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Ignas’ home is a one-bedroom apartment. Escaping the groans of filth from the other room isn’t easy.
With my bags and boxes in hand, I pace around the room. Eventually, I hear a commotion inside the bedroom. A couple of moments later, the man who face-fucked my friend slash patient leaves the bedroom. He’s zipping his pants on his way out. He doesn’t pay me any attention, and I don’t look at him too closely.
Katantians scare me even after all this time.
I shut the door to Ignas’ apartment, and I stomp toward his bedroom.
“You came,” Ignas says, faking enthusiasm. He’s breathing hard, and his nose is bleeding. What the fuck happened? I put my boxes on one of the cupboards, and I inspect his face.
“What did that man do to you?” I ask. Instantly, I make him sit upright. He winces at the pain in various areas of his body. I instruct him to lean his head forward just a little bit. He doesn’t want to cooperate because he’s confused, but I enforce my will by promising him the chocolate he asked for.
I clean up his face with a cloth. Surprisingly, there are no remnants of come near his lips, only blood.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m high right now, so I can’t feel shit!” he blurts out.
“What is this?” I gesture at his bruised face. There are bruises all over his body. I’m unsure whether I want to know about what transpired.
“He’s a customer at COCKED&screwed. He likes it a little rough. He pays girls to punch them in the face while he comes. One day, he came up to me and asked if I was down… I guess the girls weren’t enough. I agreed because it’s good money,” he explains. He’s in a haze from the painkillers for his knee, and I don’t understand half the things he says to me.
“I can’t go to work now,” he blurts out. His eyes are red, and I pity him. I wish he had friends or family to help him out, but he’s one of the loners. He doesn’t trust easily, so he’s attached himself to me. “I’m out of work for two months! Maybe… More.”
“Perhaps you can focus on your studies. Finish your schoolwork early,” I tell him.
“How did you hurt yourself?” I ask him.
“I don’t know….” He swallows. His eyes are glossy, and he shrugs, shifting away from me. “It happened abruptly… I was walking home, and I slipped. It’ll be okay.”
When I bring him one of the boxes, he opens them up right away.
Ignas grins at the candy, seemingly forgetting his sorrows for only a little while. “Rich friends. You are the best!”
“Hey, I’m not rich,” I tell him, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. I smell the other man’s expensive perfume in the room, and I feel like gagging. I’m not against sex work, but Ignas shouldn’t be in this industry. From my years of therapy with him, I don’t find him compatible.
“You used to be, though. You act sooooooo rich!” Ignas finishes the candy box in five minutes, stuffing himself with calories for days. He sucks on the fruit with the bitter chocolate coating like he hasn’t consumed them in years. He’s a mess by the end of it, but he’s a cute mess. His freckles point out an innocence that’s not yet fully lost.
“Why was he here, Ignas?” I finally ask.
“What do you mean?” Ignas rubs his belly. I’m positive that even if he stuffs himself with chocolate for the next three months, he’ll still keep his model figure. There’s barely any fat on this man.
It’s not a question I like to ask. “Do you need money?”
Ignas sighs. “Youwererich. Now, you’re one of us. Don’t go offering charity to the likes of me… He came because I need the money, yes. I’ve got plenty of clients where that came from.”
“You’re vulnerable,” I remind him. He squints his eyes, not liking the bite of his past. “Right now, you’re vulnerable, and you can’t defend yourself if need be. Please, don’t endanger yourself for… How much are you even earning with… blowjobs?”
“Thatblowjob cost him one week’s rent,” Ignas reveals. The underage in the abandoned youth facility don’t pay rent. They’re safely tucked away in the upper floors of this home, away from the legal-aged teens. Once you reach a certain age in this home, they start charging bills and move you to the lower floors. Kamila has negotiated low rents, but the children that grow up here have few prospects. She’s granting them free education, but it’s a slow process out of this despair.
“You were hurt, though,” I tell him.
“Don’t pout at me, Ms. Lin,” he says with a ton of charm. “I like it that way.”
“You can’t tell me that you liked being punched in the face. That’s a stretch, even for your standards.”
“I do what I have to do,” Ignas insists. “Make sure you remember that, Ms. Lin. You had it all once, but now that you’re one of us mere mortals, anything can happen.”
What have I done?
CHAPTERTWELVE
