Eclipse Of The Moon ~ Book 1 of Aaron
Chapter 25
The City Of Death

Sunday 22 June 2003

"I'm going to work tonight."

That's how I get Jaden's full attention this morning when I walk into his room.

My friend is lying on his mattress, stark naked and staring into emptiness, but he suddenly sits up, eyes wide opened. I can't help looking at his privates and I'm happy to see that his balls have now completely deflated, and the tip of his cock doesn't seem to drip with the pus-like substance anymore.

"We said we'd wait until I'm fully healed!" he protests.

About ten days ago, the morning after I fled from that huge SUV, I forced my friend to go to the LGBT center. Throughout the night, I heard him get up every hour to relieve himself and he kept coughing a lot, so when he complained about a sore throat and pains down there, I didn't give him any choice and dragged him to get tested.

It seems like I did things well for once since he was diagnosed with gonorrhea, a sexually transmitted disease. The virus was still at its early stage, but because we had had oral sex recently, I was also tested yet declared non-contaminated. Thank fuck. Gonorrhea may be a curable disease, I'm glad I didn't catch it seeing there might be sequels. At least, it taught us a good lesson and in the future, we will be twice as cautious as before while giving head to strangers.

In the end, Jaden was rather lucky. His privates and his throat were sore for a few days, but things quickly went better thanks to the antibiotics he was given at the LGBT center. Nonetheless, unprotected sex remains forbidden for seven days after the end of the treatment, which takes him to mid of next week. He plainly rejected my offer to watch over me while I would do all the sucking work until he recovers, arguing that we had more than enough with the $500 I had gotten – or stolen... – from that wealthy gentleman.

To which I yielded. Until now.

"I know, but there's less than a hundred dollars left, and I don't want to run out of cash or wait for the last minute, Jay. I could try and do a few blowjobs while you write down the plates and wait," I insist.

"Or I could get back to work too..."

"No, you can't. I mean, what we do isn't great already, and we don't need to spread diseases or whatever. Let's just go with my suggestion and then we can resume our routine on next Thursday. How does that sound?"

"Okay... Why not..." he sighs. "But I'm feeling guilty, Aaron."

"Don't. I'm offering. I wouldn't if I minded. And I really don't want to run out of cash or dope like a month ago."

"Okay, fine, let's do that. I'm out of crack though, so I'll dress up and go get some. Do you want to come?"

"Nah, I'll stay here and I might call one of my friends on the East Coast too," I reply, already feeling anxiety clutch my guts at that thought.

Jaden sighs and gets up to hug me tightly. He has gotten used to my brooding moods whenever I mention my friends or call them, and I truly appreciate his support. Jaden and I aren't a couple, barely even true friends, more like fuck buddies, and yet, I'm grateful for his presence when I need and because it's nice to have someone I can lean on and vent my worries to.

Once my mate has left, I return to the main room to help Landon and Mario cleaning up a bit. That is definitely not my favorite activity, but when you live with other people, you have to abide by general rules. Dwelling in a squat doesn't mean it has to be dirty or in a total mess, especially when it's in an abandoned building where it's easier to keep things organized and clean. The encampments we visited and where we used to crash in parks or woods were much dirtier, but here it's different.

Celia, the 17-year-old from San Francisco left our group about three weeks ago after she managed to get a place at some shelter for youths where they provide housing and education programs for runaway teenagers who want to get out of the streets. This is good for her I guess, and maybe I should try something like this, but for now, I don't have the motivation to.

Her office-room didn't remain empty for more than a few days. Brett, who considers himself as some sort of leader here, quickly brought in two 25-year-old African-Americans, Xander and Donnie. The gay couple is really nice and the great thing is that Xander excels at DIY. Somehow, he managed to reach the water pipes and connect them to the old sink, so now we have running water, which is far more convenient than getting it from public restrooms or fire hydrants.

Anyway, there wasn't much to do in the living room, so I soon return to my own private space, and here, it's a different story. My clothes are scattered all over the room, most of them being dirty. Being on a roll, I bring myself around sorting them out as we will probably go to the LGBT center tomorrow to enjoy their laundromat and shower facilities, but as I empty my duffle bag, I happen to come across the folder where I keep all my important documents and for some reason, I unconsciously open it.

My school records come first. Skimming through them, I realize that they weren't that bad; they just could have been better since I was endowed with a certain easiness to learn. I really fucked up, especially last year. Had I been less stubborn and lazy, I could have provided myself with a better educational future. Perhaps I should accept help from the center and find a way to graduate, however, I can't do this until I turn 18, once I'm sure no one can force me to go back to my parents.

