After Amir showed me the consequences of what happens when someone helped me. Amir was more dangerous than I ever could imagine him to be. He was evil and had no regard for other humans. He thought white Christian boys were something that can be used and if anyone interfered with his plans, Amir had no problem murdering them. I hated being afraid of someone like Amir and his friends. What choice did I have? Not only did I need to protect myself, but I also did not want my mom or Abbie hurt.
My first official client with a man was nothing new. I was dressed in a girl's school uniform when we met. He wanted me to call him Dad. I did what he wanted and played the part of his sissy son that was in love with his Dad. He abused me in every way possible. I tried to look at the positive side that he was not that blessed when it came to size. This did not stop him from demanding oral and anal plus the smoochy stuff like kissing. I tried to make the most out of it. The quicker he was pleased, the quicker the abuse was done
I said that this was like any other time. It was not. I saw the man give Amir some money and that made a huge difference. I was pimped out and was now officially a child prostitute. This made me feel like a sinner and dirty. It was something that I did not want.
As I walked home, I was going by a bridge. I looked at the water flowing below. It looked so peaceful. My life was so dark, humiliating, sinful and painful. I looked down at the water and for a minute I was thinking of jumping in. It would solve everything and finally give me peace. I would no longer be owned by someone or have to be rented out to old perverts. It would give me peace, but it would devastate Abbie, and who knows if Amir or someone else would introduce her to this disgusting world of child abuse. I looked down at the water and decided I would not end my life. There must always be some hope.
The Church was on the way home. It was no use going into the Church to pray to God. He must have been on summer holidays and decided to leave the problems of the Earth to men like Amir. Who knows, maybe God was mad that we crucified his son and decided not to watch over us anymore. I would not waste my time praying to God or Jesus. They never responded when I did and how would they allow a priest to kick me out of the choir and live to be a prostitute at my age!
The school was no fun place to be either. I had no friends and when they did speak with me it was teasing with harsh words. I was used to them by now telling me that I was a sissy and I was gay. I was used to being shoved and pushed. Sometimes I was even threatened with violence. It was still nothing compared to letting someone sell my body to paedophiles. Being bullied at school was a normal thing millions my age went through. It made me feel like any other normal boy.
There was a new boy at school. He was bullied just as much as I was. They called him a mothers boy and a geek. It was strange seeing someone else be bullied and have no friends. I even felt sorry for him at times. Maybe he wanted to have a friend. You think that would be a good idea. It did not go so well. When I tried talking to this new boy and becoming friends with him, he just retorted. He warned me to keep away from him. He heard that I was a "faggot" and he could see that I was a sissy. This new boy told me that it would destroy his image if he was seen with me! This shocked me and confirmed that I had a lower status than the school wimp. I had the lowest status at school.
Sighs.
That day, I went home and found mom cleaning the house. She looked a mess and it was so strange seeing her do housework. Then we were told why. The social worker visited the house today and threatened that we would be removed. This made me so confused as to how adults thought. If the social worker thought that we lived in a bad environment and if mom could not take care of us, then why would they not remove us straight away? I loved mom, but she could not take care of me or protect me from the likes of Amir. Social Services could! Did they have to fill out a mountain of paperwork before they took any action?
Mom told us that things would have to change. She had to stop being a prostitute and not touch any drinks or drugs. Mom sat on the sofa and started crying. She knew that she was a horrible parent and a bad influence on us. Besides that, she admitted that she was getting older and was not as beautiful as she once was. Drugs and alcohol do not help the way a person looked. We listened to mom as she went on and on about her failures and how she would get a normal job and be a normal parent for us. She was in tears as she begged us for forgiveness. Of course, we would forgive mom. We loved her and we believed that she would change. We ended up having a family hug and hearing promises that things would become better.
It seemed as of having a better life was a dream. I was pimped out more and more. There were even days when I missed school because Amir wanted me to "work". I would meet different men and they would tell me what they wanted me to do. There was no love or emotions when I was with them. It was pure business and lust. I slowly started to learn how to turn off my emotions and humiliation. I did what they wanted and tried not to think if I wanted to do it or not. I will admit, I did in a way hope that my body would like it. It did help a lot that I could turn off my mind and thoughts. It was after that I felt bad. I always felt dirty and as if I have done something wrong.
I had to live with the fact that I was a prostitute and was earning Amir a lot of money. I have seen when the men paid him and despite that, I was doing all the work, I saw a penny of it. This meant that I was not just a prostitute, I was a modern slave! As I saw money exchange hands every time, I was beginning to give up hope. I was starting to think that I would be a sex worker until the day that I died.
The men were not nice. They would say nice things when they first met me like I was very cute. I hated when they called me pretty. Then when they were abusing me, they would call me rude names. They would never use my name. I was either called sissy or faggot. They would say some strange things like they knew that I was enjoying this. Some would say that I was born to be used. A few men even said that they would be ashamed if I was their child. They did not care how I felt. They would remind me that I was just a whore and my only job was to open my legs.
Amir was proud of me. Why would he not be? He was earning a lot of money and he knew how to control me. I did not if he was proud of me or not. It made me think of how he groomed me. He made me think that he would be my friend. He made me feel as if he cared. Now I could see that he was just a psycho who thought that Christian boys as sex objects. The only thing I agreed with Amir was that he was happy that he decided to stop giving me those tablets. If I continued, I would need stronger and stronger drugs. Maybe drugs would be easier for me to cope with the abuse, but it would also mean that I would not care if I was a child whore or not. I would just accept this life and crave more drugs, doing what I was told no matter what this was.
Amir asked me about social services visiting us. Raghib told him that Abbie told everyone that they visited us. I did not want to say so much. Would Amir kill the social workers? I could not be responsible for more people being hurt or killed. I shrugged my shoulders every time he asked about them. I tried to say that I did not know what they were doing or wanted. I admit that I was also being strategic. I wanted social Services to take Abbie and me to some child's home.
I felt so alone. I was being abused and molested so many times. I was a child prostitute that was just a toy for everyone. I knew it was because I was cuter than most boys and I could be mistaken for a girl. I was sure that I would not be in this situation if I was ugly. Having sex was not the worse thing about all this. The guilt that I had was much worse. I could not forgive myself that I did not listen to my instincts and allowed Amir to slowly drag deeper and deeper into this life. I could not forgive myself that I allowed Amir to own me. I could not forgive myself that I did not dare to say no or get help.
Mom did not get better. She did give up her life as a prostitute and tried different jobs. She was fired each time. These destroyed mom's hope and she accepted she would just live off of welfare. This of course meant that we were poorer than we ever were. Mom would spend what money we had on drinks, so she was either drunk most of the time, or having a hangover. This meant that when I was not doing what Amir wanted me to do, I was taking care of Abbie.
Abbie was the one bright area in my life. I admired her spirit and her innocence. She had such a good heart. She made me smile. Abbie was the one person who loved me for who I was.
I trusted Abbie and told her that she was right when she said I changed a lot and that I was not as happy as I once was. I told her that my life was a mess. I was involved with the wrong group of people and they were making my life a misery, I did not tell Abbie the details. She understood that it was serious. We both understood that if social services sent us to a child's home, things could get better for both of us. Abbie understood this, but she was worried about mom and if our mother could be alone.
Amir had picked me up after school. He told me that it was not "a client". We drove for hours to a city that was far away. I was confused all the time but did not dare ask where we were going.
"We cannot allow Social Services to take you," Amir explained, "You are being moved to a special house and club with boys like you. I am giving you a new life!"
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