Chapter 14
Black

Pip Pirrup heaved a tired sigh and readjusted his backpack on his shoulder before plastering a wide smile on his face. "Damien!" He called, waving like crazy to the taller boy and running to catch up with him. "There you are!"

He latched onto the "demon's" arm and grinned up at him. "How were your classes? I didn't get to see you since lunch!"

The dark-haired teen smiled a rare, nearly creepy smile, down at the blonde as they left the school together with the rest of the hoard of students, desperate for the weekend. He still hadn't let go of Damien's arm, keeping it tight in his grip the time it took them to walk from the school to Pip's foster home, where he was forced to let go by his foster mother screaming for him to get inside. "I'll see you soon, right Damy?"

The other boy gave him a smile and a quick nod before turning and continuing on his way. Pip sighed, sadly this time, and turned to go inside. His foster mother glared and yanked him inside so she could close the door. He barely registered his beat-up phone dinging on his way up to his almost closet-sized bedroom. Honestly, it was just big enough for a twin bed and a dresser with the minimal walking room, at least there was a window.

The Brit collapsed onto his bed and kicked the door closed behind him. It was a really tiring week and he just wanted to sleep, but curiosity got the better of him and he dug his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and squinting at the bright screen as he opened his newest notification.

Oh.

Prostiution. Hooking. Whoring.

Oh no.

Harlotry. Hustling. Fornication.
All terms for selling one's body.

This can't be bloody happening. There's no way….

Innocence. Purity. Chastity.
Integrity. Sincerity. Candor.
All terms people associate with a fellow student, Pip Pirrup.

No….No, he had never been entirely innocent, never pure. He wasn't given much of a choice though, but he knew what had happened and it was his burden alone.

Pip Pirrup, an innocent and usually forgotten foreign student. The last person anyone would expect to partake in debauchery.

That is true. He wasn't innocent, but he was good at pretending he was. He tried. Tried to be the good little foster child who never got into trouble. But the system scarred him at a young age and he had done things, still does things that he wasn't proud of.

This proves just how little we know about him.

Damien was his closest friend and he still barely knew the real Phillip Pirrup, and Pip didn't really want him to know the real him. If he did, then Pip would most likely lose him.

Pip Pirrup, our little British foreigner, is a prostitute.

He figured this is what the article would be about, it only made sense. That didn't make it any easier to read through. A choked sob slipped past pink lips and his blue eyes began watering.

You read that right. Pip is a prostitute.

Oh God….Everyone is going to know by Monday morning.

You know, the people who sell their bodies for a little bit of cash here and there.
Does he have no dignity?

No, he supposes he doesn't anymore. That's what life had done to him. Stripped him bare and left him vulnerable.

Is life truly so bad a teenager needs to force themselves into this decision?

It could be. It always could be.

Is it Pip's fault? Or society's fault?
Only God above knows.

God...God had abandoned his poor soul long ago, but that didn't stop him from praying every night. Praying for love and happiness and forgiveness for his sins.

He hoped the Almighty heard his pleas.

The article had a few images attached. Images of Pip in different vehicles with random men and some women. Others of him being paid through the car window and wearing non-Christian clothing that would make the Church shield their eyes from the horror of it all.

Pip sobbed himself to sleep, despite it being only 3:30, with him curled under his covers in a fetal position. He wished he wouldn't wake up.

'Tap', 'tap', 'tap'.

Pip wrinkled his nose and tried to pull the covers over his head, but the insistent tapping continued. Finally, after a good few minutes, he threw the covers off and stared at his window, surprise showing on his face almost immediately.

"Damien-" He breathed out and hurried to unlatch his window and push it open. It stuck for a moment, but with a good hard shove, it opened enough for Damien to slither in from the tree branch he was balanced on. "Damien."

His friend said not a word as he yanked the blonde Brit into his arms, just about squeezing the life from his lungs. Another sob slipped past his lips and people could only breathe out the name"Damien".

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

She pushed herself off the houses white-picket-fence after watching Damien Thorne struggle to climb the tree and knock for a nice long five minutes before the window was forced open and he slithered in. Well done.

One name remained on her list now.

Final victim: Stan Marsh.