Aurelia Writes

Sage ran.

He could feel a bruise forming on his face where he had been struck. He could hear the man calling after him, “Get back here, I’ll kill you, you fucking whore!” He couldn’t stop, he had to get away, away from the smell, the taste, the sick feeling of hands on him, grabbing him, in his hair, on his throat, forcing him… no! He had to get away, to make it stop, get it out of his head, feelings and memories overwhelming him, he couldn’t see, it was all too much, too much pressure inside of his head. He gripped his hair and pulled, hands shaking as he continued to run. He felt his body bump something, someone yelled at him, but he couldn’t stop, he had to keep running, had to get away.

But they were following him. The hands, the memories, the dark places he didn’t want to go back to. They wouldn’t let him go. No matter how much he fought, how much he ran. They wouldn’t stop. They would never stop. They threatened to pull to the surface to grip him and choke him and drown him. There was only one way left that he knew to fight them back down again.

He took a breath and slowed to a brisk walk. He looked over his shoulder. He didn’t know where he was. There were crowds of people on the city sidewalks, neon lights cutting through the night, echoes of music coming from bar doors left ajar, the scents of cigarettes hanging in the air as he passed them. All of it assaulting his senses. He knew he had to keep moving. Was that man still after him?

But he needed something to make this all stop. Xanax, heroin, even alcohol, something! Something to clear his head and help him escape again. In his pocket was his phone. His hands shook as he unlocked it. He had 5% battery.

“Who… who can I…” His shaking thumb hovered over Ethan’s name. No, he couldn’t ask Ethan for more favors, he owed him enough as it was. And he realized he had just run away from the only way he had left to make money. Slowly he came to the realization of what he had just done.

Money. He had no money. How would he get money now? Why? Why couldn’t he just do what needed to be done? Ethan would be so angry with him, he wouldn’t let Sage get away with it this time. He would hurt him this time, worse than before. He would take him somewhere and force him this time, force him to work off the debt and he would have no choice in how he did it. It would be just like before, back when he was with Derek, he would be locked away and forced to…

No!

He needed to make this stop. Make this all stop.

He scrolled through his phone, stumbling along the sidewalk. Someone shoved him, shouting at him as he didn’t stop, “Watch where you’re going you fucking junky!”

His thumb hovered over Carson’s name.

Carson.

No. Carson was pissed at him and rightfully so. He couldn’t. He shouldn’t talk to Carson ever again. He hurt Carson. He was nothing but a burden on Carson’s life and the source of so much pain. Carson deserved better than him. Sage had done enough and he needed to let it go.

And Carson wouldn’t have what he needed right now anyway.

He scrolled. There was Rory’s name. Rory. Yes, he would call Rory. Rory was a sweet girl, she was always willing to help. She would have something, Xanax maybe. All he needed was a little.

He hesitated. He had no money.

Back to that. How would he get money now. Panhandling? Steal something?

Across the street a group of drunk people laughed.

He flinched. Were they laughing at him? He walked faster as memories threatened to overwhelm him again. Laughter, hands, pain, a scream…

No!

Money. He needed money. But he didn’t have time. He needed to get away from them. He needed to clear his head now!

Rory was a good person. Rory would lend him what he needed. Just a little something to clear his head and he would pay her back. Tomorrow. All he needed was something to get this pressure out of his head and he’d be able to get money. It was all he needed and he needed it now.

With shaking fingers he tapped Rory’s name. He nearly dropped his phone and he raised it to his ear. It rang, once twice, three times.

“Hey it’s Rory. Leave a message or call back later.” Beep. Voicemail.

Sage shook as he hit end call. “No!” Why won’t she answer?

He hung up and opened his text messages. His fingers wouldn’t stop shaking. His phone had 1% battery.

To: Rory

Heyy cn wr meet uop?

He hit send and his screen went black.

“No!” he said out loud. His phone was dead. Did the message go through? It didn’t matter, he needed to charge his phone now.

His charger was back at his room in the hotel. He had to get back there. He looked around. What street was he on? He didn’t know where he was, how long he had even been wandering the streets. He didn’t know which way was back.