As I sit down on my mattress and lean against the smudged wall, more stuff escapes from the folder. One is 6 x 4 inches rectangle that careless rests between my thighs, face down. I shouldn't flip it. I should basically slip it back into the folder among its other siblings. Sadly, it's another of these times my limbs decide against my reason, and as soon as my eyes meet the four faces on the picture, they immediately fill with stinging tears and vivid memories flash back inside my head.

Mark, Josh, Cam and I were twelve back then. We had spent most of that winter Sunday afternoon searching the woods for material that could help the insulation of our shack despite the cold until we were close to turn into ice cubes. We had barged into the Murrays' restaurant, completely frozen and earning a scolding lecture from Sophia who groused that we would end up sick – and Mark did actually. She settled us at one of the tables nearby a radiator, covered us with blankets and firmly stroked our backs until we were warmer. The best part is that she then served us mugs of hot chocolate and homemade brownie.

Paul Murray took that picture. Four young boys in their early teenage life. Four faces with more or less pimples. Four best friends for life. Joshua and I haven't changed that much, I believe. Cam was much skinnier and it was about a year before his father was arrested and we learned about the ill-treatment he was enduring back then. Mark was still quite chubby and that's about when his body began to lose some of its roundness.

Running noses, four pairs of cheeks very red from the freezing cold outside, hair totally disheveled, but eyes glimmering with happiness. This is what I can see on this old picture, but it goes way beyond the mischievousness in these eyes. There is complicity, support and irrevocable love, because at that time, we had already grown into one unbreakable whole that nothing would ever manage to shatter. A bond that years only tightened to the point that we would share just anything.

Weirdly enough, it's with bittersweet melancholy that I realize we lost our respective virginities to each other exactly one year – and a few days – ago. Quite an incongruous timing to remember that day we all met at Joshua's house to experience the wonderful sensations of penetrating an asshole. The deal also included the less wonderful sensations of feeling a cock up our own asses, but I must admit that it wasn't as terrible as we feared.

All the same, I would rather focus on the best part, the one where I had Camden on all fours and I was ramming into his ass while Mark was fucking Joshua in front of us.

Discarding the picture and the folder on the mattress, I free my semi-hard from my jeans and underwear to gently squeeze it. As I begin to stroke it, my warm member swells between my fingers and soon reaches its full hardness as I reproduce Cam's tightness with my thumb and index. It's quite a dangerous game I'm playing here – emotionally speaking – and yet, I allow more memories of that afternoon flood my head, our groans of pleasure echoing in my ears as if I was still there.

As I recollect the way Mark and I had Josh and Cam kneel up and press against each other with us still pounding into their asses, a raging fire builds up inside my balls, making my breathing become heavier. My left hand naturally increases the stroking pace as I remember my tongue invading Mark's mouth while our two friends were also kissing and what throws me over the edge is the reminiscence of the powerful orgasm I experienced when I exploded inside Cam, similar waves of intense pleasure coursing through me right now.

Holy shit! That was so good! Sex has always been the best with my friends, maybe because of the tight bond that always existed between us. Whatever it is, I know that my fondest sex memories are with them, be it the time we lost our virginities, or every time we messed up at the shack or these two special occurrences when Danny joined us.

As I grab one of my dirty tee-shirts on the bed to wipe my left hand clean, I chuckle and think I should call Camden to tell him I just jacked off to fond memories of fucking his ass. Not sure he will appreciate this, but it might make for a less tense conversation than if I dwell on darker thoughts. I fish my old mobile phone in my backpack and when I switch it on, I'm glad to see half of the battery is still alive. I'll have to think of bringing the charger to the center tomorrow to refill it.

Before I call Camden though, I tuck my junk back into my pants and I also prepare two joints. One that will achieve to relax me before I speak with my friend and the second one for after, just in case I feel really down. It's about 2pm in New Jersey and today is Sunday, so I'm not sure he will be home, but I'll still give it a try, hoping I won't fall on his mother.

"Aaron!!! Aaron!!! Aarooooooooooon!!!"

Jaden's excited voice suddenly interrupts my relaxing moment. It's almost a squeal and I wonder what brought up such enthusiasm. The dark-blond-haired young man barges into my room, a huge grin plastered over his face, before he stops in his tracks. He is hiding something behind his back, and as he slowly wriggles toward me, I drop the butt of my joint in the beer bottle that I use as an ashtray.

"You won't have to work tonight, Aaron," he says mysteriously, kneeling on the mattress between my parted legs.

"Why? Did you win at the lottery?" I snort.

