Page 45 of Poison

"Sweet dreams, kid," my mom said as she passed me, heading to herown curtained-offroom.

Plopping onto the cushions, I staredupat the tin ceiling, trying to fight back a tear. If there was some sort of deity out there, I hoped they would hear my prayer and let me die before I woke.

Chapter 33

"There is no God," I grumbled. Why do I keep fucking waking up? Rolling off the uncomfortable cushions, I popped my spine as I tried to stand. My lower back throbbed in protest.

My mom was already awake and puffing on a glass pipe. If I had to guess from the smell, she was smoking Red Rocket. Lovely. It was no secret that RR users were highly unstable and often violent.

She nodded to a set of bowls on the TV stand. Grimacing, I picked one up. Breakfast slop, a premix the government handed out to the poorest citizens. It was some sort of brownish protein and carb mixture that was bland as hell. The worst part was the texture—slimy, lumpy, and sometimes a little gritty. Scooping some up, my gag reflex awoke with full force. It took everything in me not to puke all over the floor, but I swallowed down the urge. Breakfast slop was common in the Slog, and I had eaten the gunk often as a child. Hated it then. Despised it as an adult. Call me a snob, but I missed the food I had when I lived with Trevor.

Not wanting to rattle my birth giver, I sucked down as much of the horrible muck as I could manage before rushing to the sink to hide the fact that I left nearly half of the bowl full.

"Want a hit?" my egg donor asked. My eyes locked on the pipe, and I chewed my lower lip. Normally, I would turn that shit down. People often said that Red Rocket could steal a person's very soul. Even if someone managed to get clean, they were never the same. Rumor had it that the drug caused manic bipolar disorder.

I wasn't completely free, even if I did run away, and there was always a chance that Hobbs would find me. If I looked like my mom, he'd be less likely to sell me for sex. The idea of my teeth falling out was terrifying, but wasn't that what I wanted anyway? To ruin myself so I would no longer be Trevor's favorite toy?

Shrugging, I held my hand out for the lighter and glass pipe full of tiny red crystals.

Putting the pipe to my lips, I ran the flame under the bowl, slowly inhaling the fumes. I held the smoke in, keeping it locked in my lungs for a few seconds before letting it slither out in a red cloud. My heart raced like never before. Red Rocket was a completely different high from Nova. My body tingled as electricity shot sparks through my veins, and I began to jump around in place, trying to shake off the crazy rush. It wasn't going anywhere. After handing the pipe back, I turned towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I told you I would be out of your hair in a few days. I need to go make some sinders." I pushed through the cloth door, yanking the hood over my head to cover my face. I would need new clothes if I was going to pull this off, but I had no other option than to wear what I had on.

Nobody was going to pick up a hooker from the Slog, mainly because the few prostitutes that were around would rob someone blind and sometimes even kill or beat them half to death afterward. No. The best place to go would be the Inferno District, which was a two-hour walk away. Inferno was a lot like the Sin District. It didn't have too many places to eat and no casinos, but it had plenty of bars and brothels as well as some shabby apartments and motels. The hardest part of my plan would be finding a corner to claim. Most "working people" didn't like to share their territory, and when there was a group, they were usually controlled by one pimp. I did not want to deal with a pimp. Getting rid of them would be harder than paying off a debt. If you made them money, they didn't want to let you go no matter what, and if you didn't make them money, they had a bad habit of roughing up their own merchandise.

Trevor had taken me to Inferno a time or two as a threat. He would point out the roughed-up sex workers as we passed. Basically, he was trying to convince me that life with him was a far better alternative. Who knew I'd end up here one way or the other.

The moment I spotted the giant sign that said, "Inferno District," my body started to shake. I wasn't sure if it was from the drugs or anxiety, but there was no going back. I wouldn't have any protection. I didn't have Trevor to keep clients from being too rough, and I didn't have a pimp to smack them around if they gave me a black eye.

I walked down a few blocks, trying to find the best place to set up shop. I didn't want to be anywhere too far away from civilization, but not an area too open either. There was a high possibility that I'd get clients who couldn't take me to a room,or they'd just want me to suck them off in the alleyway. That was too sketchy, so I wanted to make sure there weren't too many places for a person to stash my body.

Eventually, I noticed a row of low-rent motels with a few people milling around. I ignored their advances and leaned against a building, trying to subtly show them that I was working, not paying.

"You trans?" a woman with bright blue hair asked.

I shook my head.

She chuckled, "Then you may want to find another corner, sweetie. This is Trans Alley. Pre-op trans people trick on this corner. Our clients like to be able to spank the meat and play with some tits at the same time. All I'm saying is someone is going to be pretty upset if they find a dick down there when they were expecting a cunt."

"Fuck."

She was right. Some people fetishized the trans community and wanted to get the best of both worlds. One of Trevor's former top girls was a trans woman, but many of her clients stopped visiting the moment she got bottom surgery. She still made a heck of a killing even after that, and she even got her happily ever after by quitting porn and marrying a man in one of the Nine Rings of Heaven.

"You don't have a pimp, do you?"

I shook my head.

Nodding across the street, she said, "Head on over there. The two girls there are free agents like you."

I pushed off the wall and marched across the street. The girls gave me a once-over but otherwise ignored me. The younger one, dressed in a short black skirt with a white corset, had light brown skin, ringlets of golden-brown curls, hazel eyes, and full red lips. The chunky white woman next to her was plain, but she wore an eye-catching tight yellow pleather two-piece outfit that showed off her large breasts.

I wasn't dressed for this type of work, so this was going to suck. If I didn't figure something out, most would think I was their pimp. So, I pulled the shirt from my body and stuffed one end into my pocket. I considered yanking my pants down a bit to show off the tattoo, but I was still afraid of someone recognizing me. But if they did, I could charge a lot more sinders.

The day was slow for the most part. Most people who showed up only wanted to hit up our neighbors across the way. The woman in yellow, who introduced herself as Muffin, eventually got taken to a nearby motel.

By the time my stomach started rumbling, a geeky-looking blond in a white button-down shirt approached me. "How much?" he inquired in a meek tone.

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