Begin

My throat was dry, and my eyes hurt. It was still early; dawn was only peeking through the blinds. I felt like I'd been hit by a truck; my body was aching. I had been carrying so much for so long that being with Emmet, releasing all that pain and emotion, took a toll on my body. I stirred a little, hoping my movements would get his attention. I reached my hand across the abyss between us, praying he was still there. It was empty. I sat up, looking desperately for him in the room. Any trace would do. He left again, even though he said he wouldn't.
I felt foolish again.

I pulled the sheets to my chest and clung tightly to them. His scent was all over them, engulfing my throat and making me dizzy. The bathroom door opened, steam filling the room, and there he was. He was dripping slightly, his hair still wet, water droplet's catching on his skin. I felt my cheeks flush just looking at him. His body was scarred; some wounds looked deeper and older. Once, in particular, caught my eye from the left side of his chest, across to just above his hip. It looked like a seatbelt on his body. It was a dark, almost burnt colour. My curiosity grew; what happened to him? Why is he covered in so many scars? Was this man as dangerous as he makes out to be? His eyes finally caught mine, and he smiled. "Did I wake you?" His voice was hoarse and dry. It made my ears tingle. I shook my head, still holding the sheet to my chest. He chuckled in his throat, and I could hear his footsteps coming closer. He put his hand atop my head and kissed me. My body felt on fire again. His lips stopped beside my ear; his breathing was slow and steady. "I didn't leave you as I promised."

"I know; I just felt lonely…."

His voice rang in my ear, shaking my entire body. He spoke in a low, almost growl. "I need to go; it'll be troublesome if I stay any longer." 

I turned my head to look at him, my lips inches from his. I wanted to say anything to keep him here, but nothing came to mind. His eyes were cold again. I felt myself becoming more and more attracted to him with each passing second. I closed my eyes, hoping he'd understand that I needed his kiss. I felt his hand reach my cheek, his thumb gliding over my skin softly. He held my chin steady, his thumb pushing my lips apart. I felt his body become heavy on top of me and his lips pressed upon mine. My arms reached around his neck, grabbing desperately to him and holding him closer. Even if it was for a second longer, I needed to feel his heart beating against mine. He kissed my lips, cheek, and neck, stopping just below my ear again. His breath was rapid, almost panting against my skin. I felt my body tingling.

"I really have to go." He whispered, the sound piercing into my skull. "I'll visit you later,"

"How much later?" My tone was whiny, like a child's. He chuckled and lifted himself off me. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I could see the shape of his back, all the marks and cuts, and the muscles. His back was defined, toned, like a marble statue. Suddenly, I found myself throwing my arms around the back of his neck, nuzzling my body into his back. My arms dropped down his body, resting lazily on his chest. He lifted his head back, and I put my head on his neck. I buried my face deep in his jugular, feeling his pulse under my lips. Raising his hand to his forehead and sighed. He turned his head and kissed me. Knowing he'd be leaving, it felt bittersweet, but I couldn't stop him. He rose from the bed and turned to face me. He lay me down gently, covering my body with the soft sheets and kissed my forehead. 

"I have to go. I'll be back in a couple of weeks."

"Weeks?" I interjected

"Yes, weeks, I have to go to Europe."
"Take me!" My hand raced to his, pulling him closer.

He sighed again, only this time it was frustration rather than pleasure. "I can't, Milo. It's too dangerous. Besides, you've got Patrick, and you need to learn the ropes." I let my hand drop back to the bed and rolled onto my side, facing away from him. He chuckled again. I know I'm acting like a spoilt brat, but I don't want him to go. I shook my head. What the fuck is wrong with me. He paced to the other side of the room and rummaged through draws. He came back to the bedside and knelt beside it. His hand reached for my back, but I pulled away; I didn't even mean to; I just didn't know anymore. He sighed, and I could feel his eyes burning holes through my back. He leaned over me, kissed my forehead and left without a word. I heard the door click as he left, and suddenly I felt more alone than I ever thought possible. I sat bolt upright and panicked. I looked around the room. He was gone. Next to the bed was a small note and a shirt. I reached for the note; my hands were shaking. I read it in the dim light of the dawn. 

Milo, I'll only be gone for a couple of weeks. In that time, Patrick and others will begin your training and explain what I expect of you. I left you my shirt, wear it often if you miss me. Just know I'll be missing you. 

