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“How old are you, son?” a man crouches in front of me to ask, while two others carry her out in a black body bag.
“Eighteen,” I don’t know why I lie, maybe it’s because I've seen half the kids from this park go into the system, and all I've heard is bad shit.
“You got somewhere you can go, family, friends?”
“Yeah,” I nod back.
“Someone will want to talk to you about this,” he explains, looking at the state of the room.
“I’m sorry, kid,” he taps my shoulder as he stands up and follows them out, and instantly I go into survival mode. I grab a bag, shoving anything that matters to me inside it, then I head into Aut’s old room and feel under his mattress for the gun he told me was kept there if I ever needed to use it.
Outside, all the action has stirred up a crowd, the police are talking to our neighbors. I manage to stay under the cover of darkness as I sneak out of the window and off to the park before anyone tries to play good Samaritan with me.
I try Aut on his cell again, but he doesn’t answer, and I keep on trying until I find myself standing on Luzo’s corner. This time I try a different number, and this guy picks up straight away.
“Travis.”
“I’ll take that fight,” I tell him, not waiting for a response before I hang up. Then I make my way to the back entrance of the old pawnshop Luzo runs his business out of. I don’t bother knocking, and find him getting his cock sucked by one of the skanky little whores that keep his pockets lined.
“Back so soon?” The fucker smirks at me, and the girl doesn’t look up from what she’s doing when he pats the back of her head.
“We had a deal,” I remind him, my voice sounds like it belongs to a stranger, rough and broken, and when he realizes he’s been caught out he has the nerve to smile at me.
“You forget that I’m a business man, Travis. Your Mama rang and she was desperate, so I put her in touch with someone.”
“You whored her out.” My fists clench with rage.
“I told you she’d need more eventually,” he smirks.
“She’s dead.”
The smile drops off his face, and when I take the gun out of my hoodie and point it at him his eyes stretch wider.
“We had a deal,” I tell him, pulling the trigger and making the girl sucking his cock fall back on her ass, screaming at the blood she’s now wearing.
I shove the gun back in my hoodie pocket and go to his body, raiding through his pockets and pulling out all the cash he’s carrying on him.
“Here,” I slam some into the girl’s trembling hands. “Get out here,” I order, before storming back out and into the fresh air.
I feel a sense of calm, one that overrides all the hurt inside me for just a few peaceful seconds.
I should have been there for her, I should have fought harder.
And now she’s gone
I look across the room at Shaniya, and I feel it all over again, the powerlessness, the guilt. I fuck up every time. How could I have trusted myself with something so fucking precious?
I want to go to her so bad, to fall on my knees in front of her and beg for forgiveness, but I know I ain’t worthy of it. So I do the only thing I can do for her, and I turn around and leave.
He looks so dangerously beautiful, with his long hair falling over his shoulders and the white tank top he wears beneath his cut sprayed with blood. I sense all his pain and anger, and the way he stares across the room at me is unwelcoming, yet I still feel drawn to him.
His eyes penetrate so many emotions, rage, hurt, regret. I just wish he would talk to me. How have we gone from being so close to this?
I hate the men that hurt me for that, more than anything else.
His cold expression doesn’t falter, and he quickly storms back out of the door without looking back.
Any doubt that I’m doing the right thing leaves with him.
