbelief. Intrigue. These emotions slam into me faster than I can think.
"The man who blew you in your cage was the dead man from the alley?" I press.
Wesley nods. "I didn't remember it until earlier today. But yes, that's the guy who loved my dick."
"Did anyone know you were having sex with him?"
"Ollie. He's the only one."
"Did any of your clients know?" I wonder if one of Wesley's clients got jealous and exacted revenge.
Wesley shakes his head. "No. My captor told me to keep it a secret just between us."
"Do you remember anything else?"
Wesley lets out a sob. "Only that I was standing in the alley with a bloody knife when I saw you. You were my rescuer. That's it. If anything else pops into my brain, you'll be the first to know."
I pull Wesley close to me and wipe the tears from his eyes. I hand him his caterpillar stuffy and kiss his hair, letting him know everything will be all right.
But I'm not sure if everythingwillbe all right. The facts of his abduction are so vile, so sick and twisted, they make me want to grab my AK-47 and go on a rampage.
These gross men likely stole Wesley out of his family's backyard, put him to work, and forced him to have sex with men. He seized the first chance he had to escape and these men are probably foaming at the mouth to kill him.
"That's so wrong, sweet boy." Fighting back rage, I force myself to be the protector Wesley needs. A teddy bear, big and comfortable, and completely non-threatening. "I understand why you killed him. I'd do the same thing in your shoes."
Wesley cranes his head up. "That's the weird part."
