Page 5 of Dark Possession

A fierce possessive throb, the need to be needed, to be respected and admired, rose within the Bull’s chest, and it was just as strong as his sexual desires.

A man’s needs are never so simple as a hot, willing hole.

Toran was to be disappointed, for Jesse was not waiting for him at the doc’s cabin. The moment the whistle had sounded, Jesse had understood what it meant and that the Bull would soon be coming for him. In a panic, he had rudely fled from the doctor and the older man was unable to give chase.

But the boy had not gone far. He hadn’t gone far at all.

Jesse was lying flat on his belly under the next shanty over. With wide eyes, he watched the Bull’s giant boots stomp by. His lips quivered with fear. The big man wasn’t going to be happy to find him gone, not at all. He probably thought that since he had paid for Jesse to be patched up, Jesse would be waiting for him with big, grateful eyes, panting for his attention like a stray dog.

Well, fuck that guy.

He wasn’t going to be anyone’s dog and certainly not anyone’s wife. No, there had to be a way to make the other men here see him as a man. There had to be a way to mine enough coal to feed himself. He had been taking care of himself since he had been a small child and he hadn’t done it by bending over for older men. There were always other ways. Always. Had to be.

So he lay there on his belly in the dirt and tried to think of a way. Men walked by, some carrying pots of soup, meat or bread, and Jesse’s stomach rumbled so loudly he worried it would give away his hiding place. He was so very hungry and there was no food to be had anywhere.

Back in the streets where he came from there was always something to eat, if you knew where to look- in dumpsters and back alleyways, behind the fish market and vegetable stands. Other people’s trash was his treasure- his breakfast, lunch and dinner. He had grown up on rotten meat and vegetables and his stomach could take anything. It didn’t make him grow up strong and tall, not like these men, but it kept him strong enough to work. What little money he had earned he had taken back to his mother. She had been sick. She was dead now.

His mouth firmed at the memory and he turned his face away from the light. Tears prickled in the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t think of her. He wouldn’t.

But his mind fell back on her and the way it all ended. There hadn’t been many jobs for real women in the real world either. Cooks and seamstresses, in factories where little hands were useful (although children were cheaper) but mostly like the doc said- wives and whores. Jesse’s mother had been a wife, before she became a whore. She hadn’t had much choice in either. She died of syphilis, in a filthy room, covered in sores. The dead flesh between her legs smelled like the rotten fish Jesse had been forced to fill his belly with as a child.

If he never had to eat fish again, it would be too soon.

He’d had trouble keeping weight on ever since.

But then, all the food in the world would probably never have turned him into a big man like the Bull. Jesse took after his mother. He had her golden hair and blue eyes and the kind of fragile body that men liked to feel break in their hands. Her beauty had been nothing but a cross to bear. Beauty had crucified her.

Jesse laid his cheek down in the dirt.

It was dark now.

He closed his eyes. He still hadn’t thought of anything except stealing and that was what had gotten him into this mess. Stealing a mouthful of bread to keep him going for just one more day. He had a feeling if he took something that didn’t belong to him in here, it would cost him a lot more than his freedom this time. Especially with the kind of men he was locked in here with. No, thieving hadn’t brought him anything but misery. And what was there to steal here anyway?

His future was down in the mine, not on his back with his legs spread. Ten coal buckets a day. He was young. He was strong. He could do it. He would do it. Just because the doc said he couldn’t, that didn’t mean anything. He and Bull were friends so he probably just said those things to try and soften him up, intimidate him into giving in to the Bull.

Come the morning he would pick himself up off the ground and head to the main shaft just like everybody else. He’d get himself a pickaxe and a mining light and he’d earn his living just the way all the other men did. And he’d show them that he wasn’t a woman. Not a whore to spread his legs for any man with a diseased prick to shove inside and dirty him up. No. He’d not die crying for the pain of the sores in his mouth.

Maybe there were some things worse than death.

Maybe.

Jesse tried to imagine the blackness of death stealing over him the way it had over everyone he loved- turning what was once a human being into nothing more than bone and ash. He hated it. Hated it. Maybe it was the way of things. Maybe it came for everyone and everything, but he’d still put it off just as long as he could.

Secure in his plans, he let himself doze. Not sleep, but doze lightly. He still woke up every time feet came near his hiding spot. Sometime well after midnight he crept out and took a leak in the dirt, far enough a way he was sure it wouldn’t trickle back on him in his sleep. He was terrified the whole time. That little spot in the dirt was cold and hard, but at least nobody would be looking for him there.

When the grey light of morning fell, he wasn’t nearly ready to leave his hiding place. He waited until most of the men had passed before scrambling to his feet and brushing the dirt off himself the best he could.

The tiny blond walked towards the mine with purpose and determination, with his arms swinging and his head held high. He moved as if he had every right to be there, which he did.

He was the only one who thought so.

The equipment manager handed over his tools with a sneer. The helmet was dented on one side, the bulb cracked. Jesse wondered if the tiny light would even work. The pickaxe was noticeably blunter than the others he had seen. Jesse stared at them in a stun.

“Good luck,” the other man drawled out snidely, in a way that obviously meant the opposite.

Jesse didn’t know what to do. He was new here. Was he given the crummiest equipment as a right of passage or was it a slight against his pretty face and slight stature? And if he were to complain, what would be the result? Perhaps this man had complete control over the equipment and could choose to give him none at all. And, should he cause some sort of scene in the process, no good could come from drawing attention to himself.

With a tight smile, he removed himself from the situation. In this case no action was likely the appropriate action. He would just have to make do.