AGALMATOPHILIA

_-:45:-_

The bang tears the young boy back to reality, blinking a few times rapidly to bring himself back to this realm.

"Did you hear me boy? Are you listening?" Boney fingers rap along the edge of a work bench, the balding man not turning to look at his young son.

A small, missing front toothed Josh pauses from running his large wooden toy truck over his sisters little barbie doll, looking up to his dad, with an uninterested, bored gaze.

"You're going to take your wagon, and the new shipment, and bring them down to the butchers, okay boy?"

Awkwardly, wobbling slightly, young Josh climbs to his feet, a smile, with his tongue trapped between his teeth and bottom lip, plasters across his face as he nods a yes, wobbling once again to pull the wagon behind him, pulling his overalls up with one hand.

"Oh and Josh?"

The boy spins around, the strap to his overalls falls from his shoulder, completing the messy young child look.

"Yes dad?" He coos, rocking back on his heels.

"Don't talk to strangers okay?" His father smiles, shooing him out the door with a firm pat on the rump, the small child giggling at such actions, waddling out the door, dragging the heavy wagon down the two steps from the front door.

Though Josh was young, he was far more mature than kids his age.
His mother said he had to grow up too quick, Josh thinks she's silly, and sometimes thinks about getting rid of her.

As his slender tiny frame travels down the main road he beams at everyone along his way, they smile and wave back, well aware of who the young child was, until he reaches the butchers shop, his smile drops, the air becomes thick, Josh feels like he can barely breathe.

Behind the large glass doors, Josh hated the people who resided here, yet for some reason his father sent him here a lot, always twelve beautiful dolls, always on Josh's favourite day.

Monday.

Everyone seemed to hate a Monday, yet Josh felt it was a new beginning to every week, except his Monday's were always ruined by this place.

With a sigh, the little boy pushes through the doors, immediately greeted with the smell of death, bloody chicken carcasses hang by the neck from various hooks in the ceiling, the glass display case filled with cuts of different meats, blood and gore gathered at the front of the glass.

Josh knows exactly where to go, he walks underneath the lift counter, dragging the wagon behind him, strolling through the back door, heading towards the cage elevator.

Clambering inside, he counts the dolls, one through twelve, before he pulls the lever, patiently waiting for the elevator to sink to the last floor, tapping his foot, he feels his anxiety beginning to rise, yet tries his best to not show he was afraid.

The elevator jolts to a stop, shaking for a moment before the doors clunk, struggling to open as they rattle and jiggle to retreat back into themselves, small Joshua sighs, puffing a tiny curl from his eyes.

He stands for a moment, the silence of the hallway he was about to tread down builds a lump within his throat, hesitantly stepping forward as he swallows, closing his eyes, he hears the manic laughter from the room at the end of the hallway.

Cracking the door just a slight, minute amount, Josh peers through the gap, an uncle like figure flings the door wide open, Josh stumbling back and tripping on the wagon.

"Woah woah! My favourite boy!" Two large, oddly red stained hands grab him underneath his armpits,  saving him from crashing harshly into the jagged wagon.

"Hello Don," Josh smiles politely, regaining his posture.

"Come on in my little one! You can see who we're shipping out today," Don smiles back, it's not as polite and innocent as Josh's.

Shipping day, was the day Don's involuntarily drug mules were stuffed with condoms and little plastic bags, filled with pills, white powders and liquids Josh couldn't even pronounce the names of.

When he enters the room, a few boys stand naked along the wall, grown men shoving items down their throats, and in other areas Josh's dad had told him to never let anyone touch.

He grimaces at the gagging sounds a boy around his age makes as a small baggie is forced down his throat.

Don let's out an amused sound, striding up to mount a chair in the middle of the room.

Josh stares at the boys, their unhappy eyes, and how they looked at him like they were begging for help, until he can finally look away, look towards the uncle like figure perched in a chair, a vile, sadistic giddy look upon his face.

"Ten mules, over one hundred pounds, my precious Josh," he pats his knee, Josh waddles up to take the spot awkwardly, uncomfortably shifting so he wasn't touching anything but Don's knee.

"You have no fuckin' idea how much your dad needs this money, how much you'll need it," Don stabs a finger into the boys chest, Josh looking over to the last boy being filled with drugs. "You'll be like me some day,"

"Do you have to use the kids, uncle Don?" Josh questions as he stares, Don laughs.

"Of course not, but they're the easiest to collect and dispose of my beautiful Josh," ruffling his hand through Josh's hair, the little Dun boy giggles.

From the corner, one boy begins to convulse unnoticed, before he begins to seizure, dropping to the floor, he foams and gags on his own tongue.

"Ah fuckin' shit," Gently, Don lifts Josh and places him on the table, moving to the boy as a petrified Josh glares at the scene, the other boys shuffling away from the kid on the ground.

"Who was in charge of this one?" Don only stares down at the kid as he twitch's, reaching out for help, choking on pleas.

Horrified, Josh jumps from the table, stepping back he bumps into the wagon, a doll falling out onto the floor.

Something about the dolls, Josh thought, if Don didn't get the dolls then he didn't get the money for drugs.

Josh looks back over to the boy, pale blue, still, and being prodded by the boot of his adoptive uncle Don, Josh wanted an end to the suffering he'd seen.

He picks up a doll, walking towards the burning fire place, he carefully throws it inside, not excepting the huge flame and tiny explosion.

"Hey! Hey, what the fuck are you doing kid?!" Don marches back over towards Josh who begins to back up.

Don takes one look at the fire place before he points to the wagon.

"Skinny, count those boxes, and I swear if there's less then twelve," Don leans towards Josh. "I'll just have to make a new doll, now won't I?"

Josh swallows harshly, glancing briefly towards the door before the ironically named Skinny finishes placing each doll upon the bench.

"Eleven," the fat man named Skinny calls with a scoff.

"Eleven. Eleven? Fucking eleven Josh? What the fuck did you do?" He approaches rapidly, Josh accidentally backing himself into a corner, wringing his hands in fear.

"I saw the boy, I just, I didn't want any more-"

A thick, strong hand wraps around the small boy's throat, lifting him high into the air.

"I told you you'd regret doing that, little doll," Don slams the young boy against the wall, his vision suddenly fuzzy, almost white.

"Your dads going to miss you Joshua,"

Josh hears this as his last warning, before he feels the wall slam into the back of his skull, rendering him immobile.