jacqueline & maixent
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Posted: Feb 3 2015, 11:16 AM
Isaac Kye Irving
We are all murderers and prostitutes
smoker — impatient — responsible — considerate — artist
once, he and aubrey dressed up as princesses
There wasn’t much left from your childhood. You were glad human mind worked in such a way, there were many things you regretted.
- There are only a few memories that are vivid in your mind, as though they were burned on the back of your eyelids. They were the most painful ones, of course. The horrors that came to haunt you at night. The reasons for getting less and less sleep, to the point where you started to take the public transport more often after getting a ticket or two for almost falling asleep behind the wheel. The police didn’t congratulate you on being able to afford a car in central London... You figured they lacked a sense of humour. Not that they knew, of course. You kept yourself under wraps, your official work title being “artist”... Not that it was a blatant lie, you did often draw and managed to sell a few paintings over the years, too.
In truth, your story is a lot more complex. Starting from your work title to your sexuality, you are not an artist by trade as you have the authorities believe – it’s easier like that – you are a prostitute. A title to be ashamed of.
It doesn’t bug you, not anymore. After over a decade in the industry, you learn some tricks. It’s about pushing yourself aside and being a nameless whore, with your face pushed down into the mattress because some people find it hard to face their own deviant ways of life.
*It was like the reality hitting you square in the stomach when you saw him there. You froze for a couple of seconds before you went into overdrive. You blamed yourself for it, after all, you should have been able to see it, to prevent it but you didn’t... While there were things that you picked up on, you persuaded yourself that you were being paranoid about it.
When you entered his lounge that day you couldn’t be proven more wrong and your breathing evened out only once you were in the ambulance.
*Living the “homosexual lifestyle” had never been easy. You knew of your preferences early enough to turn around to your mother and loudly proclaim that you were gay. At about seven years old you didn’t know that it was something to be ashamed of, something that you needed to keep to yourself. You were broken and needed to be fixed... After all, you were the only child and who else could give her grandchildren?
That could have possibly been the reason behind your OCD. To be of an alternate sexuality was wrong and dirty. You found yourself obsessing over keeping your room immaculate. To the point where you would hardly let people in there – they disturbed the peace. It was your sanctuary... but soon it became your prison, too.
So you would sneak out through your ground floor window and go to the beach when you couldn’t sleep, stay there and watch the sunrise before you would finally manage to nod off for a few short hours before you had to rush to school.
You always wanted something more. Your mother and you would break even every month and there were things that other people had that you wouldn’t. That was where school came in handy especially – your looks being your ticket in, to get what you wanted. You were a curious teenager and the girls were always willing to share; being the pretty boy paid off in drugs and being able to sleep at night without issues.
That was round about the time you met Jackson, the older brother to one of your classmates as well as the main supplier for the “cool kids”. There was one instance after your meeting that you won’t ever forget...
It has been about five days since you slept properly. Your grades have been plummeting down since the start of the term and that just seemed like a perfect breaking point... Choosing to skip school, you went out to the beach. The day was hot; the school shirt you walked out of the house in was sticking to your back, sat close to the older boy, with your legs almost flush against each other. The beach was empty save for the two of you.
Slightly hazy from the drugs you’ve gotten, you decided it would be a great idea to sit in the other’s lap. Relaxed and happy, you responded with enthusiasm to the hand fisting in your hair as you were pulled forward into a sloppy kiss. Inhibitions pushed aside, you pressed yourself against him, your knees resting on the warm stones of the beach.
To this day, you weren’t sure how far you would have gotten if it wasn’t for your mum showing up. Though the disappointment you saw in her face when she realized what you have been doing sliced through the happy haze, making you instantaneously anxious.
The following days were quiet ones from your mum’s end and while you were hardly surprised, it kind of bugged you that she never shouted. Never told you how bad it was. There was a sneaking suspicion that upon realising that you were gay, she chose to mostly ignore you... which was why you tried to cure yourself.