"I don't play, so I can't win," he replies, rolling his eyes. "But we can save the money we have for food only."

In front of my silence and my questioning expression, he pokes his tongue out childishly, then eventually brings his hands to his front and drops a package between us. It is a transparent plastic bag, through which I can easily see the contents, and I can't decide if I should be excited too, or scared. The bag is full of tablets with pills that bear various logos, small packages of marijuana and several chunks of cannabis.

"Where the fuck did you get that? Where did you get all this dope?" I ask in low voice after a long minute of silence, and as my eyes flick up to his face, I see a bit of hesitation dampen his prior excitement.

"I found it," he replies, shrugging his shoulders.

"You found it?" I repeat dubiously. I have a foreboding feeling about this, and it doesn't smell good at all. "You don't find that kind of things, Jaden," I comment, but as he remains silent, he also starts blushing. "Don't tell me you stole this?"

"I didn't really steal it!" he exclaims. "I actually bought pills from Miguel."

"And!?" I press him.

"He was in the courtyard of an old building. Seconds after I left him, there were police sirens and I went to hide behind a trash container. I saw him dump his stock in another container, but that idiot took the wrong way and got caught by the police. I saw them handcuff him and he was thrown at the back of the car. I waited for a long moment before I got out, and since nobody came to take the dope... Well, I just took it..."

His explanation leaves me speechless for a moment, while my mind processes the information, but when it hits me, I push him back and rise to my feet.

"Are you crazy, Jaden? Why the fuck did you do that?"

"I wasn't going to let it go to waste!!"

"Do you only realize what you've done? I mean... Fuck!! That guy's going to have your ass!!!"

"He's been arrested, Aaron!! There's no risk!!"

"Are you kidding me?" I scream with disbelief. "Do you really think they're going to keep him? The guy dumped his stock and the police didn't get it! That means he had nothing on him! They have no evidence of whatever traffic he was making! He'll be out in no time at all! For fuck's sake, he might already be out!!! And what do you think is going to happen when he sees his dope has disappeared? It won't take a genius to understand that you stole it because you were his last customer!"

Jaden's face falls as he ponders on my reasoning and fear appears on his face. We both startle when Brett walks into my room and takes in the situation. Shit! He must have heard me yelling at Jaden and if he had any doubts about the nature of Jaden's theft, they all fade away when he sees the package on my mattress.

"Is that Miguel's?" he asks Jaden.

"Yeah..."

"How long ago was it?" Brett asks with deep annoyance – or is that fear?

"I don't know... Maybe a couple of hours... A bit less..." Jaden replies in a small voice.

"You pack your shit and go away, Jaden!"

"What?"

"YOU'RE MOVING OUTTA HERE! RIGHT NOW!!!" Brett yells at him.

"Why?" I interfere.

"I don't want Francisco's gang barging here!"

"I thought his name was Miguel..." I argue.

"Miguel is one of Francisco's dealers!! Francisco's a gang leader!" Brett explains, fear now obvious in his voice.

"Jaden can bring back the drugs and everything will be fine!" I reason, which only makes Brett snort.

"You're so naïve, Aaron. You don't know a thing about the reality of life. Francisco's gang is one of the most powerful in the area, one of the most dangerous! They don't give second chances, they don't even listen to explanations or apologies, they just liquidate," he tells me dryly before he returns his attention to Jaden. "You'll be lucky if you get out of the neighborhood without being shot. If I were you, I'd hurry up. I doubt Miguel's already out, so you may have a chance, but don't waste any time. And go as far as possible. Far from LA! Far from California! AND FAR FROM HERE WITHIN THE NEXT TEN MINUTES!! YOU'D BETTER HAVE LEFT WHEN I COME BACK!"

With that, he spins on his heels and scampers out, probably scared to see said Francisco or Miguel show up. Jason and Landon have joined, alerted by the shouting, and so have all the other inhabitants of the squat that were present. They watch Brett run out, and with threatening looks at Jaden, they also dart out of the building.

Jaden is petrified, still sitting on my mattress and shivering. He'll never make it on his own, and I can't resolve to leave him alone. I just can't let him die. Without giving it too much thought, I tell Jaden to move his ass, then quickly gather all my belongings and shove them inside my duffle bag and my backpack. I just make sure that the rest of the cash, my wallet and all my important documents get in the plastic bag that I slip inside my jeans.

"What are you doing, Aaron?" Jaden suddenly asks.

"I'm going with you! Now please, move and go get your stuff!!"

"That might not be a good idea..."

"We don't have time to think about it, Jay, so just go!!" I scream at him, and he eventually gets up.

