Begin

The sun sat high in the sky. I felt warmth trickle over my body as the rays crept through the open blinds of the bedroom. Last night felt like a dream, more of a nightmare than something pleasant. I hadn't realised what I had gotten involved in until I sat in this large, sun-soaked room. I thought I wouldn't see Patrick for a while, and I felt ill, knowing something awful would happen if anyone found out what I had done. I tried to shake the thought from my mind, but my heart still raced. I ran my fingers gently across my lips, trying desperately to hold onto the feeling of Patrick's lips on mine. I closed my eyes and felt myself sink into the bed. A knock on the door set my body into panic mode. The door opens, and standing in front of me is the Tsar. His suit is tight-fitting, especially around his biceps. I don't know why my mind went straight to looking at his body, but he glowed in that room, drenched in the midday sun. He smiled at me, realising I had slept nude for the night and my bare chest was exposed; I clung tightly to the sheets, covering my chest. He sat beside me, reaching a hand up to my chin. This, I'd come to learn, was his way of ensuring I only looked at him. His hands were cold, startled me, and I shivered in his palm. Patrick stood in the doorway; I hadn't even noticed him until the Tsar asked him to get clothing from the cupboard and run me a bath. The Tsar held my gaze while barking orders at Patrick. I felt my cheeks going flush just from hearing his name. The Tsar noticed and ran his thumb over my warm cheek, pushing a little hard into the side of my mouth. His tongue snapped in his mouth, disappointed. 

"I do hope you're blushing for me?" His tone was cold; he knew I wasn't. I blinked slowly, letting my hands fall beside me, exposing my chest again. As the sheets dropped, the Tsar looked down and smiled. I had scars and a few bruises on my collarbone from my last encounter with Ho Ming. The Tsar let go of my chin and ran his index finger over my bruises. I winced, not because it hurt but because his hands were cold against my skin.

I wasn't sure what he wanted. Did he want to inspect me? Did he want me to throw myself at him? But he told me I was too young last night? Is he trying to show me he can be soft too? Before I had time to say anything, the Tsar had pushed me down onto the bed, his hands on my shoulders. He was gentle, and I was surprised that someone so large and robust could be so kind? He kissed my bruise, his lips were warm on my bone, and I felt my body tingling. Goosebumps appeared on my skin; he smirked and let me go. Patrick had watched the encounter, holding a towel for me and clothing. I felt my cheeks flush, and my entire body felt hot. As the Tsar spoke, it echoed inside my mind. 

"Patrick, make sure Milo is dressed and fed before 4 pm. Then take him down to meet everyone else and make sure he knows his way around." 

"Of course, sir." Patrick looked down and bowed. The Tsar began to exit the room, placing a hand on Patrick's shoulder before leaving and looking back at me, still fixated on my chest,

"Remember Patrick. I see all."

Patrick's face lost all colour. He went white, and his eyes closed. The hand on his shoulder tightened, and I could see Patrick holding back tears. I didn't understand what the Tsar meant. Does he see all? It hit me like a ten-ton truck barreling towards a wall. Did he see last night's encounter? But how is the room bugged? Are there hidden cameras here? I suddenly felt sick. The Tsar left. As the door closed, Patrick let out a long, desperate sigh. He placed the towel on the end of my bed and began to lay my clothing out for after my bath. I sat up, curiosity took over my body and before I knew my mouth was open,

"Patrick?" My voice shook in my throat, "I'm s-s-s-sorry", I stuttered. Patrick stopped, looked toward me and smiled. There it was, that genuine, sweet smile. "Don't apologise, Milo. I'm the adult, and I did something utterly foolish." He looked away toward the door to ensure no one was there, "I'll be better. Come, please bathe and get dressed. We have a lot to do today." He waved toward the bathroom and left me alone again in this room. Except for this time, I did not feel safe like last night. I was concerned that something awful would happen to him because of me. Those fears would come true later, but, for right now, I needed to bathe and get ready for meeting people, whatever that meant. 

I shook the thoughts from my mind and focused on the bathroom door. I wonder what it's like in there? I had been pretty unfortunate with Ho Ming. His apartment that I spent most of my time in had enormous space, yet Ho Ming kept me in one area. I had a pull-out couch, a couple of books, a lamp, and a cupboard that doubled as a bathroom. It had a small toilet and a sink in it. I was lucky that Ho Ming let me use the main bathroom when we attended events. It was elegant and enormous. The bath was free-standing in the middle of the room, and the fixtures were a soft gold. I felt like a king inside the main bathroom, but as soon as the reality hit me and I was put back into the shoebox-size room, I felt sick after servicing Ho Ming. Before reaching for the bathroom handle in the estate, I looked around the room. I hadn't noticed last night just how big it was. It was ten times the size of what Ming had given me and even had natural light streaming in from the large windows.