He tried to take a breath. He couldn’t breathe. He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing. He tugged on his clothes, hands shaking. He felt his hands in his hair pulling. He couldn’t breathe.

“Hey man, are you ok?”

Someone was talking to him. He opened his eyes to see two men approaching him. He didn’t know them, didn’t know what they wanted from him. He ran.

He couldn’t stop. He didn’t know which way to go but he had to get back, back to his hotel room. Back to safety. Charge his phone. Call Rory again. But he didn’t know which way to go.

He didn’t know how far he got or how long he had been running. His lungs burned. He still couldn’t breathe. He stopped at last to try and catch his breath.

He looked around. He was on a quiet street. It was all houses, no businesses or people. It looked familiar but he felt too disoriented to determine where he was. He gripped his hair and pulled. The pain grounded him a little. He needed to breathe. He needed to stop and figure out where he was so he could get back.

He stumbled onto a stoop. He would sit for a minute and think. Try to breathe. Try to take in his surroundings. Try to realize where he was. Once he did that he could get back to his hotel and charge his phone and call Rory and get what he needed and everything would finally STOP.

He was shaking and he couldn’t stop. He hunched over and buried his face in his knees. His hands gripped the back of his head. He felt the pain of the bruise as his pressed his face into his knees.

That man, the john, the man who had given him this bruise. Where was he? Had he followed him? Was he still coming after him? How far had he run? He tried to think but he couldn’t. Fear crept over him as he remembered how angry the man had been. Surely he would find him, he would come for him. And he was just sitting here. He had to get up, he had to breathe and get up and find his way back to his room.

But he couldn’t move. He was shaking and hyperventilating. That man was coming, coming back to hurt him and to take by force what Sage had promised to give him. And Ethan was coming, demanding his money back from him. And they were coming, the hands, coming to grab him and hold him down. And he was coming. Derek. The one who had taken him away all those years ago, the one who had hurt him and violated him and broken him and would hurt him again…

“Maybe next time you’ll remember who it is that you belong to…”

No! No, no no! He had to get up, had to run. He was all alone with no one to save him and so he had to get up and run. But he couldn’t move. He could only shake and gasp for breath. His eyes burned and his head hurt and his stomach reeled and he just wanted it all to just STOP!

“Sage?”

He froze. Someone was talking to him. Someone who knew his name had finally caught up with him. Someone was here to get him. Someone who sounded like…

“Sage, is that you? What are you doing on my stoop?”

Carson?

Was that really Carson’s voice?

Footsteps approached him. He didn’t look up. He couldn’t.

“Sage, what happened? Are you ok?”

A hand was on his shoulder. He flinched.

“Sage, look at me. It’s ok. It’s just me.”

He gripped his hands in his hair tighter. He shook his head. His face felt wet.

“Look at me, Sage. It’s alright. Take a deep breath.”

He realized that he hadn’t been breathing. He took a breath. He looked up. Under the dimness of the streetlight he looked into familiar green eyes. It really was Carson, on one knee in front of him, brows furrowed and worry written across his face.

But how? He wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to bother Carson anymore. He wasn’t supposed to hurt Carson anymore.

“That’s it,” Carson said. He reached up and took both of Sage’s shaking hands in his own, rubbing his thumbs in small circles on his palms. “Just breathe with me, ok? In, one, two, three; out, one, two, three.”

Sage did. He kept eye contact and followed his directions. He gripped Carson’s hands like they were the only things keeping him alive. He felt tears slide down his cheeks as slowly he managed to steady his breathing.

He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to cry, especially not in front of Carson. He didn’t want Carson to be helping him, he didn’t want to burden him like this, keep forcing him to save him, keep showing himself to being so pathetic and selfish. But with Carson here the darkness was receding, those who were chasing him were slowing down and turning back. The pain in his head was fading. He could feel the air come into his lungs and clarity was returning.

Carson seemed to notice that Sage finally was getting a hold of himself. He offered a gentle smile. He reached up to Sage’s unbruised cheek and gently wiped a tear away.

“There you go, just keep breathing,” said Carson.

