Six
Idon’t understand the skin trade.
No, that’s a lie. I may only be fourteen but I do understand the money involved. The coercion. The desperation.
What I don’t understand is why it has to be this way.
There are plenty of desperate women who feel like the only way to earn a buck is to sell their body. Women who will give away pieces of themself to put food on the table or a roof over their head.
I just can’t work out why it can’t be voluntary. Don’t get me wrong, many of the women under the Viper’s control ended up here because they chose this life… up to a point.
But they don’t get to leave.
I look at them when I come to pick up the take.
I feel bad about the amount of money they’re putting into Vito’s hands, which leaves them with a pittance.
They’d earn so much more if they did this purely for themselves.
Not that I’m naive enough to believe it’s that easy.
I know what happens to women who try to go it alone on Vito’s patch, and it ain’t pretty.
I see the defeat and desperation on the gaunt faces of the women who live their lives in Viper’s flesh trade. The sickly gauntness of their emaciated bodies, often battered by the johns, ravaged by drugs, and bruised by life. There’s no protection for them here.
Addiction is rife. So much of what they earn goes straight back into the Viper’s pocket for the drugs they buy with their meagre wage. Drugs they’ve been plied with to keep them conditioned. To keep them trapped.
Drugs they take to forget the pit of misery and despair they’ve fallen into.
None of these women look healthy. Not after they’ve been here any length of time, anyway.
It doesn’t take long for the rot to set in.
For the dependency to take over. For the misery of hopelessness followed by the oblivion of opiates to become their whole life.
Until they’re just a dried-up husk waiting for the blessed absolution of death, which rarely comes too soon.
My eyes find a blonde girl who reminds me a little of Aspen.
She’s new. Young. Maybe only four or five years older than me.
She still has that glow of youth and health, and it makes me sad to know I’ll watch it ebb away.
Fast. I already know how popular she’ll be, with her glossy hair, unblemished skin, and pretty features.
I want to tell her to get out. To run, but I know it’s probably already too late.
The thought makes my stomach churn, and I can’t stop my gaze from flicking her way again and again as I make the rounds. How did she end up in this shit pit? Surely she could have done something more with her life?
My guts roil again. I’ve heard rumors that some of the younger girls are trafficked.
It makes me want to puke. What’s happened to me is bad enough.
To think of a young girl being kidnapped and forced into prostitution makes everything I deal with pale by comparison.
I’ve seen the stuff that happens in this place.
I wish it was different. I wish I could do something about it.
In my head, if the Viper just treated the women right, made sure they were healthy, protected, had decent conditions and better pay, they’d be happy, and he could charge more, making up for the extra wages.
He wouldn’t lose money getting them drugged up, and the johns would happily pay better money for better girls. It’s a win-win.
I’m so lost in my thoughts I don’t notice Vito arriving. But he notices me, and that’s always a mistake.
“See something you like, boy?” he asks, his own eyes zeroing in on the blonde girl as he licks his slimy lips.
His focus makes me shudder. I know it won’t bode well for her, but I try to keep my expression neutral and shrug. “Just memorizing the newbies.”
“You know, it’s probably time we broke you in. How old are you now? Fifteen, sixteen?”
“Fourteen,” I tell him, feeling all kinds of awkward, which is unusual for me. I’ve become carefully numb to most everything.
He eyes me critically, and I figure he’s cataloguing all the ways I’ve started bulking up.
I’m already five ten, and I spend as much time as I can working out and studying mixed martial arts so I can protect myself.
I’m aware I look older than my years, but then I lost that youthful look of innocence most kids possess a long, long time ago.
I’ve seen the kinds of things most people don’t in their entire life.
It’s aged me. Just like it’s aged the women here.
The way it’ll age the girl Vito’s licking his lips over before she’s even out of her teens.
He snaps his fingers at her, and she comes trotting over. I can already see the fear and apprehension in her eyes. It makes me want to look away, but I already know not to give the Viper too much ammunition. Finding weaknesses is Vito Rossi’s catnip.
“You need to take care of Kaiden,” he tells her, and her eyes cut to me with a hint of relief.
“What? N…” I manage to stop myself from verbalizing the denial, but Vito’s already watching me through beady, narrowed eyes.
“You’re not saving yourself for the Don’s whore’s kid, are you?” he asks with a full-on belly chuckle. “I know you spend a lot of time with her.”
He does? Fuuuck!
“Of course I do.” Denial will only make things worse. “She’s the only person my age around the compound.”
Not quite true, but the Don’s son, Mika, who’s four years my junior, has less freedom than a nun in a convent.
The only interaction we have is during the MMA training I’ve managed to wangle my way into.
I used to hide out and watch his lessons, practicing the moves.
Should have known the wily old Japanese guy knew I was there.
