Law

Images of the past

Jack roamed the empty streets of his town. Street lights lit the lonely streets, the light subsiding the boys anxiety of the dark. He'd feared it because it held the unknown, he didn't know if people hid in the shadows, awaiting the moment that he would walk by them. After all, Jacks worst fear was being abducted once again.

Sean felt his heart leap as something moved in the distance, his legs froze and his hands clenched into fists. He only hoped that he could run faster then the other could. The boy gathered the courage to walk past the moving shadow. He was relieved when he saw a sleeping homeless man, covered in newspaper and towels to keep from the bitter, cold air.

I need to stop being so paranoid

Jack took the few more steps towards the large white apartment building that he now called his home. The boy was thinking about buying the apartment next to him to accomodate...anyone if they were to join him. Thanks to his modelling, jobs becoming more frequent, he would be able to soon.

The Irishmen turned the key to his door and opened it. He was welcomed with darkness, empty, void, darkness. He sighed then closed and locked the door behind him.

On his fake marbel bench to his kitchen he discovered that he had left his phone behind while he went on his cleansing midnight stroll. He picked up his device to see that Tyler had messaged him, telling him it would be a few days before he got his money from the photo shoot he'd just done.

Jack didn't bother to reply to the message and simply left his phone on the bench. He checked the time, it was almost midnight.

I need a shower

The boy made his way to his small bathroom which laid to be the long room on the left of the apartment. Inside the tiles were blue and white with no bath and one shower.

Sean felt his eyes start to droop and his body want to collapse on him. In an attempt to wake up and splashed cold water on his face, drying it off with a face washer he looked in the mirror. Turning on the small radios for white noise, although he wouldn't listen to it.

" Welcome to late night news, where you can find all of the news stories from today in one place".

Sean looked up into the large mirror.
He saw a tired man. One with sunk in eyes and pale skin. Chapped lips and empty orbs for eyes. The once blue ocean eyes that held waves in them were now still, dirty lakes. The face of a man who'd seen to much, experienced to much. But it wasn't his slaves days that did this to him. It was his loneliness.

Jack hadn't spent time with Tyler for months, not had he seen Ethan since the last time he'd purposely gone out with him. After his visit with Matthias he hadn't returned again. Matt had discouraged him to come to the Lott, he didn't say why and Jack respected his privacy.

" I'm Grace Keen, and today's stop story is quite unusual, but certainly not the first in America history".

Jack was alone, he would go to work five days a week and work for ten hours and then come home. Home to an empty shell of a home. He had no one to talk about his day with. No one to hold while he fell asleep watching television. No one to vent to...

The green haired man stripped his clothing off and threw it in the corner, not worrying much about where it landed. Turning the water on, he started with hot and added cold accordingly. Soon steam began to fog up the glass windows and mirror. He stepped in, immediately feeling the harsh hot water wash away his aches and pains, but not his reality.

It was true that Jack would be able to see Tyler if he'd just picked up the phone and called, or Amy and Dan. Perhaps even Felix, Marzia and Phil. But the boy now found it difficult to be around other slaves that he knew. Every time he would have a panic attack. Every time.

" An 'outpost' as authorities are calling has been found on the outskirts of the city. Housing hundreds of slaves all under one mans name-".

Sean didn't know whether it was the scars he saw, the pain in their eyes, or just the knowing of what was done to them. It triggered him to say the least.

The Irishmen looked down to his own chest, were small white lines scars and some larger ones laid. With his hands he explored his back as the liquid ran over it. Lash marks from whips and knives, wounds long healed.

" Unfortunately no miss-conduct was found within the outpost and the police or government legally cannot press charges".

For a moment, he thought back to his slave days. The days when his fake father would tie him to the whipping post in the slaves square. Naked, cold and afraid. Whether he'd done something wrong or not was no factor. It was to show the other slaves who was in charge and that they will do anything at his 'fathers' will.

Seàn felt a tear fall down his cheek, his salty tears contrasting to the hot water and steam that surrounded him. The boy remembered when he'd be left to bleed from his back and his legs, arms and torso on the cement floor. Where slaves would walk past him and give him saddened looks, but no one would dare touch him. Where he laid for hours, cold, shivering, alone and dying. Until one of his fathered paid servants lifted him and cared for his wounds, quite roughly as well.

" They Lott will be closely monitored over the next six months. The owner stated that he had nothing to hide, even going so far as to accept a permanent police presence on his property".

Jack let a sobs escape his mouth as his jaw started shaking as did his hands. Soon enough his lungs were no longer able to hold air and gasping for it did no help. As his head felt lighter, his legs fell from under him and he went tumbling to the ground. With shaking hands unable to catch his fall, the boy feel straight on his side. His body collided with warm title and water, his heat hitting the title harshly.

Jack subconsciously laid like he did in the last time he'd been whipped or beaten. On his side so his wounds could bleed and not get infected. His head on the floor laying limp, as if he were dead. His shaking hands clenched lightly to his chest.

Seàn couldn't help but cry as images of his torture flashed in his mind, blood and tears and begs of mercy. He looked down at himself crying for those white scars that littered his skin seemed to be fresh wounds. Bleeding profusely onto the cement and puddling all over him, that's what the warm liquid is under him must be. His hands shook with shock instead of fear and his stare held blank as tears run down his face. The man shivered despite laying in warm liquid that he saw so crimson in his eyes.

It was only a few moments until Jack fell unconscious, due to his brain being deprived of oxygen. The last images he saw was of pure blood rushing from the shower head and engulfing his entire being.

Im going to drown here

" In other news, for the first time in America, a slave has been brought to hospital by his owner, claiming that his slave was much to precious to him to not seek medical attention. Not much is known at his present moment, but what we do know, is that the slave will live. But in the words of doctors "he'll never be the same again". It is still unknown if any charges are being pressed against the owner".