Chapter 37

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He had never been so easily made by a mark before, but he supposed that his recent binge on drugs had made him appear far more like an addict than he had before. Still he thought nothing of it when the young man decided to see past the evidence of drug use and invite him to his home. Not keen on spending another night dirty and cold on the pavement he happily accepted.

It wasn't until he stood in the shower, feeling drowsy as a result of the steam and the drugs his mark had so eagerly supplied him with, and found his face pressed up against the blue tiles of the wall that he knew he had made a grave mistake. He hadn't been violated in this way in so long he had forgotten to be concerned about it, and in this moment he was too weak and feeble to do anything other than mumble incoherent protests. The man took him against the shower wall repeatedly, until Harry's groggy legs gave way beneath him and his mind slipped in to sleep.

He came to on the bed, he could feel the fresh dose of H in his system and reasoned that he had been shot up while he was sleeping. He was not so far out of his mind that he didn't realize his situation. Face down upon the bed, hands tied to the head board just above his head, a dull ache in his bottom that he was certain would feel much worse if he ever came down from his constant high. Then the voice he recognized as his mark, and the one he meant to con and leave who had obviously been conning him the whole time.

"50 pounds for thirty minutes. That's more than fair. I could charge more but he's a bit out of it at the moment so I'll give you a bit of a break."

"Is he clean?"

"I bathed him!"

"I mean has he got anything...and why is he tied up?"

"He likes it that way. He's a kinky fellow. Now pay up."

Fully grasping what exactly was going on Harry tried his best to raise his body from the bed, but found himself to be far too heavy to lift. He struggled as best he could against the ties around his wrists, but could not find the strength to writhe his hands out of the fabric, which wasn't tied particularly tightly at all. He supposed his mark figured they didn't need to be.

All he could do to protest being sold to this man was speak, unfortunately his speech was hoarse and slurred and completely incoherent.


He mumbled, feeling the bed depress beneath him as the man climbed behind and straddled him. He managed to kick his legs, moaning his disapproval, the man chuckled and rubbed his shoulders.

"No need to be so eager, darling, I'm getting to it."

And so it went for the rest of the day, this man and that, he never saw faces, he just vaguely heard them moan and groan and felt their fingers in his hair and their kisses on his back and neck. He let his mind wander away for the most part, let himself ride what little of his high he had left, let himself drift out of consciousness and happily into the dark.

He had no way of knowing how many there had been or how soon the next one would come, but when his eyes popped open in the dark and he found that by some miracle the ties had loosened enough for him to pull his hands through he quickly did so, and rolled off of the bed and onto the floor. His agile reflexes helped him to land on all fours, and he quickly and quietly scrambled through the dark to the small pile of raggedy clothes in a corner; the only things here that belonged to him. His shoes were not immediately visible and he decided that they were not of the utmost importance at the moment. He crept up to the closed bedroom door and turned the knob, opening it carefully, and wide before stepping out into the dimly lit apartment.

Everything here was nice and new, expensive and high tech. Once he was certain the apartment was empty he took a moment to survey the place. At a docking station laid two iPhones, an iPad and an iPad mini, all of which Harry quickly swiped, chargers and all, and stuffed into the pockets of his pants and down the front of his briefs.

On the counter were two small bags of his beloved, no doubt meant to be used on him to keep him docile and complacent. He swiped them and headed for the door, never once looking back.

His actions and whereabouts since then and even now were a blur. His eyes fluttered open and he lifted his head, looking around the room at the fluffy and frilly decor. Girly and feminine and stylish. He breathed in deeply and was immediately reminded of the bakery in Holmes Chapel, and more recently of the girl who's kindness he'd intruded on and dismissed so harshly. Sunlight offended his eyes as he sat up, but he could open them enough to make out her living room, and to watch as she sauntered out of her bedroom in her pajamas and sat next to him on the bed. He realized he was shirtless and moved away from her as she went to touch his forehead.

"You were burning up last night so I've been checking on seem much better now. How do you feel?"

He sat there and looked at her. Stared at her. Wondering how she could possibly be real and how he could possibly be alive and more than that why he was once again in her apartment and at the mercy of her kindness.

"What the fuck is all of this? I don't want your fucking help I thought I made that clear the last time I left."

"You don't have to want my help," her voice soothed him, it's quiet and understanding tone set him at ease and so he relaxed a bit and tried not to be suspicious of her motives. "You need me."

Her hand rested on his, instantly comforting him, and he felt his guard lower completely, turning it over so that he could hold hers as well.

"What happened to me?"

"Well it's a long story but I guess the short version is you over dosed. Niall and Meg found you on a train and carried you to his lawyer, Meg called me, by the time I got there you were starting to have withdrawal symptoms so I gave you a hit, you passed out again, we brought you here and I honestly thought you were going to my apartment. In my arms. But you slept through the night and your fever started to break and you were breathing and speaking even though you weren't conscious so I thought maybe you had a chance and now here you are."

She managed a small smile, he raised his brows and shook his head slowly.

"Here I am...I don't know why people keep bringing me back. Just let me go."

"We don't want you to."

"Well it's not about what you fucking want is it?"

"No, and it isn't about what you want either obviously; when it's your time to go you'll go and there won't be a thing me or you or anyone else can do about it. So why rush the inevitable? Why not live while you have the chance?" A deep eye roll and a soulless chuckle are his response to her words. She releases a heavy sigh and he notices her suppress a smile. "Are you hungry?"

"I'm more tired than anything else."

He admitted, and he meant a tired far more pressing than just your average fatigue. She stood and ran a hand gently through his curls and spoke in a voice more understanding than any he'd heard in a long time.

"So why don't you give it a rest then, Harry. Give yourself a break."

And for the first time in a very long time he considered doing just that; he entertained the notion of abandoning his beloved h and restoring himself. Whether or not he actually desired to do so he could not say, but the idea and the possibility was there in his mind.

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