Downstairs, a little boy with curly brown hair is standing in front of a chair with only boxers on. I squat in front of him. He steps back but still doesn’t sit on the chair.

“Okay,” my brother says, “I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be right back,” before going into another room. I haven’t been here often so I have no idea where I am or where he went.

The boy’s left eye is red and his bottom lip is bleeding. He also has a really deep bite mark on his shoulder, from which blood is still leaking. He is shivering. I look around but I don’t see anything to cover him with. I take off my jacket and place it on his shoulders.

“Okay,” I start, “I am going to take care of those wounds. Please sit on the chair.” He shakes his head. “Why won’t you sit?”

He takes a moment before answering, “because it hurts.”

I stay still. 

“I’ve never seen you before,” he continues, “are you here to take me back home?”

That’s why I never want to go down here.

I know what’s happening, but I prefer not to see it and to just ignore it. Right now, all I want to do is carry this kid outside and bring him back to his parents.

But I can’t. 

The kid is probably not older than seven, which means that he is most likely not a runaway, but was given to us by his parents.

He is here to pay for his parents mistakes. 

The first kid who “worked” here was a nine-year-old boy named Sullivan, a small blond kid with bright blue eyes. His parents owed five hundred dollars worth of drugs to my dad. They had no way to repay him, so my dad offered to make money off the kid. They were drug addicts who had a child on accident, so they didn’t hesitate. I met Sullivan when I was eight. My dad came back with him one day and told us he was going to stay with us until he found somewhere else to keep him. Sullivan lived with us for two weeks before being moved to the brothel’s basement. During those two weeks, my dad had instructed my brothers and his friends, James and Colby, to find young runaways and bring them to the brothel. Three weeks after Sullivan’s arrival, my dad had already started a children pr*stitution business. He doesn’t care about how wrong it is, as long as it’s making money. And damn, children pr*stitution makes a lot of money. Most of it is used for building’s renovations throughout the city and for buying the police’s silence.

One Sunday, around five months after he arrived, Sullivan wasn’t at the woods. Apparently he went back home because he’d worked enough to repay his parents’ debt. I tried looking for him but nothing ever came up.

The kid is still shivering in front of me, trying to hold in his tears.

“Not yet kiddo,” I answer with a reassuring voice, “but soon. It’s okay if you don’t want to sit, just stay here while I go get a medical kit, ok? I’ll get you some biscuits on the way. Would you like that?” He nods and I quickly go back upstairs. I pretty much run to the office to get the medical kit and some expensive biscuits, which we keep for the clients. On the way back, as I am sliding m way through a dancing crowd, someone grabs my arm.

“Where are you going,” Liam asks, shouting through the loud music. “Did something happen?”

The woman next to him is glaring at me. She is a tall black-haired woman in her twenties. I most likely interrupted them.

I pull my arm away. “A Code Red downstairs. I am taking care of it.”

“Downstairs uh,” we’ve never talked about it, but I know that he avoids that place as much as I do. “Alright, be careful. Come and get me if you need me.” I roll my eyes before leaving the crowd and heading downstairs.

The kid is still there, patiently waiting for me. I give him the biscuits and squat in front of him again, putting the medical kit on the floor next to me.

After a few minutes, I finish cleaning and patching up the kid’s wounds. I stand up and look around.

What am I supposed to do with him now?

I don’t know the basement, I don’t know where I should bring him. I decide to go where Esteban went, asking the kid to stay put. 

But by the time my hand reaches the doorknob, the door flies open. “Caleb,” Esteban shouts, “are you done with the kid?”

“Yeah, I don’t know where to bring him now.” His pupils are dilated and his jaw is clenched. “I’m going to take care of it,” he answers, I can see that his knuckles are bright red. “Go back upstairs now and don’t tell anyone you were here.” I give one last look to the kid, who is still standing in front of the chair, eating his biscuits slowly. Esteban grabs his arm and they go through that door together. The kid is holding the little biscuit box tightly.

