The Tiffany Box- ONC 2021 Shortlister

6- Plastic Jesus

Haven wrapped the blue sarong low on his hips. A glittery piercing sparkled on his navel. Faint scratches could be seen on his belly yet he hid them when he dabbed some cover-up on the marks. He slid a short-cropped top on and smoothed out a wrinkle. The material was gauzy, transparent and slightly iridescent. Running a brush through his long, white hair he looked at himself in the cracked mirror before him. His eyes were dead, no amount of rest could add a spark in him tonight. Haven had not fed in a week and he was growing weak. The only way he knew how to lure his victims was by standing on a corner pretending to be one of the prostitutes with addiction issues and neglected morals. Applying a ring of black kohl around his eyes, Haven frowned at himself, hating everything about what he had to do.

He was not as pretty as the doe-eyed boys who leaned casually against the streetlamp sucking on their cigarettes. He was not bronze-skinned, there was nothing exotic about him. Sometimes he got spat on by potential punters who mocked his pale skin. But sometimes he would be called into the cars' of the leeches who got their thrills by thinking of what they could do to a young man as ivory-skinned as he was. Luckily, Haven never had to go as far as to have one of them get into his underpants. The men were always dead before they realized that he was not a street-walker selling himself for sex, but a murdering Kadisin who needed their blood to survive.

He always made sure they were in some secluded ally, far away from ears that could hear the screams. Haven was quick but the savage fear that they were going to die came to the men nevertheless.

Hooking his thumbs on the waistband of his sarong, Haven lowered it a few inches more, showing off a wider patch of ivory skin and the sharp jut of his hipbones. He stood away from the other hustlers, ignoring their sneers and inappropriate comments. Touching a lock of his hair, Haven hid behind the snowy curtain until a dark sedan slowed down and stopped in front of him.

"Are you this pale all over?" the driver asked as Haven walked to him and leaned into the window.

"Fifty bucks and you can see," he replied with a soft tone.

"What can you do with your mouth?" asked the mustached man as he leaned towards Haven and smiled.

"I can surprise you." Haven offered him a butterfly smile. The man's car smelt of stale smoke and beer. There were fast food wrappers littering the floor. From the rear-view mirror, a plastic Jesus dangled. The figure was as pale as Haven, washed-out white by years of being in the sun.

With a jerk of his head, the man invited Haven in. "What's your name?"

"Snow White," Haven said never missing a beat.

The man chuckled as he started his car. "Well, I ain't no dwarf and I ain't no prince."

"That's OK," replied Haven, "I never really believed in fairy tales anyway."

In the darkness of the deserted lot, Haven was straddling the man, sucking his neck hungrily. Blood trickled from the wound leaving a few stray drops on the man's grey t-shirt. The client had been dead before the engine got cold. Haven drank until he had nothing more to drink. Bowing his head against the man's chest, Haven let out a small cry. When he looked up, he saw the man's eyes glassy and wide, staring towards the sky. Haven touched his fingertips to the dead man's lids and shut them before slipping out of the car and walking back home.

The night's shadows slithered behind Haven. Tendrils of darkness reached out to him but never got close enough to touch. As he wound the corner of the Chinese restaurant, a hurricane-in-a-cup of a woman bumped into his elbow and nearly dropped her to-go bag.

"You, careful!" she scolded him before dashing around the building.

Haven touched his sore spot and knitted his brows. She'd bumped the bag against his funny-bone which made him wince. Rubbing his arm he turned the opposite corner and continued on his way.

The sound of mewling interrupted Haven's steps. He heard it coming from behind a pile of black garbage bags and cardboard boxes. Inching carefully towards the noise, he peeked over the garbage and saw a tiny kitten.

"Hey you," he said softly as he leaned down to pick it up. "Where's your ma?" Haven listened but heard no mama cat looking for her child. The kitten was the size of his palm, jet black with a crooked tail. "You're all alone, aren't you?" he whispered as he held it by the scruff of its neck. The kitten curled its body and tucked its tail between its legs. Getting a closer look, Haven saw the animal's eyelids were shut tight, glued together by some cruel hand. Droplets of gunk clung onto the kitten's cheeks and whiskers. "Who did this to you?" Haven felt his heart break for the tiny creature. Tucking it against his chest, he wept. Hot, angry tears rained down his face and fell over the blind kitten who nuzzled against the albino's body and began to purr.  

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