Little Lukas

I

They said that they came out of nowhere, creatures thought to be nothing more than myth and legend, but on that day one thing was made very clear: they were real. When I was younger my dad used to tell me that humanity fought to the last man but now that I'm older I realize that that was a lie, because if we'd actually done that then why were we in chains now?

These days the human population is rumored to be in the hundreds of thousands with only a small percentage still trying to fight freedom while the rest of us reside in districts. We don't know many there are all over the world but in our area there is only three that reside just outside of a huge city. My parents called it "New York" but to me it was a place of evil that housed the monsters that had enslaved us. And yet...it's someplace I've always wanted to visit.

Like that'll ever happen, I'm a slave just like the rest of my people, but the only difference is that I live in one of the poorest districts there is. I'm not saying that other districts have posh and cozy lifestyles available to them, but I will say that they're doing far better than mine. My father tends to the fields just like every other man here while my mother works with the other women to make clothing. It's extremely hard work that barely pays us enough to stay alive, and with my mother giving birth to my sister things only seemed to get harder.

So I started selling my body.

There aren't any rules against it and it's sort of an unspoken thing that men from the other districts like to come here and spend time with boys like me. I don't mind so long as the pay is good and I can help my family. They were against it at first but now that I think about it, I think that they only said that because they felt like they had to. They aren't bad people, they're just desperate and if I can help them by giving myself to random strangers and regulars then I don't mind it at all.

Or at least that's what I tell myself everytime I'm taken away and violated over and over and over and- I know it's stupid to dream and wish for things that are never going to happen, but I really wish I had the chance to live a normal life, to grow up with a stable family surrounded by love and joy, not pain and sadness. I don't know, like I said it's stupid to dream of things like that, especially when you live in a world that only likes to take, but it gets me through servicing my clients so that's where I go when it's time to work.

I barely noticed the money being tossed on the pillow next to me as another client exited the room. I'd been at it for a good chunk of the day and had made a lot so it was time for me to call it a day. I dressed myself quickly and had barely slipped my feet into my worn shoes before I was out the door and headed home.

I usually keep my head down when I walk to avoid the judgemental stares and leering of the people around me. People worked themselves to the bone and then some just to make an honest wage and yet they still had the nerve to judge people like me for doing the exact same thing, like we didn't have people we loved that needed support as well. Well screw 'em, I could really care less about what they thought.

The walk to my house wasn't that long but I always rushed there because it was the only place I'd ever felt safe. It was a standard wooden home, more akin to a log cabin if anything, that featured two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen. The latter is where I could always find my mother either cooking, sewing, or just tending to my sister. Today was no different.

She looked weary as she looked up and greeted me with a smile. Everyday it was, "How's my sweet boy?", and everytime I replied with, "Fine, Mama." I wish I could do more to help her but there's only one of me and Dad's always-

"Go wash up, boy, you smell like a whore house..."

Like that.

"Yes sir", I said as I walked past him and rushed up the stairs. My father isn't a horrid man nor is he a bad person, but there are times when he just treats the rest of us so badly that you would think otherwise. I know it's this place and the situation that we're in, but I can't help feeling bad when he makes comments about me like that. No one says anything to him because he'll just shrug it off or get angry, and because of that he thinks it's okay when it's really not.