SEE THE SOUL
A Lost Child
The dim candlelight cast shadows over the dirty walls, illuminating the filth of room. A small dresser, that held a wash basin on top a towel hanging over the edge, stood in the far corner of the room. There was a small rickety wooden chair beside a bed that looked as if it would fall apart at any moment. The bedclothes were dirty and the pillows flat.
The bed held a young boy, of fifteen years. His dark brown hair hanging just over his ear, his brown eyes watching the door, waiting. Today was Sunday and it would be a busy night for him. The loose white shirt, smudged with something black barely covered his hips as he lay curled up on the old bed.
“Adrian! Are you up?” a gruff surly voice yelled as the man outside it pounded on the thin wooden door. “You’ll have a costumer soon. You better be ready for him.”
“I’m ready, sir,” Adrian called, sitting up and listening hearing the master’s footsteps fade away. The den of the music and conversing downstairs reached his ears as he waited for the door to open. A soft sigh passed through his parted lips.
Minutes passed slowly before there was a hard knock on his door followed by it opening almost immediately. Adrian looked up forcing a seductive smile at the old fat man that waddled into the room. By the way he was dressed, Adrian knew this one had paid the master a wealthy sum and maybe Adrian would get a little extra money, he thought, licking his lips.
The man smiled lustily at the boy, already beginning to shed his clothes, impatient too. Adrian pulled off his night shirt, laying back on the bed, knowing this man just wanted a quick release. He shifted once the costumer was naked and got onto his hands in knees baring himself to the man.
Adrian bit his lip at the slight bite of pain he felt as he was entered quickly with no preparation, something he was used to. He moaned and groaned and put on a lively show for the trick, going through the motions of sex, not feeling anything. Pretending.
Soon the man found his release, taking Adrian to his own timed release, to please his costumer. Adrian moaned softly, spilling himself over the mans hand and the stained sheets and blankets. The man pulled out of the whore’s body, letting Adrian lick his essence from his fingers.
“That was good whore,” the man said gruffly, roughly kissing Adrian before leaving as quickly as he had came. Adrian sighed, cleaning himself up and the bed, knowing there would be another costumer soon. There always were. He was to popular to be left alone long.
The morning sunlight was a relief to Adrian as the brothel closed it’s door to most of the public. He lay on his bed exhausted from the busy night. He thought about the tricks he been with that night. He felt nothing. He was so numb to it; so numb to what was done to him. It was all the boy knew. This was his life.
Even in the pit of his despair at this dull dreary life he hoped and dreamed. Adrian longed for the theaters, the operas, to travel, to see the world; see beyond the four walls of his prison. He was trapped here. He would never be able to leave till the master cast him out. He would never see the theaters, the operas or the world. He would never get outside his prison walls. He was a bird in a cage. A vivacious soul trapped in a dreary place. A lost child.
Child of the Night
London. It was a lively city, one of the largest in Great Britain, the capital of the empire that the sun would never stop shining on. London, a glorious place, filled with life and entertainment, peoples of many facets of life. But in this carefree city, there was a power rising; it was a power that had remained hidden for years, but would manifest itself in this center place of the world.
It was a hidden power, working in the depths of the night, striking when no one expected, leaving no trace behind. The mysterious source of untapped power stalked within the shadows, seeking it’s prey, taking it secretly, no evidence of the event ever happening left behind; except for the disappearances of person every few nights. An anxiety was growing in the poorer parts of towns, especially the whore houses for many whores were taken during the night somehow, and others in the poor side of London. No one could say why or what was happening.
Laughter and music floated through his mansion as Lucian strolled casually among his guests. His cool blue eyes, calculating but strangely inviting. The room where most of his guests were gathered was a large ball room, with marble floor and crystal chandeliers, gold leaf designs on the beams and throughout the rooms walls. The band played to the far side of the room, near the refreshment table. The center held the dancers of course, minglers filling the rest. He was quite pleased with the result of his planning.
Blond hair fell over his eyes and he brushed it back as if it were an annoying fly. He was thirsty this night. Lucian looked to his butler, giving him a silent command: to take care of things till he returned. The man left the his mansion, walking through the streets of London. The surroundings became less and less wealthy and prosperous the further he walked, which was at an amazing speed.
