“AND DON'T YOU COME BACK, YOU LITTLE FAGGOT!”
Darian bolted from the door, gripping his bruised eye and ignoring the flood of blood coming from his nose. His father yelled a couple more slurs and more threats if the fifteen year old ever showed his face again. His mother was pleading with the man to stop, no, they could work past this, talk to the pastor, pray to God, they could fix what was wrong with him.
The teenager didn't stop. Not until he was a few blocks away and was out of breath. Leaning against a building, he pressed a hand to his nose to stop the bleeding.
Well. That could've gone better.
He should've listened to his gut and not tell his parents why exactly he didn't like any of the girls at school.
Sighing, the boy wiped his nose off and waited until he was sure his parents were asleep. Then he snuck back into his bedroom and picked up a few things. Wallet. Change of clothes.
He'd be fine. He had his gut on his side. And his gut was never wrong.
+ = + = + = + = +
“God you're beautiful... I could fuck you all night, baby...”
'You don't even know my name, dumb ass,' Darian thought as he was pinned against the wall and several sloppy kisses were placed to his neck. The teen's blonde locks hung in his blue eyes as he stared listlessly at the ground.
He had nowhere to stay. For two years he'd managed to keep his head above water by staying at friends' places, dipping into his savings... but he had run dry. So he did the next best thing.
Find a random guy at a bar, and offer himself like the innocent twink he was. His gut feeling told him this guy, despite appearance, wouldn't mind him at all. Over six feet tall, musclebound, shaved head... kinda intimidating really. But Darian's gut was never wrong...
And apparently the fact that he wasn't into it was apparently obvious enough. Muscle head backed away, eyes glazed over but a little concerned. “What's the matter, blondie? You scared?” He asked, sounding sympathetic. “Haven't done this before?”
Darian ignored the red hot blush that spread through his cheeks. “Wha- course I-” He trailed off. “.... No...”
Even while drunk, the man backed off a little. “Aw, it's okay, sexy. You can just go home-”
Darian spoke a little abruptly. He couldn't go home. There was no home to go to... god he fucked up. He fucked up bad.
“... You can't go home, huh?”
The teen was surprised by the drunk pulling away. “Okay, you can sleep on the couch, I guess... unless you wanna keep going?”
Huh. So apparently Darian's gut was right. Well, don't waste that opportunity.
“If you change your mind, I'm up for giving you a good time.”
The couch was a bit lumpy. But Darian slept like a rock.
His gut really did pay off.
+ = + = + = + = +
His name was Rick.
Darian was now happily stationed on his couch for over a year now. Obviously Rick kept his thing for fags quiet, the way he acted around his friends. And according to his friends, Darian was Rick's 'cousin'.
His friends were cool though. Normally brought a lot of pizza and beer with them, and Darian always was allowed to help himself. They normally just talked about fucking girls and sports, neither subject Darian was into, but either way, he managed to stay on their good side.
Oh, they also had one more thing they all loved-
Pot, ecstasy, coke, LSD, whatever. Over half of them were dealers and all of them took, including Rick. Darian's eyes went huge when he saw them taking heroin for the first time.
Heroin was definitely the favorite though. For a year Darian managed to resist the pull of asking, he did weed a couple times but it really wasn't his thing. Things also turned hella gay whenever the heroin was in everyone's system, another thing that made him curious if not slightly amused.
He didn't have to ask though- one of the guys offered.
“Hey, Darian? Tanner ain't gonna make it, wanna shoot up with us instead?” Joey, one of Rick's friends. Darian's eyes slightly widened.
“For free?” He asked, mildly suspicious.
Joey nodded rapidly. “Yeah yeah yeah, first time's always free.”
First time was free. Darian chewed on his bottom lip a little before shrugging. “Eh, why the fuck not. Might as well try it. If I end up throwing up...”
Yes, he did throw up.
But after that... it was peace. Darian was laying on the couch, taking in everything and feeling perfectly safe. Even when Joey climbed on top of him, clearly stoned out of his brain as he undid the teenager's belt, everything felt safe. Warm. Comfortable.
