second | johnny

I'm afraid of sex.

I'm scared that one day it will tear me apart from the inside.

Every thrust, every sound, every tiny snapshot shatters into pieces. I've never felt safe, even though Mom told me when she was still alive: Sex should be safe, where you feel respected and loved.

I've never felt this.

Mom lied to me. Or maybe humans are just wild and cruel creatures.

After Mom's death, Dale Evan took me under his wing. The leader of Dale's. He said great futures awaited me. I believed him. Today, I'm unable to trust anymore.

I've completely lost myself since I've been within Dale's walls.

I feel a touch on my arm.

I turn my head sideways, not seeing anyone, then as I look down, I see Noah's small body.

We're sitting outside during the late afternoon break, the courtyard is vast, all empty and pale. Sitting here feels like being in "The Shawshank Redemption" movie... We're also prisoners, but damn it... We haven't done anything wrong.

Noah hands me a letter.

WHY SO SAD?

I smile. He's the youngest here. Only ten years old. He has no idea what life is like out there, no idea what it's like to sit at home in his room, munching on chips while playing video games. His life has been ruined.

Just thinking. How are you?

I taught him to write. No need for voice. He's a smart kid. He already knows the five times table. I'm proud of him. I see a bit of myself in him. The ten-year-old Johnny.

GOOD. ARE YOU HUNGRY? WE DIDN'T GET TO EAT

My chest tightens. Half the team couldn't go for dinner today because one of us had had enough and voiced it.

How about trying a new food?

His eyes light up, he smiles. His tiny hand moves swiftly on the paper. Accidentally, he pushes the pen too hard, tearing the paper, but I can still read what he wrote.

WHAT?

Hamburgers. Do you know what those are? - I ask.

NO. WHAT IS IT?

Very tasty. You'll get to taste them soon. - I reply. Noah starts clapping softly. One strap of his overalls slips off due to his movements.

I'd like to hear his voice one day. "Thank you very much, Mr. Goode!" He'd probably say in a high-pitched voice. Too bad I can't hear it.

The bell rings. Those sitting on the benches, leaning against the walls, everyone gathers into groups. Everyone has to line up in alphabetical order, we're counted, only then can we go into the room.

I hate this routine.

Wake up at six in the morning. They open the doors, everyone has to stand outside their room, together with their partners, we're counted, then we can go for breakfast, also in alphabetical order, we have five minutes to eat our food. Then everyone has a five-minute shower, followed by morning work. Some are sent to strip bars, some are chauffeured, but most stay here and satisfy the partners' desires. Lunch at noon. Then the afternoon shift is the same as the morning, just shorter, because at three, everyone has a one-hour break. At five, we're sent out to the courtyard, luckily we're under cover, so if it rains, no one gets hurt. Then from six until midnight, it's work again, followed by a five-minute shower and sleep. I'm well-rested. Yeah, right.

When I was ten, like Noah, this wasn't how I imagined my life.

I hate myself for being able to trust this man.

The corridor forks, Archie walks into our room, while I go to the other side. I'd love to lie down in bed and rest, but unfortunately, I'm on the outdoor shift. Tomorrow starts my indoor shift and also my stripping period.

I see Barney, my chauffeur, leaning against the door frame, smoking. He's wearing a suit. He has long blonde hair, stubble, and a ridiculously large jaw. But when the big boss shows up, he'll tuck his tail between his legs. Bootlicker.

He hands me the bracelet, which we all have to wear. Locator. Everyone must have it, some tried to escape, but their chauffeurs shot them dead. If the chauffeur hadn't stopped them, he himself would have died, or one of his relatives.

Barney should be grateful I don't do that to him, even against my own freedom. I don't want to kill people.

He escorts me through the Dale's door.

I gulp when the noise of cars and people's chatter infiltrates my brain, but luckily I don't have to suffer for long, Barney opens the door for me to get in. The seat is comfortable, it has tinted windows, black, and is relatively luxurious, although I wouldn't have bought it myself.

"You'll have to visit two people today."

"Is it far?"

It feels strange to speak. But here I do. Barney knows how much I know, I know a few things that, if sent in a letter to the big boss, would get the blondie thrown out of Dale's door with both feet... Because of this, I can persuade him to do a lot of things, such as exercising free speech.

"Well, you'll probably finish by nine without any problems."

"That fits." I accept the cigarette he offers me. "Here's a twenty, buy two hamburgers."

"Aren't they gonna kill you for this?" He lights the cigarette in my mouth. I inhale deeply.

