Part 2

I know they won’t stop until I'm dead.

Until they’ve deemed my suffering enough to pay for what I’ve done.

I put my back against the wall, my naked body shivering against it. I wrap my arms around my knees.

I have to choose now - starve to death or let them kill me slowly.

Or fight to get out.

I take a deep breath as the door opens.

I have made my choice.

Chapter 1

Caleb 

I remember how I buried him.

I was six and pretty small for my age - which seemed to be my brothers and Liam’s favorite thing to joke about. I was cold and alone, but there I was, digging a grave for a dog that had been the closest thing I had to a friend.

Three months back, while coming back home from school, I heard a faint bark coming from a carton box. When I had squatted next to it, there they were - three puppies. I think they were golden retrievers, although looking back on it they must have been strays, otherwise they would have been sold and not just abandoned freely on the sidewalk.

I observed them for a while. Two of them were sleeping - or dead - and one was staring at me and barking, his tails moving side to side. I understood pretty quickly that if no one was taking care of them now they would die in this box tonight, because of how cold the weather had gotten. I wanted to help them but I couldn’t take all three. I would have to hide it somewhere and hiding one would be tedious already, but three? That was an impossible mission. So I figured: if I can’t save all of them, I will at least take one.

It’s better than nothing, right?

So I took the lively one and shoved it in my school backpack. I ran home, hid it in the tool-house in the garden and named him Jumbo. For three months, I would bring him food, play with him, clean his sh*t and walk him at night. I remember buying a leash in secret, going into the pet store as if I was on a secret mission and could be discovered at any moment. I tried to see this as something cool, exciting and fun, instead of what it really was: fear.

Fear of getting caught.

Fear of getting punished.

Fear of losing Jumbo.

As time passed, he grew bigger and louder. One night, when I was coming back from my walk, Esteban and Rafael were waiting for me in the tool house. They had seen the dog stuff, so they knew that the loud barking that they attributed to the neighbors’ stupid dog actually belonged to the dog that was at the end of my leash. I begged them not to tell our parents, and after looking at each other with a grin - a grin that I now know is bad news - they said that they wouldn’t. On the condition that they got to play with Jumbo too. Of course I agreed, thinking Nice, we will play the four of us, it’s going to be so much fun!

Of course, this is not what they had in mind.

The next day, I came back from school to see my dog, laying in a pool of blood. I can see it as if it had happened yesterday, no matter how much I try to forget it. The things they did to him were atrocious. I had wanted to scream, but I didn’t. I didn’t even feel the need to cry, I was just filled by this feeling of emptiness as if it had covered me like a wave covering a beach shore. It just washed over me and didn’t leave for weeks. Years later, I can still feel it, as if all of a sudden, the wave became larger, greater, its force pushing me underwater.

I watched the corpse of Jumbo with a completely empty mind for a while - maybe ten minutes or twenty - before coming to the conclusion that if I didn’t do anything, it would smell and my parents would find out. The next thing I remember is digging a big hole in the forest behind my house, glancing back at Jumbo’s corpse in the wheelbarrow every minute, as if to check if it was still there, still dead.

And here I am, nine years later, hearing Esteban say that the new secret code will be called “Code Jumbo, in memory of that ugly dog”.

My brothers, Liam and I work - we are not paid, we are just “working” there because it’s our parents’ business - at the brothel owned by our families. We take care of the clients, the well-being of the women and the money. We pretty much run the place, even if our dad is constantly breathing down our necks, asking the same questions every night - how much did you make? How many clients? Was anyone hurt? Don’t forget to send me the final report by Sunday. Liam writes and sends the final report, gathering the numbers of the week. My dad checks everything meticulously.

“Alright,” says Liam, while writing down the new code on an excel sheet. “So we have Code Blue when a client rapes a worker, Code Red when one physically hurts a worker, Code Black when a client leaves without paying, and Code..” He pauses and sighs, “Code Jumbo when someone is killed, worker or client.” He looks up to Rafael and Esteban, “it should be all we need. It’s better than texting the real thing, in case the police buries their noses in our business.” He sighs again, “anyone has anything else to add?” We all shake our heads. He then proceeds to print five copies of the document before putting the digital copy on a USB key, so he can delete the original excel document from his computer. We each get a copy, and one will be given to the women so they can memorize it.

It is now 8:50pm and the doors of the brothels are opening in ten minutes. Esteban and Rafael get out of the office we were sitting in to get prepared to welcome the clients, while Liam and I go check on the women. 

The women came to work here because they desperately needed money. Some of them are mothers, some are in debt, and some owe money to our families. Since they can’t pay us, they send their daughters, sons - or themselves - to work for us. In the brothel, we have all kinds of services available: drinks, drugs, escorts, shows and of course, prostitution. Liam and I mostly work with the women: we make sure they are healthy - clean - and presentable, and that they are doing their job properly. We also take care of their protection and that their “rights” are protected. My brothers work with the rest - the ones who are hidden more than the girls, the ones that we are not allowed to talk about. They are taken from the streets, runaways who thought they were smart enough to make it on their own with no money, no job and barely any education. They are the ones whose parents owed something, or did something they need to repay for in some ways. They are kept in the basement of the brothels, which has been arranged into a sort of small hotel, with separate rooms where they all live in. They are only let out on Sundays, taken into the depth of the woods where they can get some fresh air and play. When I was younger, I would play with them on those days. I didn’t know why they were here, why we played in the woods and why they were always thin, tired and scared. They were always the same ones until one left without any explanation and replaced with another kid, younger and more lively. I never asked where the disappearing kids went - I was taught not to. You don’t ask any questions, I would remind myself, I should just be happy to be able to make more friends. But when I was thirteen, I was told who the kids were and I was forbidden to go to the woods with them on Sundays. My father said that I was getting too old for this, that I should now contribute to the business and be useful. You have to start pulling your weight, he said, and stop being a burden to us.

