Bailey always thought the day his father died would be the best day of his life. He always thought he would finally be free. Free of the hell he lived in. He thought he'd have a life for himself, he'd finally be able to decide what he wanted to do for himself.
But unfortunately for him, the law wasn't on his side.
He remembered the day clear as crystal, and the memory wasn't a good one.
He remembered panting, tears in his eyes, being left bruised and filthy on the floor, waiting till he could stand up again.
He remembered hearing his father's voice, words slurring due to the alcohol, and angry. He heard another voice. The voice of the man who was using him, abusing his body.
His father was demanding more money, saying that what the man has given wasn't enough, that he deserved more for this.
"Maybe if your damn son was a little tighter." the man said, snickering, and Bailey could hear his father slamming his fist into the table.
"He's a teenager, how much tighter can it get?" he growled.
"Maybe a little younger then." the man said, "Or a little less used and worn out, eh? Perhaps you shouldn't have turned him into such a slut. Then he might be more worthy of that much money."
Bailey felt tears stinging his eyes. He thought he could get used to this life, one as a prostitute. It had been years but no matter how much time passed, everything still hurt him. He couldn't be like normal boys, couldn't enjoy his life.
Instead he was taking in random men's cocks so his father could pay their rent. His old, good-for-nothing father. He has contemplated running away many times, but realised it wouldn't be logical. Where would he stay? He'd probably get captured and have worse things happen to him than rough sex on a daily basis. He knew the consequences of going outside the house. He couldn't remember the last time he went out.
He heard his father take his gun out, and bit his lip. God, he hated having to clean up the blood of people his father beat up or shot. He never killed them, it was more of a warning.
"You give me the money asked for or you pay me in other ways." his father said threateningly.
"You should've given me what I asked for then. He had a nice ass but... Too many bruises on his body, his moans weren't... Well they a little annoyingly high-pitched." the man said.
"You got the sex, now you pay for it." his father shouted.
Bailey heard a thud, he heard grunts and a crashing sound, and he squeezed his eyes shut. After that, he heard the man mumble something, he wasn't sure what, and then he heard a gunshot, and his eyes shot open wide.
He looked around and saw the man coming back into the room where he lay on the floor, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look up at him add he scanned his face- probably noticing all of his own cum that was now drying up.
"You have a pretty face, boy, you really do. But you're just not good enough." the man said, almost pityingly, "But when you're selling yourself off as a sex slave again, then you have my number." he tossed his card at him and released his grip on his chin, making Bailey's head bang down to the ground.
He groaned and lifted his head up slowly, "What makes you think I'm ever letting people use my body for money again?" he managed to get the strength to ask.
The man tilted his head and smirked at him, "Well what else would you do, eh? And you know what the say, old habits never die."
And then he'd gone, left Bailey alone in the house with his father, who was bleeding out upstairs. Bailey remembered checking for a pulse, calling the police and trying to sound as sad as possible that his father was dead.
YOU ARE READING
Habits Of My Heart
Novela Juvenil[INCOMPLETE, SLOW UPDATES] After the death of his mother, Bailey was pulled out of school and forced by his father to work as a prostitute, so that his father had enough money to handle finances. After his father is killed, his life is turned upsid...
