HOUSE OF BROKEN SOULS Part 1, Prologue

[eisht]

Warnings: This Chapter: Adult themes, prostitution. Overall: Slash, sexually explicit content, graphic violence
The fiction includes a mental illness storyline. I am not qualified in mental health, everything I know about it is googled. It's fantasy folks, please don't shoot me though helpful criticism is always welcomed.
*Not real. The folks aren't mine. No damage intended.

This isn't betaed. I have no idea how to go about that and no wish to make someone cry with frustration.
I have no idea where this story came from, just that it did. There were two prompts that grew into this huge plot bunny. I share the first here but the second would be a spoiler so I will share it later.

“Times have changed

for the better
You like to say
Nice house in the country
Now you're on your way
You took advantage of your possibilities
Got your sights set far
No time for sympathy

Keeping up with the Jones's
Smiling at the neighbors
Don't let them see your...

Dirty, Dirty Little Secret
Keep your hands over your eyes and
Maybe it will go away”

-Queensryche – Dirty Lil Secret.

Winter 2001

The car is sleek and expensive, out of place by this dingy alley with it’s burnt out dumpsters and debris that speaks of drug addictions and cheap thrills.

The boy flicks his gaze upwards and surveys the car, bright hazel eyes seem older than the painfully thin, rangy frame. The windows are tinted, no hint of it’s occupant. He’s not nearest but he senses hesitation in the others. Everything about this unexpected John screams “unsafe”. He steps forward into the glowing orange of the streetlamp and pauses, waiting for someone to object. As far as he has fallen, as many compromises as he has made, he will not make a deal to share these earnings, and he’s not prepared to ruffle any pimp’s feathers.

The car stops entirely now, a window rolls down a fraction and a voice speaks.

“Hey kiddo. Yes you. How old are you?”

“Old enough. If you’re lookin’ for a child you’ll have to move on.” He purses his lips, sulky and defiant.

“Not looking for trouble. You’ll do. Get in kid.”

The door opens and it’s hard to see into the shadows within. The boy looks briefly at the street-worker nearest to him, he doesn’t know him, has spoken maybe once or twice. The other hooker is looking him in the eyes and shaking his head in a faint expression of “No. Don’t!” but the boy’s stomach is empty, the knees of his torn jeans are muddied and he stopped feeling his toes hours earlier. His heart is empty and he thinks he’ll either end up dead or well paid. He figures either outcome is OK.

He gets into the car.

Continue to part 2:anniespinkhouse.livejournal.com/1235.html

Comments

[buttercup22.livejournal.com]

great start!

[meus_venator]

Oh painfully haunting start. I guess I know what I'm doing for the next 80 hour : )

[anniespinkhouse.livejournal.com]

One of these days I will shock you all by launching straight into happy, schmoop... You are allowed a break you know!

[jolieblon.livejournal.com]

So this was your first fic, and it's the last one of your posted pieces that I'm reading.
Obviously this means you should be writing more. It's irresponsible to get me addicted and then leave me hanging. ;)

[anniespinkhouse.livejournal.com]

0_o, I'm in trouble. Not written so much of late but there will be the BB ... need to get my head back in the game!