Now I try to focus on the upper part of the brothel, with the women. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of the men going down there. They all have the same look when coming back up: they keep their head down, undeniably shameful of what they did. But they keep on coming, they keep on doing those things. No matter how disgusting and immoral it is.

But again, who am I to talk? I work at a brothel. I watch over prostitutes. That’s why I try my best to watch over them, make sure that they’re safe. 

Liam and I go up to the women’s rooms, where they are getting ready for tonight. When we enter the room, we are welcomed by Penelope - Pen for short - with a warm smile.

Pen has been working here for three years to support her two kids. She lives about 30 minutes away from here with her mother. Pen told her that she was working late shifts at the hospital - but in reality she got fired from the hospital three years ago and now sleeps with men for money. 

Pen is also the first woman I slept with. It was last year, the night had ended and everyone was going back home. My brothers had been pressuring me for being a virgin at my age - 14 years old - and I had told Pen about it. That night, she offered to sleep with me, so my brothers wouldn’t annoy me anymore. She had been really patient and gentle, making sure that I was comfortable and enjoying the moment. After that, I told my brothers that I had slept with one of the women, but never admitted who it was. I preferred to keep it a secret, and Pen did the same. I think she didn’t say it more because it would have made her a p*dophile than because she wanted to respect my wish. I believe she slept with me to help me, and not because she could be a child predator.

Besides, I love Pen, she is the sweetest of the worker, always treating Liam and I as if we were her kids. I would hate to tarnish that image that I have of her. 

“So boys,” she asks, “who do I get tonight?”

“Well,” answers Liam, his finger searching Pen’s name on the list of orders, “looks like you’ll have two clients tonight, Mr. Kane and Mr. Salomon. They will both be waiting for you in Room 12.” Pen nods. Liam hands her the copy of the code names, “also, please pass this around. You all need to memorize it. I’ll come to throw it away in two days.” She takes the document and gets back to fixing her blond hair, which is always styled in big glossy curls.

Liam and I go around the room to tell each girl what, and who, they are assigned to: private rooms with clients or at the bar. The ones who get the rooms get paid more. They are also the most asked for. They are the more “luxurious” ones, the ones that are - apparently - the best. I only know of Pen’s talents, and I can’t deny the fact that she is the most skilled woman I’ve had sex with.

After her, I had sex with a couple of other women from the brothel, in secret, and with some older girls from my school. The women were pretty good, but nothing compared to Pen. And for the other girls, do I even need to say it? Most of the time it was their first time, and when it wasn’t, they were just laying there like dead fishes.

Then, two months ago, I had my first time with a man.

His name is Colby, he is one of my brothers’ oldest friends, so much that he pretty much saw me grow up. A few months back, he started giving me more attention than usual. When I was growing up, he was always really sweet, buying me things, helping me with my homework and ruffling my hair saying What a good boy you are. He would also ask me things like Do you like me? Do you know how much I like you? 

But a few months ago, his behavior changed. It was gradual, but now that I look back on it, quite noticeable. He was getting more physical, hugging me more, gesturing to sit on his lap while he helped me with my homework.

“You say you like me,” he had said, “but you never show it to me. It hurts you know?”

I truly did like him. At first, I thought I liked him like someone liked their friends, but as time progressed, I would get those butterflies in my stomach when I saw him and I would instantly be happy. I also caught myself thinking of him while I was alone at night pleasuring myself. At that point, I had understood that the way I liked Colby was different, and I had to figure out what he thought about me.

“I really like you Colby! But I don’t know how to show it to you.”

“It’s okay,” he had answered, “I’m going to show you.”

That day we kissed.

The next day we had sex.

He made me swear that I wouldn’t tell anyone, that it was our little secret. Now, I meet him around 3am in Room 4, when everyone has left the brothel, and we have sex. At first, it felt a bit uncomfortable for me because for some reason, it felt weird that a 15-year-old was toping a 21-year-old man. But he told me it was to show me how it was done, so I could do the same for him. We now switch from time to time. I also noticed that he likes to do it from behind - when we don’t see each other. When I ask him to face me, he seems to be annoyed by it. He told me that it was because he was ashamed of his finishing face - I think that’s cute.

We have been dating since then, and it has been great. The secret part of it is fun, we act normal in front of everyone, then I get him for myself at night. But I love it when, during the day, I see him watch me from afar, and when he notices my gaze, he smiles and winks at me.

Tonight went smoothly. It is now 2:45am and I am heading to Room 4 to meet with Colby, after having turned off the surveillance cameras. But to my surprise, I find Liam and him talking in front of the room. 

“I’ve seen you and Caleb go into this room every night,” I hear Liam say, “you’re not dumb enough to think that I wouldn’t notice, right?”

“Piss off Liam,” scoffs Colby, “this doesn’t concern you. Just let us be.”

“No one is allowed here after 3am.” As I get closer, I see Colby roll his eyes before answering, “could you stop being a pain in the a*s for a bit? Besides, it’s not like we are using the room for something else than what it’s for.”

“Colby, you are aware that Caleb is-”

“Hey, what’s going on?” I cut him. “I am sorry I hid it from you, we can find somewhere else if you’re gonna be an ass about it.” Liam frowns. “Please, just - just don’t tell anyone about this.” He hesitates then nods. As he walks past me, he stops and whispers “Be careful, don’t do anything stupid”. I answer with a Yes mom, before entering Room 4.

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