Ellis
The metal around his wrists clinked against the bed frame. blinked at the ceiling, trying to make the water stains stop moving. The drugs weren't as heavy today. He could almost think.
Almost remember.
Days... weeks? How long? Time blurred between needle pricks and rough hands and... and...
He wanted to cry, but there didn't seem to be any tears left. Maybe they'd dried up somewhere between the first man and the tenth. Or the twentieth. He'd stopped counting. The drugs made everything hazy, made it almost bearable. Almost like it was happening to someone else.
Think of Gabriel instead.
Gabriel would be looking for him. Gabriel had to be looking for him. Unless... unless he thought had run. Left him. The thought made his chest tight. Or maybe... maybe Gabriel wouldn't want him anymore. Not after this. Not after so many men had...
Who would want him now?
No. Focus. Gabriel's hands. Gabriel's voice. The way he said 'mon coeur' like was precious. Before he was ruined. Before he was nothing but used goods again.
Somewhere nearby, water dripped. The sound echoed oddly, as if it were coming from far away. A warehouse, maybe? The air smelled of rust and river mud. Voices drifted through the walls, Paw-Paw French, the dialect of his childhood. Of the streets and the docks. Of people who stayed in shadows and moved things that shouldn't be moved.
His body ached. Everything ached. But the drugs made it distant, made it someone else's pain. Someone else's body being...
Think of Gabriel. Think of Gabriel. Think of Gabriel. Even if Gabriel would never touch him again.
The door creaked. Footsteps. turned his head away from the light spilling in, but not before catching glimpses: concrete walls, metal shelving, other beds.
"Holy shit." A whispered voice. Male. Young. "I think Lottie is looking for you."
A flash went off, searing white behind ' closed eyes.
Then darkness again, but not before he caught the kid's face - barely more than a teenager, looking terrified.
Lottie?
The thought slipped away as new footsteps approached. The familiar sting of a needle. The world began to fade, but clung to two names now.
Gabriel.
Lottie.
Then nothing.