Sage nodded and looked away. He didn’t deserve this. Not from anyone, but especially not from Carson. As the anxiety faded shame began to over take him. He took a shuddering breath and more tears threatened to fall. “Thank you, Carson,” he said, letting go of Carson’s hands and readying himself to stand. “I– I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you. I don’t even know how… I need to go.”

Carson gave him a questioning look. “Didn’t you come here for something? Why don’t you come inside?”

Sage shook his head.

Carson sighed. “Sage, it’s 1:00 in the morning. You don’t look so good and I don’t think its safe for you to walk home by yourself right now. Come inside and I’ll make you a coffee. And you can tell me what happened, or not, if you don’t want to. But you should come inside, at least for a few minutes to calm down. Please?” He stood and held out his hand.

Sage looked at him. Worry was written across Carson’s face. Worry and pain. He didn’t want Carson to worry about him. He would do what Carson asked if it meant putting him at ease. He owed him that much.

It was cold and Sage was still shivering.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how stupid he had been to try and leave.

The room had no windows. Sage didn’t know how long he had been there when he finally heard heavy footsteps coming down the basement stairs. He had been brought down there hours before by Derek’s men. He had been chained on the floor in a kneeling position, with his hands cuffed above his head and attached to a chain dangling from the ceiling. His knees hurt and his arms ached. His wrists were irritated from pulling on the cuffs all night.

His heart began to race as he looked up to see Derek entering the room. A single bulb that dangled from the ceiling was switched on, illuminating the room in a soft, yellowish glow.

“Good morning, Sage,” Derek said as he approached. In his hand was a coiled whip.

Sage quailed under his gaze. “Derek,” he said, “let me go back upstairs, please…”

“What were you doing outside last night?”

“I just went for a walk, please Derek­–“

The was a slap across his face, sending his head reeling.

“Do not lie to me Sage, not now. I’m not dealing with your bullshit right now.”

Sage pressed his face into his bicep, gasping and trying to hold back tears, internally pleading with himself not to cry. “Look, Derek, please just take the chains off… Can’t we talk about this upstairs? Please.”

Derek squatted down in front of him, meeting him at his eye level. For a moment he watched Sage and said nothing. Then he reached into the pocket of Sage’s jeans. Sage flinched at the touch.

“What are you…”

Derek removed the wad of bills from Sage’s pocket that Sage had stolen from his wallet earlier, money he planned to use to leave. He held the money up in front of Sage’s face and smirked.

“You know,” Derek said, “I was actually starting to trust you. But then you lie to me, destroy my property, steal from me. And you think you can just leave when you want? After everything I’ve given you, everything I’ve done for you? You would be sleeping in a piss filled ally right now sucking dicks for smack just like your junky whore mom if it wasn’t for me. And this is the thanks I get from you?”

Sage shook his head, “No, that isn’t what… I am grateful Derek, I didn’t mean… I just…”

Sage stopped himself short and froze. Derek had pulled a knife out and was holding it to his throat.

“Shut the fuck up, Sage,” Derek said. “You’ll talk when I fucking tell you to.”

Sage bit his lip, trying his best not to move or shake, not to beg. After a moment, Derek stood, stepping behind him with the knife still in hand.

“Do not move unless you want to be cut.”

Sage did as he was told, barely daring to even breathe. Slowly and with careful precision, Derek cut Sage’s shirt down his back. The slow tearing of the fabric was agony as Sage feared the knife would nick him. He exhaled as he finally heard the knife being sheathed. His relief was short lived, however, as his ruined shirt was ripped from him, leaving his torso exposed to the damp cold basement air.

He knew what was coming next. He had seen the whip coiled in Derek’s hand. Still, he tried to turn his head, to look and see what was happening. Just as he did, he heard a crack and jerked as much as he could in the chains as a line of fire erupted across his back.

Sage yelped in both pain and surprise. “Oh god, fuck! Derek, just wait a–“

Another crack of fire across his back. He gritted his teeth, grunting as he tried to keep in another yelp.

"I told you to shut up.”

Again there was another lash across his back, jerking him forward as he tried to keep quiet. His eyes watered against the pain. He struggled and pulled against his bonds.

“Tell me where you planned to go last night,” said Derek. “You have permission to speak the truth only.”

