Kinzer leaned back, effectively gaining leverage as he slammed into Kid’s hole, filling him, hurting him.
Kid pressed his hands against the wall, pushing as hard as he could, hoping to lessen the throbbing pain. As much as he wanted it, his body couldn’t handle it.
SLAM!
Kid recognized the sound. On the other side of the door, up a stairwell, there was a door the guards had to come through to get to the showers. It always made that same noise when it closed. Someone would be there in just moments. If Kinzer didn’t hurry up, they were going to be fucked…in a bad way.
He flipped his head to the side, slipping free of Kinzer’s hand.
“You have to come…now,” he grunted. “They’re gonna be down here in a second.”
Kinzer thrust his pelvis into Kid’s ass. The pounding quickened. Sharp slapping sounds echoed through the showers until Kinzer threw both of his arms around Kid’s chest and grunted.
Kid could feel Kinzer swell inside him. A warm stream rushed down his leg. His eyes rolled back as he basked in the pleasure and absorbed the pain.
CLICK!
Kinzer pulled out.
He swept down, retrieving the bar of soap he’d dropped on the tile. He hurried back to his shower, acting as if he was finishing up.
Kid limped to his side of the shower and collapsed onto the floor.
“You okay?” Kinzer asked.
“I’ll be fine,” he whispered, his body trembling.
The door burst open. Robb and Marzo entered.
***
Please let him be asleep, Kid thought.
Houses, inches apart, lined either side of the street. Mailboxes planted at forty-five degree angles pointed in various directions. On the side of one of the houses, a jigsaw hole in a brick wall opened into darkness. Before the wall, a line of bricks scattered across foot-tall weeds. Miss Greer sat on the porch of this dilapidated house, cats at her heels. She rocked in her chair as if she hadn't received notice to abandon the condemned property. Kid knew that she had, because he'd heard Mrs. Michaelson and Miss Lanser discussing it just a few houses back.
He walked down the street, his thumbs curled under his backpack straps.
The streetlamps flickered orange behind him, combating the blue of dusk.
Directly across from Miss Greer's house, shattered windows acted as advertising to the occasional squatter that the place was known for. Kid passed the broken-windowed home, walking up a barren yard toward a rusting trailer—white with a once gold streak across the center. It looked like an old faded flag.
Please let him be asleep, he thought again.
After school, he always snuck off to the woods and spent his time reading. He'd developed decent timing for when Daddy would pass out from his evening binge. Nothing pleased him more than seeing him fast asleep on the couch. It meant he could disappear into his room, read his books, and not have to worry about anything until the next day…when it started all over again.
He hopped up a set of peeling periwinkle-painted steps. The screen and the front door creaked open as he slipped inside.
Daddy sat on the couch, across from the TV. The familiar Jeopardy soundtrack and the scent of Budweiser and popcorn filled the room. Daddy's belly, stretching a faded blue shirt, rounded over his belt. His eyes looked shut.
Thank God, Kid thought.
He closed the door and crept through the hall toward the back of the trailer.
“Willy,” Daddy called out. “Willy-boy. Where you been?”
Kid turned around. Daddy's eyes glistened in the TV's blue light.
Kid tossed his backpack in his room and started in, hoping Daddy was too drunk to notice.
