Gabriel: Prequel

twenty three

[ gabe's pov]

"As you can see, the building is infamous for the perfect architecture. Built in 1972, the campus was a trial building, as the architect - Neil Hardsman - died before he could finish it. Years after, other developers roughly built more but retained the same beauty that Hardman often portrayed in his work. Now, if you'll follow me, we can move on to the east wing."

The campus guide is pretty much right: built high and tall, the campus has refined, minimal details of woven ribbon around the pillars - something that Hardman did in all of his buildings. Despite the building, the rest of the campus is generic with all of the crowds, the stray kids just hanging out and the odd vendor on their own. I'd been standing at the back of the tour, silently observing all that can be offered, yet, it doesn't feel right. I'm in a gang, I'm expecting a child and I'm barely above surface level in school. It seems so unlikely that college is where I should go, or where I can reach. On the other hand, though, the painted dreams I once had of being a being star in sport run past me, not letting me catch it, mocking me. Am I really ready to let go of it? It will be a choice that I'm not sure I can ever make. Still, I continue the tour, mentally taking note of all the things I want to experience: being broke; meeting new friends; being late for lectures. Things that normal kids do; things that aren't guaranteed I can do.

__________

After the tour, I find myself in Rehan and Nicholas's old village, watching all of the people walk by and continue with their lives. A sharp stabbing pain hits at me, knowing that, for them, it can never be a normal town. For me, neither, though. It seems like a betrayal to walk down these lone streets without her because she really was the excitement of this small town. I continue walking, trying to ignore the stabbing pain. Hearing a commotion near a light building, I follow over as a means of distraction. A crowd of middle aged men jeer at someone in front, huffing at my intervention.

"What's going on?" 

"You want a piece of her, too? Tough luck, she's being all frigid," one of them mutters, sulking away from the girl. Behind them, she sits with her knees tucked up, her face thin and her eyes watery. It's only when I look up to see Pleasure Seeking in neon, pink lights, that my face scrunches in disgust. I crouch to her level, glancing down the streets to see no one near, and all the men walking away. Disgusting shits. I shrug off my jacket to put around her, surprised when she looks up at me as her tears begin to flow. 

"Thank you," she mutters over and over, sobbing into the warmth of the jacket. I dig into my pockets, feeling some change in my pocket and help her up. Extending my arm outwards, I open my fist to reveal the change to her. 

"Take it. Buy whatever you can and stay well away from those shits. Wait, here," I take my phone out, passing it to her, too, "Put your number in and if you can, tell me if you need to get away." She gingerly grabs for the money and phone, her eyes drying. I can make out that she's only a few years younger than me, maybe one or two, but she's pretty but tired. Understandable, though. As she's about to give me my phone back, she glances at my screen again, her face frowning. 

"That girl...who is she?"

"Harper? She's my girlfriend."

She continues to frown, looking away until she nods to herself, passing my phone back, "Makes sense, I just knew her face and who she was. Thank you so much."

This time, I frown at her, "You know her?"

"I saw her some time ago, yeah, and she was arguing with one of the regulars. I asked around, though, because she was familiar to me, too. I already guessed she used to work here and the other girls confirmed she used to work here - since she was, like, twelve or thirteen. Apparently, she stopped working here a year or two ago." Confusion speeds in my mind as I pick up broken pieces of information, trying to mentally put them together. I know that Harper's mom pushed her into stuff like this, but I never pushed for specifics; the time she stopped working here must have been when the gang picked her up. Even though I know about the hurt laced in her past, my heart starts to feel compressed, feeling weak for her. More than anything, I want to take her in my arms and make everything go away.

"Do you know anything else about when she used to work here?" I ask her, shifting.

"Hmm, not really. Just that she only became involved with three or four regulars for the years she was here. The old boss was in debt, or something, and used to only sell her to the highest bidders."

"Which was them - those four," I trail off, narrowing my eyes to the inside of the club. 

"Thank you for everything, though. Where are you going now?"

"Me? I need to start rectifying stuff," I say bluntly, storming inside. Neon lights blind me from all sides as I navigate towards the main body of the building, disgusted at all of the men ogling the young girls. Words spill out as I speak to people, all of their answers the same, directing me to a distinct man in his fifties, maybe, sitting in the centre. I slip into his seat, pretending to look at what he's looking at, drinking the glass in front of me, acting as a fraud. I twist in my seat to face them, inclining him to lean in closer.

"You a regular?" I ask, expertly swirling the contents in my glass.

"Yeah, and ain't I glad of the variety in girls over the years," he chuckles, clinking glasses with me.

"Wanna know something funnier?"

"Sure."

"Sitting in the left pocket of my jeans, is a fine ass knife. Drenched with hundreds of people's bloods, the knife can just equate death the minute I plunge it in your vein, and it's such a sight to see. Looking at you now, I know your type: you have a wife and kids - although, I don't know how; you have a good job, but you live a double life. You would be in such a crisis if people found out that you've been attending to these girls for more than three decades, wouldn't you?"

His eyes dart to my pocket and then face me again, flashing with fear although his face remains calm. "What the hell do you want from me, punk?"

"I want you to get the fuck out of town, bastard. Give money to your family and these girls - compensate them, even if money doesn't compensate all the trauma you dicks have given them. Then, leave. Never come back," I snarl, boring my eyes into his.

"Or what? You're all bark and no bite."

"Oh, yeah? Let's test it. Let's see how much bite I really have." I taunt him, treading my fingers to my pocket. At my words, he spills money onto the table, floods of notes pouring down as he gets up.

"Fucking fine!" He rushes out, and everyone stares over at me as I coolly continue to swirl my glass, ignoring the pounding heart inside of me.

_____________________

"Let's go over this again: we have one more time to trap the bastard, Axel. We can't mess up. Everyone knows what they're doing?" Darren asks at base, staring at all of us. We nod in unison. 

He claps his hands to conclude the meeting but checks his phone, frowning.

"What, Boss?" One of the guys asks.

"Clinton - the one that traded some drugs back in the day - he's been gone for weeks apparently, almost months. Even weirder, though, the other ring leaders have been missing too. Some guy is definitely behind this," he murmurs, frantically typing away. Ah, so his name was Clinton. Not my concern anymore, I suppose. The others aren't my concern either. At the mention of this, though, Harper stiffens, looking down. Whilst they all conspire, I tread over to her, not even speaking to her as I embrace her, lightly patting her back. "It's okay."

Questions probably consume her, but she doesn't budge as she stays in my arm - exactly where she needs to be.