I wonder if I’ll ever see that kid again.

Or will he just disappear one day like Sullivan did?

As I walk up the stairs, the music becomes louder and louder, the lights reflecting on the dark walls of the basement. I open the door and the loudness of the room slaps me in the face. I was so focused on getting this task done that I hadn’t realized how loud the music was.

I look around and see Liam in a booth, chatting with the same woman. She is sitting next to him, talking in his ear while his hand is resting on her thigh.

Sometimes I wonder with how many of the women Liam has slept since he’s been working here. I wouldn’t be surprised if his body count was close to a hundred at this point.

His eyes diverge from the woman’s thighs to me. He says something to her before walking up to me. “Was everything ok down there,” he asks, his mouth way too close to my ear that it sends chills down my spine.

“It was a Code Red in the kid's corner, what do you think,” I answer sarcastically. “I handled it because apparently, you were too busy.” I give a quick look to the woman, still watching Liam from her booth. He rolls his eyes.

“I am busy. She is the daughter of a bank owner. My dad wants us to get acquainted.”

“Acquainted? Sounds like a polite way to say “Be a wh*re, son”.” His throat bobs but he doesn’t say anything.

He knows I’m right.

“Get back to work,” I say bluntly, “I need to get some air.”

I bump into his shoulder as I get off the dance floor and head out the back, where we usually handle our drug deals.

Outside, I see James just waiting on the side with a cigarette resting between his lips. I see his head slowly falling backward.

This dumbass is about to fall asleep.

A few meters away, four kids are in a circle, fidgeting.

“James, it’s not the time to fall asleep,” I say, slapping his arm. He shivers and looks at me, his eyes wide open.

“F*ck Caleb, don’t scare me like that.” He lights up his cigarette again and points at the kids. “Those kids have been waiting here for a while. Looks like first-time buyers,” he takes a puff, “reminds me of when I first bought some drugs on my own. I was scared for some reason.”

“What a waste of time. If they’re going to buy drugs, they should just do it quickly and leave. I’ll talk to them.”

I walk up to the group and tap on the shoulder of the first person I see. All of them are wearing black hoodies, as if they were about to rob a bank. The person turns around, startled.

“If you want to buy something,” I say, “it’s now or never.” She looks at me with her big green eyes, her long straight black hair framing her face. She has freckles on her nose and plump pink lips. She straightens her back.

“Yes indeed,” she pauses and clears her throat, “we want to buy something.”

Yes indeed? “Alright, what is it that you want?”

She looks at her friends. One is tall with dark skin and black eyes. He has very strong features, like a jaw that could cut through glass. He is quite handsome. “What would you recommend,” he asks.

“I heard cocaine is good,” says the one next to him. He has curly blond hair with brown eyes. He is rather small, with a round babyface.

“No,” answers the one next to him, another small kid with bright blue eyes and greasy brown hair, “I heard ecstasy is fun.”

“Maybe we should take both,” says the girl. “How much do you guys have?”

One by one they take out bills from their pockets. They easily have 400.

Rich spoiled kids, I think.

“Well,” she continues, “we’ll take some cocaine and ecstasy.”

It’s like she asked for a coke at the bar. I scoff.

“You’ll have to go see the guy behind me for that.” She nods and they all walk towards James, who has a stupid grin on his face.

As she walks past me, she stops.

“Do you work here?”

“Sort of,” I answer, unbothered.

“Aren’t you a bit young for that?”

“Aren’t you a bit young to buy drugs?”

She stays silent for a few seconds, “I am 16 though.” She pouts and analyses me. “You’re Caleb Cain, aren’t you?”

What is this, a questioning? This is just an annoying conversation, I don’t owe her any kind of information. I was just making a sale.

“Just go get your drugs,” I say coldly. She rolls her eyes and joins her friends. She seems like a total brat.

I get back inside and grab a beer from the fridge behind the counter. I feel like tonight is going to be a long night.

Hopefully, Colby will be here in a few hours.

****