Sage didn’t answer, trying to breathe through the stinging on his back. The whip had struck him hard. He could feel welts erupting across his back. He had been whipped during sexual play before, but it had never been like this. This was new. Derek was attempting punish him, make him remember this pain. He didn’t want to be hit like this again. But if he admitted to trying to run away, he had no idea what Derek would do next. He felt paralyzed.

There was the sound of a whoosh through the air before the whip came down on his back again, even harder. This time Sage cried out.

“Come on!” Sage shouted in agony and frustration, “I told you I just wanted to get out for a walk!”

It wasn’t a lie, not really. He did just want to get out. Get out to walk away and never come back.

“You were running away.”

“No!”

The whip came down on him again. Two more times, three more times, four more times, too many to count. Each time he cried out, not quite screaming. He continued to struggle, the cuffs rubbing his wrists raw.

It took a few breaths after the barrage of lashes for Sage to realize that Derek had paused. Sage’s back was on fire and he could feel that he was bleeding now, the skin torn open by each lash. He shook, from the pain and stress and fear of what was coming next.

“This is completely pointless,” said Derek. “I already know you were running away. Where were you trying to go? You thought you could start a new life with $150?”

Sage said nothing, realizing how stupid his “plan” sounded when said out loud.

The whip came down on him again. Sage screamed.

“Where were you going, Sage?” He was hit again.

“To the cops? You a fucking snitch, Sage?”

“No!”

Again the whip sliced across his back. “You know snitches get skinned alive, Sage.”

Again he was hit. It was too much.

“I just wanted to go home!” Sage shouted before the whip could come down on him again. “Please, please, I’m sorry, ok? I’m so, so sorry, please forgive me. Please don’t hit me again, it hurts! God, it hurts so bad! I just wanted to go home!”

Sage was sobbing in earnest now. Behind him, Derek was silent. Sage shivered, bracing himself for another hit.

It didn’t come.

For a few minutes, the only sound in the room was Sage’s crying. Finally, Derek said, “This is your home.”

Sage let out another sob. “I know,” he said. “I know that Derek, I know, and I’m sorry. But I just, I wanted to see my family, ok? And you, you don’t let me see them. You don’t even let me call them.”

“Your family doesn’t give a fuck about you, Sage.”

“But I haven’t seen them in years! I just wanted to check on them…”

Behind him, Derek was laughing, “Your junky parents don’t give a single fuck about you, not then, not now. They sold you to me, remember?”

Sage swallowed as tightness was building in his chest. His mom had been the one to introduce Sage to Derek three years ago. Derek had been getting drugs for his parents, and also giving them odd jobs here and there. At the time, Sage had liked Derek. He was older and fun and exciting. Back then, it seemed like Derek could offer him an escape from the hell he had grown up in. And Sage hadn’t realized what was really happening, that he was just escaping from one level of hell to another, and he hadn’t realized he was being “sold.”

Derek had told him this multiple times, usually during a fight or punishment, or just when Derek wanted to bring Sage down, remind him that he owed Derek everything. But sometimes, especially recently, Sage was beginning to doubt if it was really true, that his parents had really “sold” him for a pound of heroin, or $1000, or whatever Derek decided it was depending on the day he was telling the story. He wanted to see his family again to find out the truth.

His parents were fucked up, but they weren’t that fucked up, were they?

Another line of fire suddenly erupted across his back, ripping him out of his thoughts.

“Derek, stop! Please!” he begged, resuming his sobbing with the renewed pain.

Derek ignored his pleas. “The question remains then,” he said, “why would you want to go back to your junky trash family? You do realize they’ll beat and whore you out too, right? But you won’t have protection and you’ll be living in squalor.”

Despite the pain and the fear, something about the way Derek said that ignited a rage inside of Sage.

“You don’t protect me,” he said under his breath.

“What was that?”

Sage didn’t answer.

The lash came down on his back again.

Sage screamed.

“What the fuck did you say, Sage?”

Again the lash came down.