I grabbed the shirt and held it to my chest, the soft material rubbing against my skin. I took a deep breath in, savouring the smell that was Emmet. I guess he was serious about me learning the ropes and being a part of his life. But, what would I even be learning to do? I don't even know what he does for a living. I let my mind wander before I slowly drifted back to sleep. 

By the time I had woken, the sun was already high. I felt warm and safe in this room. I held Emmet's shirt close to me and stirred in the bed. I hadn't been called upon yet; wasn't it time for me to be trained? I climbed out of bed and headed toward the bathroom. Showering will help me wake up and collect my thoughts. Just as I approached the shower, the bedroom door opened. It was Patrick. He held a pile of clothes. I looked at him and smiled softly. He nodded and put them on the table beside the door, promptly leaving me alone. I hadn't realised until I walked past the mirror in the bathroom that I was completely naked and covered in bite marks, especially around my nipples. My face got hot, and my cheeks burned to look at the state Emmet had left me in. I felt something hot dripping from between my legs. Was I this turned on just by thinking about him? I shook my head and had a shower. There were more important things to deal with than sexual desires right now. I'm not sure when; maybe it was last night, but I suddenly wanted to do anything to help Emmet, especially if it meant I could stay by his side. But more than that, it was so he would finally accept me and ravage the ever-living-fuck out of me. Not until I was 16, however. A sudden wave washed over me. I was out for six months; it was now almost February.

I missed Christmas, and Halloween and, my birthday. I was 15 now, which meant a year of waiting. How on earth will I survive a year? Ho Ming had his way with me regardless of age. Why was Emmet so different? I turned the water off and dressed. I had no concept of time, but I knew it must have been mid-February because the snow was slowly melting away on the ground outside of the estate. I exited the bedroom and went to the dining hall, the only other room I knew in this house. I sat in the usual spot beside the head of the table and began to eat. I must have been there an hour before Patrick finally came to find me. He looked tired; his eyes were dark. He smiled, though and stood beside me. 

"Did you rest well, sir?" 

"Sir?" I laughed, "No need for formalities, Patrick."

He chuckled and handed me a file. "Training begins later; read over this, and I'll discuss the schedule with you."

"When is Emmet coming back?" My curiosity was killing me. Patrick sighed. "The Tsar said possibly three weeks, but it all depends."

"Depends on what?" My tone was cold. Patrick knelt beside me, looking softly into my eyes.

"This is just a part of the business, I'm afraid. I can't give you any more details." I felt my lips pressed into a pout, and Patrick smiled, ruffling my hair softly. "Don't overthink this. The Tsar is very loyal. I'm sure he'll return safely." Loyal? Why would he mention loyalty? I shrugged and kept eating. The file, sitting beside me, beaconing me to read it. I lifted open the first page and began reading. 

Magnesium Industries; Corporate Building and Construction est.1990
Emmet Petrov: Founder and CEO; is responsible for the corporation's entire operations and reports directly to the chair and the board of directors. 

Hugo Fredrickson: Construction Manager and Executive Director; the executive director responds to the board of directors. 

Scarlett Thomas: Chief Information Officer; As companies increasingly rely on technology systems to run, the chief information officer fills an important role.

Marvin Peterson: Chief Operating Officer; Responsible for the corporation's operations, the COO looks after issues related to marketing, sales, production, and personnel.

The rest of the document was more information on the company's daily public-facing actions, the buildings created, and their investments. It was squeaky clean, like looking at a well-rehearsed script for a film. Nothing seemed out of place within the document, and all the investments seemed above board. I felt reassured, looking at the facts and figures of their investment portfolio and feeling a sense of safety. Was Emmet just an ordinary businessman after all?

