How dull. Everything about this place is dull. Even the psychiatrist herself was incredibly boring. She didnt even speak. She only sat there. Staring at me.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked quietly.
"What a nice boy," she said with a plastered on, fake smile "The girl in here before spoke to me for the first time today, and may I say she was incredibly rude."
"Well I don't blame her if you were staring at her like you staring at me." I mumbled.
"What was that?" She said, her voice dripping with fake cheer.
I sighed. "Nothing."
"So how about you tell me about why your here... Uh...." She said while riffling through her paper.
"Luke," I supplied. "Luke Hemmings."
"Right. Luke. I knew that." She said with another smile.
"Well I'm here because... I uh... I see... Things. And hear things. That... That aren't there." I stammered.
She nodded. "Care to elaborate?"
"Well," I began, "I have been hearing... Things. Voices. Whispers. Sometimes shouts. Saying things like 'your gonna rot.' Or 'you'll burn in hell' or sometimes they just repeat my name over and over and over. And I see things to. Especially in the wee hours of the morning. Ill see corpses or, blood on the walls, or just see a shadow move." I stopped for a breath.
"I want it to go away. I want the voices to stop!" I said/shouted.
"Shhh." She cooed. "Itll be okay Luke. I have here something that'll make you feel better." She revealed a syringe from the pocket of her slacks.
"What- what is that?" I scrambled up the couch trying to put distance between us.
"Hey it's alright. This is just an anti-psychotic medication. I'm giving you the shot today because it'll take affect more quickly, but I have some pills for you to take from now on." Mrs. Thompson calmly replied.
"Will- Will it make the voices stop?" I asked quietly.
"Yes. Then the voices will go away as never come back. As long as you stay on schedule with your medicine."
---------------------
I walked out of the office with the drugs in my system and a medication bottle in my hand. Silence. No shouting voices. No demons to chase me. Just silence. Why I haven't had peace since.... Well. I suppose I've never had peace.
I grew up as a sex slave. I don't know anything other than that. I don't know when my birthday is. I don't know what my real name is. I don't know how old I really am. I don't know what state I'm from. All I know is all my life I lived in this empty warehouse in... I think it was Columbus, Ohio.
Ages 1-6 I was just fed and told to shut up and sleep. I never had any friends or family. Just the burly men with guns who force fed me hard bread, and all the little boys and girls there subjected to the same thing.
7-12 I was forced to clean up after everyone and go out on the street and market the business. It was absolutely awful. Back then I didn't know how to read or write. Only talk. And I didn't do that very well either. So imagine a scrawny, twelve year old boy, walking the streets of Columbus, forced to advertise a sex slave business.
At age 13 was when I was sold. I remember the auction. There were 12 boys all my age lined up on a stage in a different warehouse. This one was completely the same as the one I grew up in, only it was devoid of children other than all of us on stage. There were women, all covered in tattoos and piercings with breath so rancid you could smell it ten feet away.
The greasy auctioneer counted all his money with greedy eyes and fingers as we were marched away with our new 'owners.' That night once I arrived at my owners house she gave me my name. The blonde said to me in a slurred voice. "Your name is gonna be.... Luke. Yeah that's a sexy name." I rather not describe to you what she did to me in that filthy shit hole.
All ill say is I still have terribly vivid nightmares. That same night after the whore fell asleep I escaped. I ran and ran for one week and eventually I made it here. That when I met Ash.
My phone buzzed in my pocket startling me from my reverie. It was none other than Ashton.
Ash: Are we still hanging out at your house tonight?
I texted back a quick 'yeah'. And continued walking.
I was a filthy, small, weak, blue eyed mess. I had made it here to Chicago, and collapsed on the first door step I saw. At 7:00 in the morning I was nudged awake by a little foot. I looked up to see a boy. He was about fifteen years old with curly brown hair falling into his brownish green eyes. "Mom," he called back into the house, "Come here." The rest is history. Ashton and his mother took me in. They gave me clothes, real food, even a shower (which at the time I didn't even know what a shower was). Ashton's mother even payed for me to go to school.
They gave me everything. And I will never be able to repay them honestly.
Sooner than I had expected I arrived at my home. It was small. But large enough for me. It is painted a nice navy blue with a white front porch and door. Inside there is two bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen, And a living room. It's a cozy little home.
I opened the door and immediately saw Ashton Irwin. He turned to the sound of me closing the door. Ash leaped from the couch and ran over to me. "Hey how did the office visit go?" He said with a smile.
Ashton has always been my beacon of light in the dark. I couldn't live without him. "Well Ash, your idea worked. They are gone."