“I said you don’t fucking protect me!” Sage screamed. “Alright?! You don’t protect me! You let strangers hurt me, and I hate it, ok? And you don’t even fucking care… No one cares…” He trailed off as his body wracked with sobs. Derek didn’t care about him, his family didn’t care about him, no one cared about him. Only one person in the world had ever truly cared about him, but like the fuck up that he was, he had ruined it, and that person likely and rightfully hated him now. And now he was here, alone and in pain, with no one to save him.

Please forgive me, Carson.

Maybe this was what he deserved.

Sometimes he wished Derek would just kill him.

Behind him, Derek was laughing again. “God, you are such a fucking pussy, Sage. You are a pathetic whimp. You have absolutely zero talent for anything, you can’t even take a little rough fucking. You are absolutely nothing, you can’t even be a good whore. The easiest job in the world and you are still a failure at it. You’re right no one cares about you, why the fuck would they? You are a worthless waste of oxygen.”

The lash came down again on him. He screamed before sagging in his chains. His wrists were slick with blood from the cuffs. He gasped for breath, his back burning. He could feel tears on his cheeks. There was so much pain in his body, but Derek’s words opened up a pit of despair in his gut that felt even worse. He knew that everything Derek was saying was true.

Behind him, Derek stepped forward. A hand was in Sage’s hair, pulling and wrenching his head back. He moaned as pain ignited again across his back, torn skin being pulled at and stretched as he moved. He winced, meeting Derek’s eyes.

“Nonetheless,” said Derek, “you are mine. You belong to me. I decide where you go, what you do, who you see. If I want you to smile, you will smile. If I want you to bleed, you will bleed. I decide who you talk to, who you fuck. I will give you what you need, and I will take from you what I want. You are nothing but my property, and you deserve nothing of your own. Do you understand me?”

Sage whimpered but said nothing. Derek yanked on his hair harder.

“Yes!” Sage cried, fearing more pain. He just wanted this to end. “I’m yours, Derek, I’m yours. I’m so, so sorry I tried to leave. It was wrong, it was stupid. Please, I’m so sorry.”

Derek smirked down at him before letting go of his hair. Sage dropped his head forward, sagging again in his chains, trying again to breathe through the pain radiating down his back, trying not to be overcome with despair.

He heard chains rattling before he realized Derek was unbinding his legs from the floor. The punishment was over, and he felt himself sighing in relief. Derek reached up and unlocked the cuffs on his wrists and Sage collapsed onto the floor with a cry.

For a few moments he lay there, too exhausted and hurting to do anything else. Slowly, he attempted to push himself up, he knew he had to stand, to walk, get himself out of this horrific basement. Maybe Derek would give him something for the pain, put ointment on his back, let him sleep it off.

Before he knew what was happening his arms were being wrenched behind him, cuffed behind his back. The movement ignited agony throughout his body and he collapsed forward with a cry.

“You have lost house privileges,” Derek said.

Sage looked up at him in confusion.

“You will stay down here indefinitely. You will do what I say without question. You will service every person who comes through that door without complaint.”

As best he could with his arms bound and his body in agony, Sage moved himself into a sitting position. “Wait, you can’t just leave me down here…”

Sage cried as Derek backhanded him across the face.

“You will not tell me what I can and can’t do. You are my property, and I can do what I want with my own property.”

Fresh tears welled up in Sage’s eyes. “But…” he said, “Please Derek, please don’t leave me here.”

“You can’t be trusted to have free rein of the house.”

Sage felt his heart begin to race and he was struggling to catch his breath. Panic was taking him. He couldn’t stay down here in the dark basement, in pain, with open wounds untreated, bound as he was, he couldn’t do it.

“Please, please, I’ll do anything, please!”

“Stay down here and prove to me that you really will do anything, and I’ll consider letting you back into the house. But it will take a while to prove it.”

“But I need something for the pain, please Derek, and for my back, it’ll get infected...”

“I will tell you what you need.”

“At least take the cuffs off! Please I won’t fight, I won’t try to escape, I promise. I’ll be good. I’ll be good for you, for anyone, I’ll do whatever you want. I don’t need the cuffs, please!”

Derek made for the door.

“No!” Sage was frantic, “Derek please! I’m yours, I’m yours, I should be with you! Please don’t leave me like this, please!”