"Me or you?" I ask, coughing. He's not used to smoke.

"You. You know the hundred bucks is the max you gotta take home, otherwise you'll get punished."

I hate it when he uses the word "home" for this place.

"I'm used to it. A slap or two isn't the end of the world."

"Alright," he shrugs.

"Are you worried about me?" I smile.

"I just don't wanna lose my job because of you, they pay pretty well, and if you die, damn it, Roman will shoot me."

Nobody calls me by my name. That's one of the most painful things about all of this.

"I'll find another job. It's easy for you," I look out the window, where I see the passing skyscrapers and the setting sun. It might be the end of spring.

I want to feel like I'm worth something. I mean, besides being used as a toy. But life keeps convincing me otherwise, that's not the case, I've never understood, and I never will understand anything. I try everything to get a bit of luck from fate, something to get rid of this coercion, this routine that slowly destroys me, but I feel like the higher power doesn't listen to me.

Thanks a lot, damn it.

Don't swear, Johnny Goode!

I'm sorry, Mom.

*

"We've arrived, this is the first place."

Barney stops the car in front of a huge hotel room. It has large, spacious windows, and the lighting at the entrance adds to the extravagance. This hotel seems unaffordable.

"The man asked the receptionist to say the password "Rachel.""

"Rachel?" - I raise my eyebrows. Many people ask for different passwords at hotels, most of them are numerical.

"Yeah."

"Alright, I'll be back in a few minutes."

I get out of the car. I'm cold. The night is always colder than the day, but I never learn, so I came in just a casual top, leaving my cardigan for the ensemble at Dale's, so I hurriedly climb the stairs and enter the hotel.

As I step onto the threshold, elegant sculptures greet me, one of them functioning as a fountain, pouring water from a jug, a marble bench embracing the whole setup. A crystal-clear marine aquarium stands in the corner, the chandeliers in the lobby sparkle with dazzling crystals. With childish wonder, I step up to the counter, adorned with gilded decorations.

"Good evening, how may I assist you?"

"Good evening. Rachel."

The receptionist nods, then picks up the phone and dials a number. She waits for a moment, then says something while I scan the hotel adorned with gold and marble.

"Please come into room five."

"Thank you."

The staircase is wide, with golden railings and very tall. I feel like a court jester who came to surprise the king.

Each room is furnished with unique design elements, some have different doorknobs, room numbers, or patterns on the door.

Fortunately, I find room number five quickly. I knock.

Noise emanates from inside.

The problem is that it's continuous and varied.

The man opens the door. He has tall, black hair swept to the side, a well-built body, his clothes all white and neat, and his nails manicured.

"What a little cutie you are."

"I..."

He grabs my hand. Damn it, this hurts. He pulls me into the bedroom, and my heart beats loudly.

There are many of them. I can't count them, but I don't even have time to come to my senses, I already find myself on the floor.

"Have you ever heard of gangbang sex, babe?"

"I don't do that..." - my voice trembles.

"No one asked you. You'll get double the money, bro" - a voice replies from behind.

"Yeah, and besides, you're just a whore."

I forget to breathe when the one who opened the door towers over me. I don't want this... He tears my shirt off while two others play with their belts above my head. I instinctively try to pull up my legs, but the one above me proves stronger, effortlessly pulling them apart.

"Don't be scared, don't be a coward!"

"Yeah, or we might get bored and kick your ass out." - Another man positions himself over my chest. "Let's see how well you can suck."

Tears well up in my eyes as the third man tries to force himself into me, devoid of any mercy. It tears me apart. It burns. It hurts mercilessly.

When the man on my chest places it near my mouth, I scream. I cry for help.

They hit me, my voice fades.

"You damn whore, who do you think you are? Do you want to bring trouble upon us?"

"Get out of here right now!" - the host pulls me up from the floor and pushes me out the door with a big gesture. I fall against the wall, face first. My nose starts to bleed. But I feel nothing can bleed worse than my heart. I gasp for air, trying to inhale oxygen but it's not enough. Damn it. I couldn't do what they asked me to do. There's no money. There's nothing. How will I buy anything for little Noah now? But I promised.

A deep sigh escapes me. I pick myself up, leaning against the wall, hurrying down the stairs, not wanting anyone to see me like this.

I'm scared. I'm damn scared.

Don't speak dirty, Johnny.

I'm sorry, Mom. I've ruined my whole life.

As I walk down, the only sentence that runs through my mind is... You're just a whore...