Well, that’s what it looks like

“You want a blowjob?” He said as, the engine purring in the dark, save for the soft glow of the street light.

“No.”

Energy. Adrenaline. Nerve, here I’m bored. Verve is his curse. Because. Because.

“Do you go to school around here?” The electric window groaned as it rolled down. Quickening the pace, I ducked into a nearby bookstore.

“You wanna ride?” Little boy, you look nice. I’d like to fuck you. Fuck you good. Fuck you like you should be fucked. Ack. Well, that’s what it looks like. That’s where I run. That’s where my pulse jumps and the panic amps my senses. That’s where it is. That’s where I was. Pupils wide. Darting glances. That’s what it looks like.

And I thought I was going to die that day. That car, that evil, that permeating stench of child fuck, that dark, dreary underworld that I refused. It was black. It was scarred. It was bloody. It was drawn and stained and the void, when it calls, you don’t call back. The beast was hidden in plain sight. I saw it. And, well, that’s what it looks like.