I suddenly felt calm, looking at the shelves lined with books, the chair sitting in the corner, facing out the window with a small tea table beside it. On the table, a notebook lay open and a pen. I wondered if I could use it to document my thoughts and write some poetry. Ho Ming, the best thing he did for me was provide me with novels to read. When I was trapped inside that room for days, I would read the same books repeatedly and teach myself how to understand English. Since I had no schooling experience and barely anyone to talk to, I developed a stutter when frightened. I walked to the table and looked at the notebook. On the first open page was a small note poking out. I took it and scanned the words,
'Milo, keep yourself sane and protected. Write inside of this every day with what happens. Make sure you put times and dates. This is a lifeline that will come in handy later - Patrick'.
I looked down at the notebook and noticed there was one entry already. It was on the night I arrived: 

' || Thursday - 10th - 2000 || Milo has arrived. I am infatuated with him. I will do anything to protect him, to keep him safe. Milo, please hold on.' No signature, but I felt as if it was from Patrick. Secret notes between us; maybe that's how we could foster and grow closer to one another. I closed the notebook and placed it beside the bed. I would write in it this evening and do, as Patrick said, record everything and keep myself sane.

I crossed to the bathroom door, finally turning the handle to see an elegant room covered in white marble. A clawfoot tub sat in one corner of the room, steam from the water slowly rising. There was a free-standing, wet floor shower in the other corner, a large vanity with storage draws below and a massive mirror beside the window. It was beautiful. I walked to the tub and gently placed my foot in, hoping it wouldn't burn. The temperature was perfect; I sat down slowly and let the water engulf my body. I felt my skin softening under the gentle water, causing me to sink lower in the tub. My chin was submerged under the water. I thought about dropping more, covering my entire body in water and never taking another breath. I closed my eyes and felt my mind drifting off. I hadn't noticed how long I had been sitting in the bathtub. The warmth of the water cradled my body in a soft embrace. I felt myself melting, the pain, the hurt, the anxiety, the sickness, just melting into the water and becoming vapours that floated out with the steam into the large marble room. I was violently woken to a hand on the back of my neck, gripping tightly around my throat. My hands gripped the tub's sides, and my body felt confused. Did I like this feeling? Was it enjoyable, or was my brain so terrified to react to the pain as if it were pleasurable? I couldn't turn my head to see who it was, but the hand felt similar to the Tsars. My mouth opened slowly, a hurried breath escaping my lips, "Please?" I begged between my breaths. The hand loosened, and my body dropped back into the tub. Water splashed onto the floor as I rested on the side of the tub. I looked up to see the Tsar standing over me. He looked annoyed. No, it wasn't annoyance; it was almost concern. He knelt, looking deep into my eyes and sighed. "I thought you were trying to kill yourself, Milo," his calm, rational voice, and I suddenly felt a cold shiver run down my spine. Did this man care for me? He hardly knows me. What does it matter if I die? "Please," his hand reached my arm, stroking it gently, "hold on. I will look after you. You must be 16 before I can do anything with you, but I'll look after you." I looked into his eyes. There was a pain in them. My body reacted on its own, my hand reaching for his cheek. I felt my fingers rubbing his stubble softly, my index stroking his cheek, down to his lips, running along with them, softly. I realised he had closed his eyes as I caressed him. He was softer than I imagined, both in his voice and actions. After touching his lips, I brought my fingers, planted a kiss on them, and then back to his lips. He smiled, returning the favour with his fingers. They were rough, working man's hands, full of cuts and calluses, but when his fingers reached my lips and the soft planting of his kiss, I felt a sense of wanting. I wanted him. I wanted to be around this man; I wanted to be beside him, but why? Was it because he took me from Ho Ming and was gentle with me? No forced sex, no dirtiness, no anger, no beatings. Was this the safety I was craving? And what about not doing anything with me until I am 16? That's years away? Will he wait for me for years without touching or seeing another? Can I not expect him to hold back his desires for years? At this moment, I had seen the Tsar in a different light. I did not know the horrors I would get involved with, especially at the hands of this man. Only at this moment, inside that now lukewarm bathtub, with a gently planted kiss upon my lips and his fingers still lingering in front of me, did I fall for the person in front of me, based solely on his actions at that moment, in that bathroom. A mistake, in hindsight, because this man would be the death of me.

The Tsar left. I finished my bath and dressed in the clothing Patrick had laid out for me. It was a white silk button-up shirt, a pair of grey slacks, and black dress shoes. No tie, no coat; it seems casual but formal at the same time? I dressed, leaving the top three buttons undone. I brushed my hair out and looked at myself in the full-length mirror. I felt comfortable in this room. In these clothes, I felt special. I looked at my body. The bruises on my chest were visible if I left the buttons undone. I lifted my hand to my chest and pulled my shirt back to examine where the Tsar had caressed me. I felt my body getting hot just thinking about him. I shook the thought quickly from my mind. I decided to button up and leave the room. However, I had no idea where I was meant to be going. As I turned the door handle, Patrick appeared, opening the door from the outside. Our faces are just inches from one another. I looked into his eyes, they were bloodshot, and a deep bruise formed around his left eye. My body, on instinct, reached for his eye. He winched as my fingers caressed just under his eyebrow. The socket of his eye was deep and puffy. His face was soft, and he turned away from my hand and sighed. 

