Day anymore, but himself. Some kind of stream of consciousness rambling that Day suspected happened often. Day really thought he might be sick. How different it all could’ve been if Carl had simply kidnapped him that night. He would have never met Jackson, would have never felt his kiss, his touch, would have never known what it felt like to have him inside his body, his heart. Jackson had made Day losing his virginity a moment that had meant something to him, even when Day had sworn virginity was just some mindless, human construct created to police people’s bodies. Jackson had made Day feel loved.
Day swallowed the lump in his throat. No matter what happened, Carl couldn’t take any of that away from him. Even if Jackson never found him. The last few weeks with him would be enough to sustain Day, no matter what came next.
“The clock is ticking, Day. I put your things in the bathroom. Mind the broken tile. There have been so many vandals and squatters since the motel shut down. You can’t shower, I’m afraid. No running water anymore. But I put a light in the bathroom for you. I want you to look perfect for our special night. It is your final performance, after all.”
The last comment froze Day’s blood in his veins, but he slowly crawled from the bed, aware of the gun tucked into the waistband of Carl’s filthy shorts. He recoiled at the spongy feel of the carpet beneath his bare feet. This had once been his home. He’d felt safe in this horror show of a room. He did his best to blink back the tears threatening to escape.
Once he entered the bathroom, he paused. There was a light on a tripod highlighting the gaping holes and graffiti on the crumbling walls. The mirror was cracked, tiny hairline fractures crawling along the glass like a spiderweb, as if somebody had punched the surface in a fit of rage. Was it Carl?
“Keep the door open,” Carl said from behind him.
True to his word, a bag full of makeup sat on the counter. Not Day’s makeup, but his favorite brands and products were in there. How long had Carl been watching him? His hands shook as he applied his makeup in the cracked mirror, doing his best to take his time without looking like he was deliberately dragging it out.
“That’s enough. Here, I bought you something special, for your special night.” Carl smiled, revealing a mouth full of chipped and broken teeth.
Day forced a smile onto his face as he took the zippered bag. “Thank you,” he said, batting his false lashes.
Day started to force the door closed, but Carl slammed a hand against it, his watery blue eyes hardening, his lips flattening into a thin line. “I said, door open,” he snapped.
Day’s heart skipped at the barely contained rage in his trembling voice and the spittle glistening on the man’s lips. He lowered his gaze. “Sorry, Daddy,” Day said, his organs quaking as he felt the words leave his lips. Sorry, Jackson.
Carl’s anger seemed to dissolve almost immediately. His rough hand with its filthy chewed nails cupped Day’s cheek, and he did his best not to recoil. “Get dressed, baby. I want to show you off to your fans. I want them to see how a real man treats his boy.”
The word ‘baby’ falling from Carl’s lips was a punch to Day’s heart, but he nodded and turned his back to lower the zipper on the bag. He recognized the lingerie immediately. It was designed by the same woman who did all his custom designs, but this one had been on a mannequin in the back. A custom order for a man online. A bridal set. Jesus. Carl was living out some kind of fucking wedding night fantasy with Day starring as the blushing bride.
How did this get so far out of hand? He withdrew the items, a lacy, deep-v camisole in snowy white and a matching set of lace panties that had a ruffle around the waistband and nothing to the back except two straps that hugged the bottom of each ass cheek. He wished there was more to it. Something complicated with lots of buckles, straps, and a thousand buttons, anything to slow the progression of what now seemed inevitable. But before he knew it, he was all finished. He turned and gave a shy smile. “How do I look?”
Carl’s beady, insect eyes took him in, his tongue darting