BAD BOY SAVED (male pov)

Brothel.

He hasn't changed.

I knew it was him from the second he opened his mouth. I've replayed him saying every syllable, vowel, consonant, noun and verb in my head for the past nine years. He didn't even recognize me. He ruined me and it doesn't even haunt him. He feels no remorse for what he has done.

And the sickening thing about it is that in that moment of coming face to face with my abuser I was instantly transported back to that feeling of being a small child with no hope of escape. That man sitting across from my table earlier today was free to do whatever he wanted with my body and I would just have no choice but to let him because that is the power he still possessed over me.

"Why are you acting like this, what's happened?"

"Nothing."

Why couldn't I tell her? Why was I still covering for him? Why was I in denial?

My feet carried me along the pavement, I knew this area well thanks to the many weekends at the lake house and the soccer tournaments, it was a bad area. I knocked on the door to the brothel and it didn't take long before I was beckoned inside discreetly by one of the pimps.

"You got a preference on girl?" A large man asked, he had a gun strapped to his belt and he made me very aware of it by moving his t.shirt out of the way.

"No." I replied bluntly.

"Candy will be free soon, take a seat." He nodded towards the sofas that a couple of guys sat on waiting for their turn and I eased my way into the seat next to them. My leg kept bouncing up and down restlessly and I couldn't keep my hands still.

I remember this room well, it had dusky pink walls, a cheap red carpet and all of the furniture was red furniture. Trying desperately hard to incorporate the 'red light' feel without using an actual red light because that would alert the authorities to what this house was used for. During one of our tournaments we snuck off and came here, of course Zak and Jordan followed through with it but I hated every second of being here looking at these people who reminded me of my mother and the lifestyle she chose over me.

A blonde lady in fishnets came walking down the stairs, she beckoned me to follow her with her hands and I got up from my seat and watched her exposed ass as she climbed back up the stairs.

"What are you after big boy, the works? Hand job? or oral?" She sat on the bed in a seductive pose, revealing far too much of her areas than I cared to see. Her mouth constantly moved with the chewing of her gum and I wondered why any one of her clients would want to kiss her.

"I want to see your pimp." I said.

She narrowed her eyes at me, and then thankfully sat herself up to a more concealed seating position.

"Daddy's not here right now. So pick what you want me to do." She said sweetly.

"If he's not here, call him." I said straightly.

Her smile dropped and she looked a little pissed off.

"Oh come on kid, you're barely legal. You don't want to mess with daddy when you can play with me." I took a seat in the chair opposite her and crossed one leg over the other, waiting patiently for her to call her pimp. She sighed and rolled her eyes knowing full well that I wasn't going to move until her pimp came up here to see me "I've got other clients to see you know." She dropped her flirtatious voice and spoke with annoyance now.

"Then you better call him quickly."

The sarcastic prostitute wrapped a silk house coat around her body and started dialing into her phone. She had a hushed conversation with someone on the other end of the line and then hung up.