I flipped through the document and noticed they listed vaccines in it. One was for a Chief Finical Operator. Was that what I was being trained for? I knew nothing about finances or companies; how could I take such a position? I scoffed at myself; how could I think so highly that I would even be given a job like that? Like a servant, I'd be better suited as a cleaner, call boy, or lower. I finished eating and thought about returning to my room, but something deep in my gut told me to go to the room at the end of the hall, the one I was taken to when I finally woke. I pushed my chair in as I left and took the file to the second floor. I looked at the silver door handle and hoped that Emmet would be inside again, waiting for me if I turned it. I gripped it tightly and turned it. But this time, it was locked tight. It wouldn't budge, no matter how many times I turned it. I was puzzled; what was in there? Patrick called for me from downstairs, and I snapped back to reality. Clutching the file tightly, I ambled along the long hallway and found Patrick at the bottom of the stairs. I smiled sweetly, and he nodded. He gestured for me to follow him, and so I did. We walked through the estate, and he mentioned its history, but my mind was wandering, thinking of Emmet, what he was doing, and where he was. We reached a room near the front door. It was an office decorated nicely and warm with sunlight. It was a little dusty, like it hadn't been used in months. Patrick sat at a large pinewood table and pointed to a seat beside him. In front of us were hundreds of files, all with dates and finances on them. Along the walls were boxes and boxes with dates. "The first job we must do is organising these files and putting them into the correctly dated boxes" his tone was low and commanding. I nodded; it didn't seem that hard. While we worked, the soft sound of classical music was playing in the house. It was a piano, and it was beautiful. I felt at peace. Was this what my new life would be like? Patrick spoke of the business, how it began and their building achievements. All things I read within the file, but something felt too good to be true about this 'business'. Patrick noticed my expression and gave me a reassuring pat on the head. By the time we had finished, the sun had long set, and my stomach growled. Patrick laughed. "I hadn't noticed the time, but we've made good progress today. Let's stop." 

"Okay," I said sheepishly. "Can I have dinner in my room?"

Patrick nodded. "I'll get someone to bring you something." He stood, opening the door for me and waiting to exit. He locked the office door behind him as I left and walked off towards what I assume is the kitchen. I wandered through the sweeping house. I hadn't noticed how large it was until I stood in the first floor's lobby, looking up. It was beautiful, old wooden beams hung from the ceiling, and all the fixtures were silver. I walked to my room, hoping that by some slight chance, Emmet would be there. I opened the door and found someone new, someone young, sitting in my chair, reading my notebook. I cleared my thought as I entered, and the person put the notebook down. 

"I see, a new pet." Their voice was low. I closed the door behind me and leaned against it. "Don't worry, I'm like you, disposable." As their words cut through the tense air, they turned. It was a young boy. His face was gaunt and pale. Locks of dark brown hair fell down both sides of his face, and his eyes, a piercing blue, looked at me with disdain. He stood from the chair and walked toward me. He was taller than I was, his body skinny, and his arms dangled beside him. He reached my face, stopped inches from it and grabbed my chin. "You are a looker, though." He lifted my chin and turned my face as he spoke. I felt uneasy with him. My throat was tight, and I couldn't talk. He scoffed, letting go of my chin and stepping back. "I'm Thomas, 17; I've been here for four years now." He paced to the bed and sat, patting beside him for me to sit. I pushed off the door and sat beside him. He smiled, it wasn't exactly friendly, but I felt more at ease. He sighed and flopped back onto the bed.
"You'll need friends at a pace like this; you won't survive without them."

"I have Patrick."

"Patrick? Oh, you mean the dog," he laughed a little. The dog? What on earth did he mean? 

"I haven't heard his real name in ages." 

"Why is he called the dog?" I asked softly. Thomas sat up again, and a grin appeared on his face, "Because when Emmet says sit, he sits, when he calls for him, he comes, when he commands him to kill, he does so without hesitation, just like a dog." My face twisted a little in pain; kill? Patrick killed people. Thomas shook his head, "You still have no idea where you are, do you?" I shook my head in response, "The Tsar, Emmet, I should say, is a great liar; just be prepared to get hurt by him," his hand reached for my wrist, the one broken by Emmet, "then again, he already has, right?" I pulled my arm from his in fright. He laughed, more of a chuckle than a humorous laugh, as if to say I was a fool.

"Emmet didn't do this on purpose, and it was my fault, to begin with, I, I" my stutter returned from the tension in the situation. Thomas threw himself back on the bed in a roar of laughter. "Oh man, that is funny" His tone was sarcastic, "he's already brainwashed you so much. Has he told you he missed you yet? That he'll be thinking of you always? That he wants to be with you and only you, in every aspect," he paused, bringing his hand to his forehead, "what was the line? I want you beside me in every aspect, not just in secret or something?" My stomach dropped. That was precisely what Emmet had said to me. Almost word for word. I felt my eyes welling up with tears; who was this kid? He sighed, "Don't worry; he told me that too. Then when I turned 16, and we finally had sex, he threw me away and replaced me with someone else." 

"Who?" I asked without even realising it.

"Some new boy, he died around seven or eight months ago." I felt my tears begin to fall. I couldn't help it. I was so overwhelmed I couldn't stop. I began gasping, feeling like my lungs were filled with sand. Thomas sat beside me and stroked my head softly. On pure instinct, I rested my head on his shoulder and held his chest, crying into it. He hummed softly, the tune I heard early in the day, and I felt safe again. 

