Runaway
Author: Lacey Raine

Chapter 3
Jonah

 I went into the room this Luke had told me to go to. I looked around. I'd slept with lots of guys who Blain said were 'high-society' and 'classy', but I'd never seen a room as nice as this. Not even at any of the Homes. It was clean and smelled fresh. The walls were painted deep blue, with a white border and skirting board. The bed sheets were white too, and silky soft to the touch. I stripped down to my boxers and slipped between the sheets. They smelled flowery and clean. The pillow was soft under my head.

I don't think I've ever fell asleep so comfortably.

I woke up to the sound of rustling across the room. Luke was opening the white curtains. He smiled at me. "Hey there, sleepyhead," He said. "I was just about to wake you."

"What time is it?" I stretched.

"Half past nine," He replied. Wow. Blain had never let me sleep in this late. "Is that too early?"

"No, it's late for me," I confessed, smiling at him.

"Really?" He looked surprised. I shrugged. "Hey, are you hungry, kid?"

"Starving," I said.

"I'll make you breakfast," He smiled at me. "How does bacon, sausages and eggs sound?" 

"Like total heaven," I grinned at him.

Luke brought my clothes back into the room. I was glad - his were huge on me. He was tall and built like an athlete. I was dangerously skinny and a good four inches or so shorter than him. I got dressed and walked through into the living room. Luke was in the kitchenette. "Hey," He smiled. "Here." He set a plate of food down on the table, and I ate it gladly.

He smiled at me when I was done. "When was the last time you ate a proper meal?" He asked. I shrugged.

"Dunno," I said. "Can't remember." I thought about it. "Oh wait, yes I can. John cooked for us about three months ago."

"John?" He repeated. Shit. I had to start thinking before I spoke.

"Er..." I'd already got myself in this mess. I might as well dig deeper. "Blain's brother."

"Who's Blain?" 

"Nobody," I shook my head. "He's just... he's nobody."

"Thirsty?"

"Yeah."

"D'you drink tea?"

"Mm. Thanks," I'd never drank tea before in my life, but I wasn't going to say that to him. He made two cups of tea in large white mugs and placed one in front of me. I took a sip from it then flinched, scalding my tongue. He chuckled. I glared at him. "Don't laugh at me."

"I'm not, I just... you're funny," He said.

"Am I?" I'd been called a lot of things in the past and funny wasn't one of them. He nodded. Then he peered about me.

"Tell me about yourself," He said.

"No," I replied, bluntly.

"Well... look, is there anyone I can get in touch with, just to let them know you're safe? Your mum, maybe?"

"If you can find her," I said. "Never knew her. Dad either."

"Oh. Well," He said. I felt in my pocket. I found the plastic bag I'd had my crack in. It was empty, but it was obvious what'd been in it. Luke didn't turn a hair.

"What about your dealer?" He said. "Will they help you?"

"Not fucking likely," I snorted.

"You swear alot,"

"So fuck? Who made you my fucking mother?" I snapped. Blain never cared what kind of language I used. He flinched at the venom in my voice. I sighed. "I'm sorry." I said. "You've been so sweet. No one's ever treated me this nicely before."

"I'm just treating you the same as I would any house guest," He shrugged. "Flat guest. Whatever."

"Yeah well," I shrugged. I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from adding I get treated like shit at home. Suddenly, something occured to me. "I can't pay you back for any of this. I used all my money getting here."

"I don't want any kind of payment from you," He shook his head.

"I'm gonna try and find somewhere to stay, I promise,"

"You shush," He said. "You're to stay here as long as you like, alright?"

"Thank you," I said, softly.

I'd never had anyone be this nice to before.

When I stood up to put my mug in the sink, something fell out of my pocket. Something black, leather. My wallet. He picked it up. It was empty, bar three photographs; one of me when I was at school, one of me smoking a joint and one of Blain and me. We looked perfectly normal in the picture; his brother had taken it last summer. Blain had his arms around me from behind and we were both laughing. It was fake laughter and he was hugging me too tight.

But nobody else knew that.

Luke picked up the photo of Blain and I and smiled. "Is this your boyfriend?" I just took it from him wordlessly and put it back in the wallet and shoving it back into my pocket. "Is he Blake... no, it was Blain wasn't it?"

"Yeah, it's Blain. And that's him," I said, quietly. He peered at me.

"D'you live with him?" He asked. I nodded. He tapped the bruise on the side of my face. "Did he do this to you?" Damn he was too sharp.

"Fuck off," I said. He raised his eyebrows.

"You tell me to fuck off every time you don't want to talk about something," He observed. "Look, listen, kid. It's obvious he's given you a right going over. If your boyfriend's abusing you, you should say something to somebody, get help..."

"Blain isn't my boyfriend!" I yelled. "He's my fucking pimp, alright?"

 

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