Since he's better organized than I am, his clothes are always in his own bag, as if he was ready to be on the go at any moment, so within three minutes, he's back into my room with his stuff ready. I suddenly remember Landon recently used a hoodie of mine, so I quickly go to his own room to get it. When I come back to my room, Jaden is zipping my duffle bag, so I put on my sweatshirt and we both head out.

Fuck! We had a great place to stay at and that idiot had to ruin everything. Yet, I can't leave him alone to deal with his own shit, because I'm just not like that. He was here to help me in the beginning, and I have to return him the favor. I don't know where we are going to go now, but Brett is right, we must go away, far, far away.

"I'm sorry, Aaron..." Jaden says as we walk along the pavement in the warehouse zone. The area is quiet since it's Sunday, but I keep looking around for any suspect sounds.

"It's okay... We'll find a new place..." I reply as cramps creep in my lower belly.

Shit! I should have used the restroom before we left because my bowels are writhing. I don't know if it's the result of something I ate or the stress, but it's quite urgent. As we pass by an alley, I stop walking and tug on Jaden's hand. "Wait! I need to relieve myself. I'll be right back!" I say before I rush into the narrow the street.

This one is really empty, no trash containers or anything to hide, so I walk to the far end and turn left around the corner into an even narrower street which has several dumpsters. I pull one of them to hide behind, drop my bags on the ground, then retrieve the pack of baby wipes from my backpack before I get to what I have to do. I am ready to head back when I hear the screeching sound of tires on the road, and a gunshot followed by a low scream.

Fuck!!! Jaden!!!

As I am about to rush for help, shouts erupt from the other street and a little voice tells me I must not go. That voice reminds me of what Brett said and even if Jaden gives them their stock back, they'll probably kill him. I have no idea of how many guys there are, but I can decipher several voices – many voices – all of them shouting. There are loud thuds too, but would I be really of any help if I went to give a leg up?

Come on, Ron!! You can't let him down!!!

It's a lost battle! They'll kill you!!!

Go, Aaron! He's your friend!

"I don't... have... them..." Jaden's weak and strangled voice reaches my ears.

"Did you give them to your mate? The tall brunette?" a louder growl asks, and I think I can recognize Miguel's voice.

Shit! Of course, he would think of me! Most of the time, Jaden and I are together when we get our drugs!

Run for the hills, Aaron!!

"No..."

"Liar!!! Where is he?"

Go away, Aaron!! JUST FUCKING GO AWAY!!!

The voice keeps rehearsing in my head, trying to get louder than the blows and groans over there. For some reason, Camden, Joshua and Mark's images appear before my eyes. My three best friends. The ones I am missing so much. They would hate me for the rest of their lives if I died, and in the end, this is what eventually pushes me to give up.

"I'm so sorry, Jay..." I whisper in a sob as tears blind my sight.

As silently as I can, I turn around and walk in the opposite direction, and when I'm far enough, I start running between the buildings, following the empty streets. Barely three minutes later, several gunshots resound in the distance and more tears spill from my eyes, but I keep running. My lungs ache from my heavy breathing, probably a result from the smoking, but also my heavy load, yet I forbid myself to stop.

At some point, I reach a busier area and it becomes more residential. I have gone around in so many circles that I don't know where I am anymore. For sure, I'm still downtown LA. After a while, I get to recognize the outskirts of Chinatown though and begin to feel safer, so at the first park I come across, I look for a quiet spot surrounded by bushes and collapse on the ground against a tree.

My chest is painfully heaving, making me feel like my heart is about to explode, my throat is aching, utterly dry from all the air I inhaled too fast, and I have a catch in the side that prevents me from sitting upright. I try to focus on calming down, but long minutes happen before I recover a regular breathing which my tedious sobs don't help. It seems like my body has decided to get rid of all its salty water, tears just can't stop streaming from eyes as I take in the situation.

Just take care of yourself and stay safe. I don't know what made you run from wherever you were to California, but I assume you must have weighed the pros and the cons before you made your decision. You look like a steady and down-to-Earth type of guy, so I trust you not to do any mistake... Don't just try. Build yourself a nice future, I'm sure you're capable of it.

Vance's words rehearse in my head and I realize how the ambitious truck driver was wrong on my account and my future. I have been clearly incapable to stay safe and build myself a nice future. Instead, I have made mistake after mistake. Too lazy to persist in finding a job when I arrived in LA, I let myself fall in some of the traps of homelessness. I'm not putting the blame on Jaden, because he only wanted to help, and I am the sole responsible person for the choices I made with drugs and prostitution.

