“You’re still a little boy,” I teased. He was actually one year and four months older than me.“Says the little girl, who still has about fifty...cuddly toys on her bed.” He often mocked me about them but have to admit, this time it was a touché. He was exaggerating, of course. I only had my favourite ones on my bed, less than twenty of them. The rest - yeah easily another thirty, I have never actually counted them – were occupying the top of my wardrobe.I play-wrestled Will into the pile of them. Those chocolate brown eyes were focused on me. I knew I had it in the bag. Then it suddenly ran through my mind. Cole. I was right in front of him now. In his deep and rustic voice, he said,"Hey there pretty lady. My name is Frankie. Yours?" Cole? What? Who the fuck is Cole? And That's all I basically remember from that night. I got too drunk I guess. When I looked through my texts I saw a new contact labeled "Frankie" and a message that said:"Hey gorgeous. Come over my house this Thursday. --Jeremy"Darceline almost smiled, having three hours to eat, nap, and get ready. But the smile didn't make it when she realized what she'd be getting ready for, to be used and abused. She quickly dumped a can on corned beef hash into a pan, frying it up on the dirty stove of the roach apartment she stayed in with Jeremy. When the food was done and eaten, she set her alarm for 8:30 and took a long nap, hoping she'd be able to sleep enough to be food for the street, another disgusting drug. She was so afraid of them when they spoke with her she didn’t say a single word, just shook her head yes and no silently.CGB quietly closed the door, locking it behind him.Jack sat in a cramped dark space for what felt like days on end. He woke up bound tightly to a restraint chair with his head forced straight forward. He couldn’t see an inch in front of him because of the darkness, it was also hard to breathe with how small and hot the room was.Jack moved his wrists feeling them tightly.
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