Soon he stood outside a bar, waiting his eyes flickered about, a hunter, lying in wait for his prey. Not many minutes passed before a drunk stumbled out of the building, singing offkey. Lucian rushed to the man and wrapped an arm around his waist leading him into a nearby alley, completely unnoticed by anyone else, but the man who was too drunk to understand or care.
Lucian pressed the man against the wall, his own body flush against the man’s, tilting his head to the side and licking along the pulsing vein there. He smiled, pulling back, giving the man a soft kiss on the lips, before biting them lightly with his now present fangs. He licked the drops of blood, off the other’s lips.
With a graceful swoop the creature pressed his sharp fangs into his prey’s neck, lapping at the blood. The blue eyes closed in pleasure as he began to sate his hunger. He made sure his victim felt no pain, he was no monster. Soon the man was limp in his arms and all the blood sucked from his body. Lucian quickly disposed of his food’s body into the Thames, walking quickly back to his home, returning to the party.
Everyone was too drunk with wine to notice the change in the master of the house. His usually pale cheeks had pinkened and his cold skin, had grown somewhat warm, the blood of the human, running through his veins. Lucian was the silent menace of London. A menace that no one would have guessed the aristocratic man could be, a child of the night.
Adrian slipped out of the brothel unnoticed the next evening, a small amount of money in his pocket. He had only brought a little of what Master had given him, saving the rest. The boy walked towards the candy store, buying a single piece of hard candy, pocketing it.
The sun was sinking low on London, night was finally falling. Adrian sighed happily. The pleasure of spending the night to himself great, even if he was alone. He had been alone for years and had no hope of ever having someone to cure his loneliness.
Adrian walked towards the opera house, standing on the steps. He could hear the faint sound of singing. His heart burned with longing. Just once…Just once he wanted to be inside. But it was not to be. The opera was for the rich not the whores. Adrian was the scum of London’s soceity, below human.
Someone threw a rock at Adrian, hitting him in the arm. “Get out of here, mutt!” the person sneered. Adrian’s eyes widened and he scrambled away frantically. The boy bit his lip hard to stifle a sob, holding his arm. Though the tears that fell were from the ache in his heart rather than the throbbing agony of his arm.
Slowly Adrian walked back to the brothel, knowing he would be put to work, but he didn’t care. He felt numb. His small piece of joy destroyed by one stranger’s cruel actions.
“Adrian…Glad you are here. There’s a customer that wants you. He’s waiting in your room, hurry on up,” the Master yelled over the den, as soon as Adrian stpped in the door. The whore nodded, obeiently trotting up the stairs.
The young man stepped inside his room his eyes widening. Angelo…He bit back a cry of fear. “Sir…” he greeted softly, voice trembling. Quickly he undressed, moving onto the bed.
“Good dog, Adrian,” Angelo murmured an amused glint in his eyes. “I bought you a new toy,” he said, pulling the item from behind his back. A whip, the intstrument of torture looked terrible. Adrian swallowed fearfully. “Believe me it is tenfold worse than it looks,” Angelo promised.
Angelo ripped Adrian’s shirt which had been discarded carelessly on the floor. “Open your mouth,” he commanded. Soon he positioned Adrian whipping him viciously, laughing at every muffled whimper of pain.
Angelo paused running his fingernails roughly over the welts, covering the boy’s backside. There was one thing Angelo loved about Adrian and that was his ablity to take what was given so easily.
“That’s a good slut,” Angelo murmured, slamming his length within the quivering bleeding body. He pumped in and out rapidly, finding quick release, pushing Adrian onto the bed, dropping on pence beside him. “That’s more than you’re worht,” he sneered, leaving Adrian there. Adrian curled up, sobbing in pain until he finally passed out.
The Master came in, cleaning Adrian’s back and bandaging the cuts, he hoped this would not leave permanent scars on his most prized possession, though he doubted it would decrease Adrian’s value much. He smiled slightly, pulling the blanket over the sleeping whore before moving back downstairs.
Pain. Loneliness. Fear. Rejection. Hopelessness.
The strong emotions from the whore hit him in waves; Lucian had never felt such a strong emitting of emotions froma a human being. Who was this boy; he was special.
Lucian followed him keeping to the shadows. His piercing eyes searching the boy; he was crying. Lucian saw the boy's desires and dreams. He felt how hopeless the boy was; finally he pulled back when the boy entered the brothel.
