Constant Flow

Kyle Masterson

I picked up the morning newspaper as usual, but it's headline caught my attention this time.

Man Found Dead on South Beach Shore: Kyle Masterson was found face down on the shore by bystanders. No leads have been found yet.

Kyle Masterson.

My blood ran cold. I knew that name. I knew the man. Or at least the man he was with me. My policy was don't ask, don't tell. I only relied on the information that I was supplied.

My conversations with them were usually abrupt. They were only interested in my body and how well their money was spent. Sometimes after a few sessions they would talk to me about their bland lives.

The police had no other information on his death. Or they were withholding it. But just seeing his name gave me chills. It made me wonder what he was doing to end up dead.

Kyle was from a prestigious family. One with money to spare. He was a typical all American guy. Who had a scholarship and was playing football for Florida Tech.

My job isn't fabulous. I do it to survive. I have bills and living in Florida in one of the most crowded cities, gave me a harsh insight of the real world.

I'm not proud nor am I ashamed. It is who I am at the moment. My former life was one of pain and degradation. I suppose it lead me to where I am today.

Not everything is rainbows and sunshine. At least not where I was concerned. But I was used to being in the pits of despair.

But I pulled myself out of the hole each and every time I laid down with a man. I scanned the front page again, my eyes fell on Kyle's photo.

He was young. Cut down in the prime of his life. I felt sorry for him and the pain his family must be going through.

My mind went back that place and time, seven years ago when my life changed forever.

Word count: 342