not for sale

                                    

                                          
  Connors known for selling himself on the streets and doesn't  think anyone would ever want him for anything more.
                          
      Troye kept a hard glare on the snow ridden ground,  watching as his feet sunk into the frosty white powder making his walk home much more difficult than usual. 
                          
  The temperature threatened to plummet even lower than its current freezing state, motivating Troye to scurry his way to the store and pick up some groceries so that he could hibernate at home for the next week, without exerting himself in the blizzard outside. 
                          
  He decided to take the shortcut home, not seeing any harm in quickly passing through a couple sketchy places that would make his journey much faster.
                          
    Almost back at home, the simplified pathway that he took lead into a long ally way, which made him slightly more hesitant towards perusing it. But then the developing numbness of his toes kicked him into gear, and he causiously continued into the darkness, humming to distract himself from the oozing  mold that grew on the walls. 
                          
  He stopped for a moment, nearly dropping his paper bag filled with food, when he could distinguish a threateningly rough voice around the corner. 
                          
  The stinging fear that automatically ran through him, directed his thoughts in the direction that most people would chose;
                          
   Whatever's going on over there doesn't concern me. Keep moving.
                          
  Troye nodded and reaffirmed his decision of ignoring the sharp voice and picked up his pace back into the light, when another identically nasty voice joined the first. He assumed they were fighting, and told himself they'd work it out. 
                          
  However, his theory proved to have some holes in it as he listened. He noted that the two men weren't fighting, they were agreeing on something, ganging up on someone.
                          
  The last sound that joined the group was what made him halt his movements and pause what he was doing. 
                          
  A third voice. Except this one was softer and at the moment sounded terried at whatever was happening to him. 
                          
  Troye plopped down his torn up paper bag and followed the source of the voices, silently snooping to investigate the situation. 
                          
  " P-please get away from me, i-I'm not for sale, anymore." 
                          
  Confusion fled Troyes mind, as he tried to decipher what that could mean. Not for sale? 
                          
  " I don't give a fuck about what you want." One of the gravely voices barked, and Troye cringed when he heard what sounded like a slap and then a whimper. 
                          
  He nervously approached the corner where the commotion was coming from and he silently peeked around it, inaudibly gasping. 
                          
  There were two burly men cornering a smaller boy his own age to the brick wall. Their victim was scantily clad, and shivering from the cold, covering up his body insecurely with his hands.
                          
  " You're such a slut." A muscly arm pushed him against the walls surface and the other man grabbed his thighs and groped at him, his finger nails leaving harsh marks on the boys fragile skin.
                          
  " Don't touch me! Get off!" The younger man tried to kick at his attackers but failed and ended up with a punch in the eye. 
                          
  " We'll do whatever the fuck we want to you, whore." The words were spat into the boys ears and his red face trembled with defeat. 
                          
  " Prostitutes are street property, your body belongs to us." Nasty words were pelted at the small, hazel haired, victim, as he squirmed under their heavy grip.