"Don't overthink it. I really didn't mean to upset you. I just thought you should know that you aren't the first and probably won't be the last," he wrapped his arms around me and held me tight against his body, "then again, after reading that diary the Tsar left you, maybe you are different." A sudden wash of relief engulfed me. If Thomas was his ex-lover and thought I could be different, maybe the past didn't matter. I collected myself, pulling my body from Thomas and looking at him. He smiled; it was a genuine smile this time. He reached for my cheek, wiping my tears just like Patrick had done.
"Don't cry; he's really not worth it."

"But I care for him, and he cares for me?" 

Thomas sighed, "I'm sure it feels that way now, but it wouldn't surprise me if you're just another pet." 

"A pet?" I was curious, what did he mean?

"A pet, you know, a rent boy, a sex slave? Has no one told you what this place is yet?" I shook my head. Thomas let his hand fall from my face and stood before me. "We are slaves. The business plans you saw are all a front. This place is a trafficking ring for kids to be sold off to people and used however they want." I covered my mouth, holding back a godawful guttural moan of pain. Thomas knelt, resting his hands on my knees. "I told you, you need friends here. I'll show you the ropes and help you out, okay? I know Emmet better than most, and I've been in this place nearly four years now." 

"Are you stuck here? A slave?"

"More or less," His tone was softer, "I'm more of a caretaker now than a slave, but I'm still stuck. I wish I could get out, but the only way out is dying." Thomas noticed the shock on my face and patted my knee reassuringly before standing. He began walking toward the door, turning back to me, "Milo, I'll help you if you help me. What do you say?" I looked at him, nodding through my tears; he smiled again and turned the door handle. "I'm sure you have lots of questions, but for now," as he opened the door, Patrick stood on the other side with a tray of food, "rest, eat something nice." Patrick looked confused, seeing Thomas appear in front of him. Patrick took a step sideways and allowed Thomas past first. Thomas looked at him, disgust filling his eyes, "Good evening, dog." Patrick bowed, "Good evening, sir". With that, Thomas disappeared down the sweeping hall and out of sight. Patrick entered the room, placing the tray on the table beside the bed. I felt confused and guilty, but I didn't understand why? 

"I see you've met Thomas," his tone was sharp, "please don't let his twisted words hurt you." Twisted words? Was he lying? I looked up at Patrick, and he smiled. "Whatever he's told you, if you want the truth, I am happy to provide it." The first question that came to mind was if he was Emmet's lover or not?

"Was he really with Emmet before me? Was there someone else before that who died? He told me what Emmet said to me word for word. That can't be a lie!" I felt myself becoming enraged. Patrick just stood still and sighed. 

"Yes, Thomas was previously with the Tsar. However, Thomas has a habit of making a lot of trouble, and the Tsar couldn't handle it anymore." 

Trouble, I thought, what kind of trouble? "The boy previously with Emmet did die, but I'm sure Thomas left out how he died? I nodded. "Well, Thomas pushed him down the staircase. His neck snapped on the third step from the bottom, and he died. Thomas watched the whole thing, not calling for help until hours later once the blood had pooled around the boy." I felt my entire body tremble. Thomas killed him? I shook my head, "I don't believe it. Thomas said he wanted to help me!"

"Help you or get rid of you? I bet he told you the only way out is to die, right?" 

"He did," my eyes began to fill with tears again. 

"Sound's just like what Thomas would say. Be careful, Milo; he is an excellent manipulator of situations to favour himself." 

"Thomas mentioned something else, but now, I'm not sure if it's true?" I felt my strength fading with each passing minute, "Thomas said this place is like a slavery house?" Patrick sighed again and sat beside me. "I had hoped to explain this to you in a nicer way than that, but, yes, simply put, it is like a slavery house." He was calm while explaining the business and the 'pet' 'owner' relationship deals and how they sold children off to wealthy and powerful people for favours. He explained that his job was training the pets to be safe and use their bodies and minds with manipulation rather than strength and that he felt guilty for sending children to be slaves, sexual or otherwise. I felt so overwhelmed my body collapsed. I fell backward onto the bed and passed into darkness. I was afraid. Afraid of what would happen to me if I woke up. Would I be sold again to someone like Ho Ming? I couldn't bear that again, and I'd rather die.  

End VII