Madison was a couple of years older and much more experienced. She had the short black hair and blue eyes combo going on and you always found yourself attracted to people that looked like that. You genuinely tried, the relationship lasting a good three weeks before she pulled you aside and said what both thought. It wasn’t working out. It seemed like she knew the reason behind it, too. More than embarrassed, you deleted her number.
*That was the time you were at your worst. The sleeping issues weren’t going away and even though you were a gay teenager in Brighton of all places, it didn’t help. The desire to make your mother proud of you was overwhelming but you couldn’t do it, you couldn’t fix yourself and that was when you were almost driven over the edge.
Almost, because suddenly you were being sent to live with your uncle in London... and your entire life seemed to crumble in your hands even more so. Away from home and from your perfectly maintained room, you felt sick to your stomach. And while you could be a good student, you didn’t feel inclined to – the respect that you had for your mother didn’t equal to the respect you had for your uncle, not by far. Going through quite the violent withdrawal at the time, you took up smoking and eventually got kicked out of college, what in turn got you kicked out of your uncle’s house.
That was how you ended up where you did.
It all fell to chance, at the end of the day. It had been a rough couple of nights and it could be seen in your face. Almost as though there had been a story in the bags under your eyes and you felt yourself privileged when you managed to sneak your way into the London nightlife.
Being a prostitute was never something you would have thought you’d be able to do and in the very early days you felt disgusted with yourself, looking into the mirror and seeing just how pathetic you’ve become. Falling right back into drugs, you were at your lowest again, becoming a ghost of your younger self. Once more, you managed to pull yourself out of it and decided to focus on babysitting more than prostitution. It was one of those adverts in a shop window and the child’s mother arranged a meeting between the two of you prior to you starting taking care of her child and immediately, you felt respectful of her.
*Sometimes, you felt a bit like a superhero or something equally ridiculous. Babysitter by day, prostitute at night... but the babysitting part of it at least was good. Aubrey was a very nice and polite kid, always with a positive aura about him and for a while, he became the younger brother that you never had, to the point of you wanting to actually adopt him... Figuring his parents wouldn’t be happy, you spoiled him instead; or at least as much as you could with the living wages in London being as ridiculous as they were.
One of the things that Aubrey was completely obsessed with, aside from wallabies, were princesses. It took quite some planning to make it happen, but eventually one day when both his parents were out, you had a day of watching Disney movies dressed up as Cinderella and Belle, respectively. As that was when you started to feel better about yourself, you went all out, from head to toe completely transformed and it must have been the best day of your life.
*Growing more and more tired; you finally stopped with the double life and went back to being just a prostitute but it was becoming more and more overbearing with every new client. You tried to escape it to the strippers but that didn’t last very long and you realised that you were this good for nothing teenager, which just got confirmed when one of the clients got a little too into it and completely tore you apart.
It was Connor that found you on the floor of the hotel room, bruised and broken, and it was Connor that fixed you up. It wasn’t all selfless, of course, he was in for your body too – but only at first. He helped you and nurtured you, eventually becoming your addiction just like the cigarettes. Or the sex.
Once you stood up on your own two feet, it became something different, something more. Connor became the person you would always come back to and no matter how you’ve been treated, whether you smelled of expensive after shave or were battered, he was always there to take care of you. And while he never had any issues with addictions, he fed yours – buying you cigarettes when you forgot your fake ID.
Life was good for a while but you couldn’t see it going that way for long... and you were sad to be correct. You were well on your way of trying to regain some sense of self and choose a different “career path” when things went to shit. It was a well known fact that if one thing fucks up, everything does – so you found yourself having completely lost contact with Connor but that couldn’t be enough – your mother died soon after.
*Being a gay teen in Brighton in your mother’s presence was not easy. Being in love with a straight Irish alcoholic isn’t easy, either.
You take a shot of vodka.
alex — 20 — gmt — pm for im — shannon, noah, warrick
Posted: Feb 22 2015, 05:04 PM
AHHHH ISAAC. Okay so, I'm glad he's here and he's had such a bad time of it but it's okay because he's got Aubrey right? Before one gets thrown into Wonderland at any rate... let's get this resident hooker in the game!