He did me a solid and told Don Salvatore that Mika needed someone his own age to spar with.
Since Sal was always really, weirdly, protective of Mika, I became the obvious candidate since no outsiders are allowed into the compound.
Master Yutaka even managed to make it sound like a benefit to the organization, having me so well-trained.
Of course, Vito didn’t like it one bit, but it was beyond his control. And that made me love it even more.
Mika and I have a mutual respect borne of our training; hell, the kid can trounce me, despite being younger and smaller.
I like him, but we never have the opportunity to spend time together outside our classes.
He has two older cousins, Francesca - Cesca for short - and Safia.
They seem nice enough, but they might as well live in a different world.
But even if they were around, I’d still choose Aspen. I still get that giddy feeling in my stomach when I look at her. I think I always will.
Despite my denial, Vito gets right up in my face. “Helene’s kid will never be for you.”
It sounds like a warning. One that has alarm bells ringing in my head.
“You don’t imagine I’d ever allow you even the slightest access to the Don, do you?”
I don’t understand his problem. It’s not as if Sal ever has anything to do with Aspen. But I know instinctively that our friendship needs to become a lot less visible from here on out.
“Stay in your lane, kid. This little slut is far more your type. Let me give you a demonstration.”
The Viper grabs the blonde girl by the hair. “Suck me off, bitch,” he growls as she sinks obediently to her knees. “Get me nice and hard so I can fuck your pretty ass.”
She does as she’s told, but I can’t help notice the way her hands tremble as she fumbles with his belt, and I’m desperate to look away. I don’t want to see this. I don’t want to have anything to do with what’s going on here. It makes me sick to my stomach.
I close my eyes against the sight of Vito’s shriveled, flaccid dick. Jeez, I don’t need that sight in my memory. But of course, the Viper has different ideas.
There’s a loud crack, followed by a pained yelp, and my eyes fly open to see the girl has tears in her eyes and a distinct red handprint blooming on her cheek.
“If he ain’t got his eyes glued to you sucking me off, then you aren’t doing it right, whore,” he snarls, a gloating look in his eyes as they both look my way.
Her face pales, so the slap mark is even more distinct, and her big blue eyes swim with sorrow and fear.
“Watch!” Vito demands. “Watch and learn.”
There is nothing this bastard can teach me that I ever want to absorb, but I understand my dissent will only make things worse for this poor girl, so I set my gaze just over their shoulders and try to zone out everything that transpires.
But the way he drags her up and pushes her over the back of a crappy old armchair makes me jolt.
I jerk at every welt he lands over her naked backside with his belt, even as I try to drown out the sound of her sobs.
I want to run. I want to vomit. I want to stop this, but all I can do is watch helplessly as the Viper starts rutting into her like the animal he is… like the animal he’s forcing her to be.
When he’s done, he pushes her away so she falls to the floor with a yelp and settles himself in the chair like he’s about to watch a show.
What I’m unusually slow to understand is that I’m the show.
His next words echo in my ears, and I die a little inside. “Now it’s your turn,” he says, his voice oddly tranquil, making it so much more terrifying. “And she’s gonna show you just how good she can be, aren’t you, Kitty?”
A panic builds inside me I don’t really understand. “B-but…”
“What, you think she’s not good enough, Kaiden? Do I need to beat her bloody to make sure she gets it right?”
Kitty whimpers, and her big eyes plead with me. We both know what will happen if the Viper isn’t happy.
“I - no, but I’ve never…”
“First time for everything, kid,” Vito chortles as if all this amuses him. Hell, it probably does, fucking sick bastard. “But Kitty here will look after you, and if she doesn’t…”
He leaves the threat unsaid, as he narrows his eyes at Kitty and jerks his head in my direction, a silent gesture for her to follow his command, but we both know what he means.
Refusal would be catastrophic for both of us.
The bottom falls out of my stomach, an emotion very close to defeat pressing in from every direction.
Kitty crawls, naked and clearly afraid, to where I reluctantly sit, then stiffly levers her abused body so she straddles my knees.
She leans forward, and I keep my eyes glued to her face as everything inside me trembles and my soul cries out in pain. Not just for me, but for her, too.
She stares at me for a long moment until Vito gets impatient. “Get on with it, you useless ho.”
But in those short seconds, something as profound as it is complex passes between us.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers in my ear on a strangled sob, real sorrow bleeding into her voice as I resign myself to what’s about to happen.
It shouldn’t surprise me, really. It’s not like I’ve ever had any control over anything that’s happened in my life.
And even though Aspen and I are both still young, I guess in my dreams I’ve always imagined she would be my first.
I should know better by now than to believe in dreams. Dreams are for people who have a choice.
But that’s not me, and neither is it this equally trapped girl named Kitty.