Page 44 of Poison

I walked for hours, keeping my head low, trying tomake surenobody would identify me. By the time the sun began to set, I had startedtorecognizemy surroundings. Beat-up shacks made of wood and rust were nearly stacked ontop ofeach other. Tarps were used as walls or roofs, and crude, uneven windows were placed wherever they would fit. People sat around small fires, keeping themselves warm or cooking their evening meal. This was the place I grew up in. The Slog.

A river of anxiety flowed under my skin as I walked down the dirt path. I was back home, where this entire shit show had started. Somehow, my subconscious had led me back. This would be my life again. No more penthouse, no more fancy food, no more fancy clothes, but best of all, no more Trevor. I'd hate it, especially since I hadgotten a taste ofa better existence, but Trevor wouldn't think to look for me in the Slog. All I needed to do was suck a few dicks, and I could afford enough scraps to build myself a shack. After all, it wasn't anything new. I wasn't above it. Shit, I had been forced to do it for ten years.

Not to mention, I could sell my name. Why would any would-be client rat me out if they could get my timeforway cheaper thannormal? Sex seemed to be the only thing I was good at anyway. Why stop? As the night air became increasingly cold, Ihighlydoubted anyone would let a stranger curl up against their fire. That left me with one option. I needed to go home.

Chapter 32

I didn't want to see my parents again. In fact, I could've gone the rest of my life without ever thinking of them and be happy for it. But beggars couldn't be choosers, and as much as I hated to admit it, I was a beggar. Besides, I was a grown man. I bashed another man's teeth in. I had no need to fear my sperm donor. My only problem was, where the hell did they live? It had been roughly thirteen years since I was in the Slog. Would I remember my old shack if I stumbled upon it?

Eventually, I recognized the tiny nature park where I used to play as a child. The swing set only had one intact swing, the slide was rusted, and the merry-go-round looked like it had seen better days, but the sandbox was still there. That meant my parents' shack was only a little way down the dirt path.

I shivered from the cold and my ever-increasing anxiety. When I spotted the tin shack and clay chimney of my childhood, it was like stepping back in time. Not too much had changed. It was a bit rustier, the cloth door was an entirely different pattern, and a few new flowerpots littered the dirt-covered front yard, but it was the same. The chimney billowed smoke, so someone was obviously home.

Biting my lower lip, I ran through my options, practically begging my brain to come up with anything else. I had nothing. Either I'd beg my parents for a place to crash for a bit or risk freezing outside while I tried to sleep. I wanted to go back to Vic's place, but Kyle may have already gone to Hobbs. If that was the case, the entire police force would be looking for me. And if they found me there, Vic would be put in shackles for sure. I felt safe in the Slog because Trevor never found out where I was from. I told him I was from a place called Dante's Hallow, a neighborhood about two districts away. It was still lower income but not nearly as run down as the Slog. Considering the situation I was in, I was happy that I was too embarrassed to tell Trevor the truth.

Nervously, I lightly banged on the tin siding and waited. After some light cursing and rustling from deep inside the shack, a rough-looking blonde stepped out. Had I not known the woman for fifteen years, I may have walkedrightpast her on the streets. Her skin was no longer smooth and glowing but leathery and grimy, and her long blonde hair was stringy with visible gray roots. Her once beautiful brown eyes looked dull and worn with heavy bags underneath.

"What you want?" Her voice was husky as if she had severe lung damage.

"Hi, Mom," I muttered, unsure what else to say.

The woman stumbled across the threshold, giving me an exaggerated once-over. She damned near fell when she tried to look at my face. She was drunk. I could smell the alcohol on her. "Isaac? Decided to finally check in on your dear ol' mamma?"

I cringed, unable to keep my eyes off the few rotting teeth she still had in her mouth. Mix that with her leathery skin, and I'd bet my life she was addicted to Red Rocket. A highly addictive upper that ruined a person's teeth and dehydrated them so much their skin would shrivel and dry up if they didn'tproperlytake care of it.

"I wasjusthoping to curl up next to the fireplace for a couple of days, and then I'll be out of your hair."

My mother smirked. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen. You don't think I haven't seen that big ol' billboard standing over the Sin District? You were off living the high life and didn't bother to send me or your dad a single sinder."

"Dad fucking raped me while you watched!" My hands trembled as I balled them into fists. I wanted to shatter what was left of her rotting teeth. "You know what? Fuck this. I'd rather freeze to death. I'm fucking done with life."

"Isaac, stop!" she shouted. "You can have your old room. Don't want you catching your death out there."

"...Is Dad in there?"

She shook her head. "Dad is dead. Been gone for three years now. The Bliss got him."

"And it looked like the Red Rocket got you," I grumbled.

I didn't mean for her to hear that, but apparently, she did. "Oh, like you're so fucking perfect. You take dick up your ass and let people film it. Who are you to judge?"

"I'm not judging. I'm a fucking junkie, too. I prefer Nova, though." It was asmallrelief knowing my dad wouldn't be around. I should've felt shitty for not caring about his death, but I didn't.Fuck him. I hope hecomes backas a fly and gets squashed as a maggot.

My mother held the cloth door to the side. "Come on and get you some food."

I ducked through the door and was barely able to stand upright. For my life, I couldn't figure out how I ended up so tall. Then again, my mother frequently talked about her uncle, who was close to seven feet. Our family must have some kind of giant gene that likes to pop upevery so often.

I sat by the fireplace, where my mother had six kebabs perched over the embers. "Expecting someone?"

"Was.Hecancelled. Lucky you came, or it would have been wasted." They were nothing more than meat and mushrooms. If I had to guess, the mystery meat was most likely pigeon or crow. "So, how's life been for the infamous Starburst?"

"Shit," I replied, trying my hardest to bite my venomous tongue. I wanted to snap. This was all her fault. If she had stopped Dad from touching me, I wouldn't have run away.If I hadn't run away,I probably wouldn't have met Trevor." After I left, I met a man. An older man I thought I loved, but he was grooming me. He set me up, and I ended up in shackles. After years of servanthood, I became his slave. All those dicks I took, as you so colorfully stated, weren't my fucking choice."

Mom didn't say anything as she slid kebabs onto her plate.Iwanted...needed...to hear her tell me she was sorry, but she wouldn't.My mother was a sadist. A wicked woman who liked to watch her only son get raped by his own father. I'd bet the only reason she wasn't being a complete cunt was because I was so much bigger than her, and she didn't have my dad around to back her up.Hell,I was still confusedas towhy she even allowed me into her shack, but I wasn't going to complain.All I'd have to do is turn a few tricks, and I would have enough sinders to build my own place.

As I ate my food, my thoughts drifted to Vic.He must be in a panic. I wished I could contact him, but it was too risky. I couldn't even go to Hell's Gate since Trevor knew it was my favorite spot to hang out. If he wasn't convinced that I was dead, he would have eyes on the place.

When my mom got to her feet, I followed her to the back of the shack. My "room" was nothing more than a corner closed off by an old shower curtain, and the bed was a bunch of piled-up miscellaneous cushions from random chairs. A few of my old toys and acouple ofhand-drawn pictures were still in a little cubby. Frankly, I was amazed they kept it all. Tearing down my room would have given them more floor space.

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