AGALMATOPHILIA

_-:41:-_

"Hey Don? We got a bleeder here,"

His knees collide with the concrete floor, dirty used cigarette butts and grime cakes the ground, those knees stained a permanent filthy, bloody rust colour from their time attached to the horrors under foot, literally.

Josh, small fragile tween Josh, genuflects before the man he knew as Don.

Everything came through Don, the drugs, the dolls.

Josh had grown up with the man, often times his father would send him down to Don with a cart full of perfectly crafted dolls.

He'd spent hours watching his father craft those creepy little toys, the backs removable in order to store at least an ounce of cocaine or any other narcotic Don needed.

A mule Josh had been called plenty of times, and now what a mule he was.

Don, a tall, terrifying man with bright red hair, idly washes his gaze over Josh, almost dismissing him until he spies the pool of blood collecting just underneath the shaking child at his feet.

"What happened to him?"

Josh so desperately wants to speak up, it's the guards he wants to scream, they touch me Don, and I can't carry anymore drugs, but instead Josh keeps his tiny mouth shut in trepidation.

"Made his delivery, came back like this,"

Don, a hardened criminal who had no time for kiddy fiddlers as he took care of all his children, takes one look at Josh's pleading eyes before he sits back, toking on a long thin cigarette.

"Give me some time with the kid, I know this one well,"

Josh's eyes drop to Don's leather shoe clad feet, so polished his own reflection winks back at him.

Once the pair are alone, Don leans forward, a hand against Josh's shoulder as he urges him to look and speak up.

"Your father did me many years of service, it would be an honour to have his son follow the same route," he pauses, Josh finally making uncomfortable eye contact with a single tear escaping his eye.

"But if someone is hurting one of my best mules for miles around, I'll see to it that it's stopped,"

And like someone had turned the faucet to his eye, Josh begins to weep as an already broken down soul.

Don picks him up, standing him on his feet, they are eye level as Don sits, rapping his fingers upon Josh's boney shoulder.

"It's Ramez and Helter, ain't it kid?"

Josh nods.

"Here's the four one one kid, they make you bleed, and you make them bleed, it's a doggy dog world, you're the bottom of the food chain up in here," a cloud of smoke engulfs Josh's face, and it gives him an idea. "Climb to the top little doll,"

"Josh? Josh please you're freaking me out,"

It's another familiar voice, but one from reality Josh realises, a really real voice talking to him.

And he was yet to answer.

"Josh I'm okay I swear can you please just get up?" Tyler, the really real voice, tugs and pulls at Josh's locked in place arm, he cowers in the corner of the shower.

"Please Josh! Get up I don't know what I've done wrong,"

Josh, slowly but surely, turns to look up at Tyler, and it's now he sees reddened eyes, puffy and cascading from tears.