𝘼𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣 [ 𝘼𝙐 𝙕𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙘𝙝𝙞 +18 ]

3: Fateful departing

Childe leaned against the wall, shivering from the cold and the pain in his groin, his knees threatening to buckle. He was in an alley, near where he had left the bag with his normal clothes.

"The money..." he gasped, watching the other pull up his pants. Childe straightened his posture, swallowing hard while still panting. The man looked at him, smiling sideways.

"I'm afraid I'm not going to pay," Childe's eyes widened when he heard the other's words, had he heard correctly? He felt the blood boil in his veins. He pulled on his shorts, walking towards the tallest one, trying not to limp.

"Give me my fucking money," he hissed, meeting his gaze. The man clicked his tongue, averting his eyes from the blue ones.

"It's not like he was that good, you know," he began, smiling and looking at him over his shoulder, in a tone Childe couldn't bear. "Your body feels so used that it is hardly pleasant, I will not pay to fuck a dying man."

"Your pig moans weren't saying the same thing a while ago," one punch. Childe fell to the ground, stopping the fall with his forearm, feeling the sharp blow to his cheek, the pain coursing through his face. He gritted his teeth, glancing at the other. "What's up, are you afraid to admit that you like to fuck corpses?" He was kicked again, this time in the stomach, causing him to spit the air out of his lungs, spinning and rolling on the ground. He struggled to his feet, coughing. The man caught his hair, throwing his head back and bringing his face closer.

"Do you want to become one?" He asked, eyes bloodshot. He released him, causing him to slam his forehead against the pavement, letting out a groan. Snowflakes began to fall. The man spat next to him. "A dirty slut claiming and threatening? And what else? You should be grateful that I fucked you in the dead of winter."

A person entered the alley, the noise probably attracted attention. Childe stayed on the ground, unable to get up. His sight was starting to blur, but he forced himself to stay awake. He couldn't stay there, couldn't pass out in a place like that.

"Oh, you're the one from the Striptease Bar!" He did not recognize the voice, but it was slightly familiar. He raised his head slightly, eyes widening in horror. It was the old man who had tried to cajole him into having free sex and whom he threatened with the razor. "I would recognize that orange hair anywhere, what a coincidence!" The old man's face was twisted into a nasty smile. Childe felt afraid? "I still owe you about the razor."

He made a move to grab the knife he was hiding in his shoe, but the man he had previously been with stepped on his hand, causing him to cry out in pain. He gasped, feeling his foot move behind his back, exerting pressure so he couldn't get up. His breathing quickened, listening as the old man approached, panic consuming him. He had stopped feeling cold.

"So you're cocky," said the man who was stepping on him in a mocking tone. "Scum like you should know his place, especially the Snezhnaya slugs."

His head was spinning, as he was turned so that his back was on the ground, face up. He tried to resist, but the man got behind him, holding his arms above his head as the old man ducked between his legs, which he closed. He couldn't be happening to him. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream... But he couldn't. He couldn't help but resist, even if it was in vain. They were going to abuse him in broad daylight, snowing, and in an alley. No one was going to save him. Who would do that, after all? He closed his eyes, noticing how his legs were forcibly separated, against his will, listening as the old man unzipped his pants.

'No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.'

He shook his head, trying to pull away in vain. He heard his laughter, his insults, but he did not understand them. His shorts were slid down, leaving him completely exposed.