"We need to go down to the dining hall. Some food is waiting for you; then, we must make our way to the main estate for the introductory meeting." Patrick turned from me, walking ahead and calling back over his shoulder. I did that to him. He must be hurt. I felt ashamed of my actions. For the first time in a long time, I felt my choices hurt someone who didn't deserve it. I followed Patrick around the large house. He pointed out rooms along the way, but I didn't pay any attention. I was engrossed in my thoughts, drowning in guilt. Patrick had stopped just in front of the dining hall, and I walked right into him without realising it. "Ah, I'm sorry. I wasn't paying atten-"my voice trailed off as his arms held my shoulders. He looked down into my eyes, returning that gentle smile of his. "Milo, you didn't do this. Please don't feel an ounce of guilt." Patrick dropped his hands and smiled again, turning his attention to the door and opening it.

I was overwhelmed with the smells. It was incredible. Fresh bread wafting through the doorway, sweet and sour fruit penetrating my nasal; a vast dining hall it was. The table, laid out in the most exquisite silverware, was at least 2 metres long. Down each side were five chairs with high backs and leather seats. At one end, the far end, under a vast archway, sat an oversized leather chair. Beside it is a small table with a crystal ashtray. This was the heads seat, the Tsars. Only one complete place setting was on the table at this time. Patrick walked to it and pulled the chair out for me. I hesitated to sit at first, but the smell of freshly cooked food won over my fear. I sat and looked across the table. Patrick and I were the only ones in the entire room. I felt like we were the only two people in the world. This scene, Patrick and I alone in this dining hall, will be a memory burnt into my brain; long after I die, I will return to this memory. Patrick reached for the glass before me and filled it with juice. I sat, slowly dirking and observing my surroundings. Patrick stood beside me and began to speak. 

"After you finish here, Milo, we must make our way to the main estate."

I looked up at him, "Why?" My voice trembled on my tongue. He smiled; I felt at ease. "The Tsar wishes to introduce you to the business members…." 

"But why? I'm a kid. I know nothing about business?"

"It's more so," he hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should explain or not, "It's not so much about showing you the business but showing the partners what they aren't to touch."

"Is that," I stopped; I already knew the answer, "what happened to you, Patrick?" As his name slipped through my teeth, like oil sliding over water, I felt his hand clasp mine tightly. He shook his head, "No, Milo, not at all." 

Patrick stood again. Knowing we would be in trouble had someone caught us so close, he kept his distance from me. He left me to eat an enormous amount of fresh fruit, bread, and other saviours. I felt safe again. I had sat at the table to the direct right of the head seat. Not on the side where the small table and crystal ashtray sat. I wondered if this were the spot I would remain at each meal. Would other people join us to fill up these empty seats? My mind held so many questions, not knowing that all of them would be answered. By the time Patrick returned, I was utterly stuffed. 

The sunlight was slowly moving around the courtyard, and it must have been after 3:30 pm. How long had I slept, how long had I spent in this house already? Would I be able to stay here forever if it stayed like this? Patrick cleared his throat and opened the dining hall door. Two prominent, bald men approached me. They pulled my chair out for me, and one held my arm. He wasn't exactly gentle as he pulled me toward the front door of the estate. Patrick merely stood by, knowing he couldn't do anything to help me. As the men escorted me to the waiting car, he hung his head in shame. The backdoor flung open, and they pushed me in. I scrambled up, looking at the rearview window as the car started. The men sat in the front, and I looked for Patrick. He stood in the driveway, his head hung in defeat. He glanced up as we pulled out of the courtyard gates, tears streaming down his face. 

What did I miss? What was happening? Where are we going? Why isn't Patrick with me? I felt alone, confused, and uncomfortable. I adjusted myself in my seat and put my seat belt on. The drive felt like it would never end. The sun was slowly dropping behind the tree line that we drove along. I became anxious about where I was being taken, and my mind kept thinking back to Patrick's face, twisted in fear and covered in what looked like tears.

The two men did not speak to me for at least ten minutes. As we rounded a cornered and pulled into a long, vast driveway, the driver looked into the rearview mirror and spoke in a monotone voice,
"The Tsar's expecting you. Don't make him wait. Go inside, turn left and sit in the study." I nodded as if I understood, but I had no clue where I was. As I exited the vehicle, I saw the ominous front doors from yesterday. I was back at the main estate. I remembered the sitting room where I first met the Tsar. I pushed gently on the doors and walked into the house. The men who drove me here disappeared, and I paid them no more thought. I walked into the vast estate. I hadn't noticed how elegant and decorated this place was until I stood in the main hall. I had to lean back on the main doors as a sinking sense of overwhelming fear crippled my knees. I took a deep breath, pushed myself off the main doors and turned left, just like the goons told me. I reached the study door and slowly pushed them open.

End III