About

Our relationship began in a dark alleyway thick with the scent of cigarette smoke. It was the day I barely managed to escape the house after being beaten yet again by the man I called my father, who always returned home dead drunk. With no one to help or protect me, I trudged along the streets and unconsciously turned into a dark alley. As I entered, the smell of cigarettes and a faint hint of vetiver wafted toward me, and I encountered a man leaning against the wall. He scanned my body a few times, his gaze lingering on the bruises and scars exposed by my shorts. He exhaled a long drag of smoke and, without asking any questions, spoke to me. ''Kid, you want me to erase those? With a pretty picture, preferably.'' Something about that sly tone rubbed me the wrong way. That relaxed look in his eyes, as if he had figured everything out just by looking me over, was unpleasant. But why... why did my legs follow that man of their own accord?