Lucian knew he would come back and meet with that whore. THere was something about him that drew Lucian. But...but for now he needed a meal. Again he was on the hunt, searching for his prey, for blood.
Adrian groaned as a hand shook his shoulder. "Adrian wake up, wake up!" Collin, one of the even younger whores of the brothel called to Adrian.
The older boy stirred, whimpering in pain. He cracked open his eyes, brown orbs showing his pain. "Yes Collin?" he answered, sitting up slowly, wincing in pain.
Collin moved to grab the tray from the chair nearby. "Master says you have to eat and that the doc is gonna come and fix yer back," Collin explained, handing him the tray.
Adrian looked at the tray and grinned a little. There was a bowl of thin soup and two pieces of bread(he usually only got one), a couple slices of orange and a glass of warm milk. "Thank you Collin," Adrian said, ruffling the boy's hair. He knew Collin enjoyed the way they lived and that always confused Adrian. How could anyone settle for and enjoy selling their body?
Collin nodded, kissing Adrian's cheek before running off. Adrian finished eating, putting the tray to the side as he stood shakily. Slowly he slipped on a long shirt, grimacing in pain.
The shirt was long enough that it covered him so he needn't worry about pants. He climbed down the stairs, passing by two whores, kissing passionately and such was the norm for the brothel in afterhours, though Adrian had never done so much to the disappointment of most of the others. He shook his head, moving to the bar where master was working. "When will the doctor be here?" he asked the man softly.
"Soon. How are you feeling?" Master replied, cleaning the bar meticousily.
Adrian shrugged. "I don't know, Master. It hurts to move." Adrian ran his long fingers through his curly hair.
Master studied him a moment. "Unless someone comes offering an extraordinary price for you, you are to stay in your room and rest," he instructed.
The whore smiled. "Thank you, Master."
"Go to your room, I'll send the doc up when he gets here."
Adrian carefully got off the stool, climbing back upstairs. Gently he crawled on his bed, falling asleep.
It had been a week since Lucian had seen the boy and this night he returned; with a noble air he waltzed into the establishment of ill repute. The blonde ignored the whores that immediately swarmed him, walking straight to the owner. “I want a night with a brown-haired whore who had a night off a week ago.”
“Adrian must be who yer talkin’ ‘bout. ‘E’s not ‘vailable tonight, but my other whores be glad to serve ya,” the owner answered, not even glancing up at the man.
Lucian’s eyes flashed dangerously, dropping a heavy pouch of gold coins on the bar. “A night with him, there are 100 gold coins in that bag. I expect to see Adrian,” Lucian said in a voice that no one could argue with.
The owner sighed, the money was to much and the man’s voice to strict for him to resist. Adrian would survive this; the boy had seen much worse. “Go ahead, he’s in the third room on the right once you go up the stairs.”
“Thank you, sir,” Lucian said, bowing his head cordially, climbing the steps and knocking upon Adrian’s door. He waited for an answer; one did not come and he knocked upon the door again. There still wasn't an answer and the blond simply let himself in, shutting the door behind him. “Adrian?”
The young boy was sleeping, curled haphazardly upon his bed; the blanket was haphazardly strewn over his hips. Adrian’s bruised upper body was bandaged here and there and bruises covered the skin that wasn't bandaged. Lucian studied the boy, gently reaching out to his mind, watching the memories of how he had received such a beating.
Lucian frowned. It hadn't been the first time this had happened. Why someone would beat the poor boy he knew not. Carefully he picked the boy up leaving another pouch on the bed with an astounding amount of 2,000 gold coins. He moved to the window after gathering what little Adrian owned and jumped. Gracefully the creature floated down to the Earth, landing silently.
Unseen Lucian darted through the streets, within minutes, reaching his mansion. He entered the luxurious home, carrying the whore to the finest guestroom. The guestroom, of course, was connected to his own quarters. He laid Adrian on the soft feather bed, hearing a soft whimper. Lucian soothed the boy’s mind, pulling the bed cover’s over him, pushing back the hair from the porcelain face.
“Little Angel,” Lucian murmured before moving to sit in a plush chair in the darkest corner of the room. All through the night he watched Adrian sleep, contemplating what consequences his rash actions would incur.
He prayed things would go smoothly with Adrian; only morning’s light would tell.
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