Yes, the first time was free.
But Darian would do anything for a second time... and a third time...
+ = + = + = + = +
“How do you do it?”
Darian was twenty three years old now. Had his own place (it was a shithole but it was his own, at least), and well, in order to get high, he had to get other people high.
He was a heroin dealer.
He laughed as he glanced over at Rick, who was stunned at how much he had taken in today. “I have a magic gut feeling, remember?” He teased.
Rick rolled his eyes but was clearly a bit envious, but in a good way. Impressed that the blond kid he had helped out a few years back was making something of himself. “So, we're gonna come around here tonight, have a good time. Your cable working?”
Darian shrugged. He didn't watch TV that much.
“Gotcha. See you tonight, buddy.” He smacked the younger man's shoulder before walking out the door.
Suddenly Darian got a bad feeling... a really, really bad feeling. He almost got up to tell Rick that he was calling tonight off, that he wasn't feeling that great.
But he shoved it off. Rick would probably be suspicious about something stupid and that would mean an argument. He'd just ignore it.... this time.
+ = + = + = + = +
Tonight was going pretty well, Darian wasn't feeling particularly horny so he didn't try to pull Joey or Rick into his bedroom, he just sat against the cold wall...
And he realized he couldn't breathe.
Each breath was forced, hard to take. His mouth had turned dry, dryer than normal. He tried to get up to get a glass of water but it was too hard to move.
Darian realized he had danced with death far too many times, every time he stuck a needle in his arm he was taking his life into his hands. And this time he had finished himself.
He barely noticed someone approaching him and kneeling beside him. “Darian? Darian, it's Ezekiel.”
Ezekiel... oh shit, Ezekiel. Darian forced his eyes open and he stared into the yellow eyes of Ezekiel Trioson. He kept his head low but everyone knew he was a dirty lawyer, pulling fat mob boss' asses out of the fire with almost little problem. There was a reason he could afford those nice suits.
He'd met the lawyer, once. Yesterday, actually. They had lunch, they had a nice chat, and in the end Ezekiel gave him a few extra dollars.
“Whadya want with me....” Darian was trying to focus on breathing, focus, perhaps he could pull through this...
“I'm here to make a deal, and from what I can tell, you don't have a lot of time so I'll get to the point. Do you want to live?”
Darian tried to nod but every movement was sluggish and painful. His head was beginning to ache from the lack of air.
“Give me your name. Full name, if you please.”
How could that mean anything? Steal his identity maybe. Ah hell, what choice did he have?! He was dying for Christ's sake!
“Darian... Tristan... Tristan Steele.” That was the last thing he said before he entirely lost consciousness. Probably a good thing he didn't see the real face of 'Ezekiel'.
+ = + = + = + = +
“You'll be okay, just a few more minutes and we'll be at the hospital.”
Rick's eyes fluttered open and he stared up blankly at the woman above him.
Ambulance. They were in an ambulance.
Where was Darian!?
“Dar... where my cousin...” He slurred.
“Sir, you are going to have to relax, you've overdosed on heroin.”
The other person in the ambulance was still unconscious, Joey... and pretty soon Rick went back into darkness as well.
+ = + = + = + = +
Darian was standing at the street corner with Ezekiel, slowly letting the sirens die away. Ezekiel chuckled.
“And you know this for certain?”
The young man glanced up, hood slipping to his shoulders. A skull design was on his face, all his yellow hair had fallen out. Blue eyes had dulled to an olive green, dark and unchanging. “I do... I can always tell.”
Course, this time, it wasn't a 'gut feeling'.
He could see it. Joey would be in a coma for a week or so, touch and go sort of thing. But he'd pull through. Rick would recover a bit faster, finally his father would come see him and not be a huge bag of dicks, and help Rick get into rehab.
In the Bible people that could see into the future were called prophets.
Guess that was one good thing that book told him.