"Open the goddamned door, Angel!"
The pounding at his door increased as Angel sat huddled in a corner, just staring at it, hoping the bolt was strong enough to keep him out.
Him.
He should have known. He should have known this was how it would end. Never get involved with a client. How many times had he been told that? How could he have been so stupid? But he'd seemed so sweet at first.
"Once a man sees you as his personal sex toy, he can't see you any other way," Mimi had warned him. But he hadn't listened. Couldn't listen. He'd wanted so badly to believe that he was the one. The one who would finally treat him like he mattered. The one who would treat him like the woman he wanted to be.
Angel had resisted him as long as he could. James was one of her regulars, and after a few visits, he'd told him he wanted to see him outside of work. He wanted to take him on a date. Angel had been flattered, but had refused, Mimi's words ringing in his head. But James had been so persistent. He'd brought flowers, little gifts of jewelry and chocolate, and soon Angel had said yes. He'd wanted to say yes. Surely James was different. He wasn't like the men Mimi talked about. Right?
Soon, though, it had become all too clear that he was exactly like those men. At first, he'd showered Angel with money and gifts. He was a business man, and seemed to have an endless supply. It was the first time in years that Angel was able to eat three meals a day. He felt like royalty.
But then came the day it all changed. He could place the exact moment it had happened, and wished with everything inside him that he'd been able to say no, like he wanted to. But the allure of food, and even more than that, his desire for someone to care about him, to love him, won out and he'd agreed.
It was supposed to have been a threesome. With one of James' friends from work. Supposed to be. It had ended up being Angel pleasuring the friend while James watched. He was doing exactly what he did for money, only this time, no one was paying, and this time, James was watching, telling him what to do, telling him exactly what to do. He felt dirtier than he ever had selling his body.
When it was over, Angel took a long hot shower, the water washing away his tears as his body shook with sobs. He stayed that way until the water was cold and he was shivering, no more tears left to cry. As he left the bathroom, James immediately pulled him into his arms, telling him how much he had appreciated that. And for the first time, he told Angel he loved him.
Maybe that was why he had stayed.
After that day, it became routine for James to bring his friends home, his acquaintances, his business partners. Anyone he could find, it seemed. Often more than one. It wasn't unusual for Angel to entertain a group of men while James watched, getting off on the pain they caused him, the way they were so rough with him. Angel would look at him with pleading eyes, begging him to make them stop, but James would just smile, mouthing the words I love you and blowing him a kiss.
Angel had had enough. Last night, James had brought just a single friend home. But he was the most sadistic, evil bastard Angel had ever encountered. He'd been unable to stop the tears when he'd seen him come in the door, and that had only served to make James even more excited than usual, and to make his friend treat him even worse. When James whispered "I love you," from across the room, Angel knew he couldn't live this way any longer. He was nothing more than James' personal whore, and he would not let it go on.
With what little money he had, Angel bought a new lock for the door. How could he have been so stupid as to give James a key? But he'd wanted to believe so badly that James was the man who would love him. He'd been blinded by his money, by the food he was able to eat, but even more so by his words of love, no matter how hollow he knew them to be. He'd just felt that if he tried a little harder, he'd be able to make them true.
Now, sitting in the corner, curled up into himself as the tears streaked down his face, all he could do was pray the door would hold and listen as James hurled insults at him. Telling him he was nothing, telling him no one could ever love him, that he was worthless, dirty, used. He leaned his head against the wall behind him, looking up at the ceiling, trying to block out the words, trying not to believe them.
But in his heart, he did.