If Cam, Josh or Mark came to know a hundredth of the truth, they would certainly beat the crap out of me, and I would deserve every blow. They would be so upset and disappointed. I have ruined everything, I became a junkie who can only think about getting his fix of shit to feel better, which is exactly what I am doing now. The second joint I had rolled earlier is helping me to relax a bit, but I am still very conscious of the mess I'm in, so I make myself another one.

Did you give them to your friend? The tall brunette?

And as if things weren't bad enough, I might have a dealer after me now. Though Francisco's gang will certainly have found their drugs now. I don't think the package was still on the mattress when we left, so I assume Jaden put it in his bag and they must have searched it back there in the alley. But why did they have to kill him then?

Francisco's gang is one of the most powerful in the area, one of the most dangerous! They don't give second chances, they don't even listen to explanations or apologies, they just liquidate!

Brett's warning flashes back in my head at that moment and I realize he was right. I was so naïve thinking that giving back the stock of drugs would change a thing. Miguel, or whoever it was, still shot Jaden dead.

But was he really dead? Could he have survived?

Fuck!!

What if he did survive? He'd need help!!

My memory is a bit blurry and I didn't exactly count the shots I heard when I ran away, but there were many, so I doubt Jaden was given a chance to survive.

Does it alleviate my guilt? No, not really. I still left him bathing in his blood and I'm so shameful about that.

But what else could I have done? They would have certainly killed me too if I had gone to help my friend. These guys usually don't like witnesses. And they might still consider me as such, so I really need to move on and go away. But where? I feel like I have to start things all over again, except that I no longer have as much cash as I had when I arrived in Los Angeles.

Leaning against the tree now that I have reached a quieter breathing, I pull out the plastic bag from my jeans to count the cash I have. Eighty-five dollars are all I own. Great. Just fucking great. I wouldn't mind continuing prostitution for a while, but without Jaden, will I feel safe enough?

Perhaps you could ask for Joshua's help? He'd gladly send you more cash...

NO WAY! NO FUCKING WAY! That would mean confessing what the real situation is, and I can't have that. I don't want to disappoint him.

I need to settle in another city, or at least a new neighborhood. I can't stay around here and risk meeting Miguel and this Francisco's gang again. This is all fucked up...

Nervously tucking the notes inside my wallet, my hands are shaking so badly that a small rectangle of cardstock with a name and contact details escapes from the card holder. I have lost count of how many times I have stared at Tony Jacobson's name in the past few months, wondering whether I should call him or not.

There are my numbers here, at home and my mobile phone. I just want you to know you can call either of them at any time, day or night, if anything happens to you or if you need me, is this clear?

Yes, crystal clear. I'm too tired to properly think about what time it is in New Jersey. It's probably late and I can imagine that Tony is enjoying a nice evening with his adorable Liz, but it's not even what discourages me from calling the man I could seek support from. No, it's just shame and pride. Shame for what I have become and pride because despite all my failures, I'd still like to prove I can pull through on my own.

With a heavy sigh, I push my darkest thoughts to the back of my head and grab a baby wipe to clean up a bit. I haven't shaved in a week now, but maybe I shouldn't bother with that anymore and grow a beard. I hate how itchy it gets with the heat though and to be honest, not being very hairy, it doesn't really look great.

Once ready, I sweep my backpack and the heavy duffle bag on my shoulders, then start off out of the park. My stomach is rumbling, but it comes as no surprise when I realize how late it is. I can hardly believe I stayed zoning out for so long in that park, so it's already past nine. I am also feeling faint from the lack of food today and I dearly regret I didn't grab a few things from the squat. I stop by the first fast-food restaurant on my way, where I get myself a small burger and use the restroom, then I am out again, headed north. I think.

It's dark outside and I keep peering around at the people I cross, not feeling entirely safe, almost sick with an ominous feeling. The streets are buzzing with partiers who are talking loud and laughing as they walk into and out of bars or restaurants, obviously eager to enjoy a night out. There are a lot of Latinos around here and everywhere I look, I see Miguel sneering at me, so I pick up speed, willing to reach quieter neighborhoods as soon as possible.

On the pavement across from me, there is a long line of young – and less young – people waiting for the nightclub they are queuing for to open. Several bouncers are trying to force them into a straighter line so that they don't occupy the entire width of the sidewalk and let passers-by walk more easily. I wish I could be one of these carefree youths, surrounded by my friends and about to enjoy a nice evening of fun, but this is not my case. I am a homeless teenager, not even an adult, and all my friends are far away from me.

So, I move ahead, ignoring the pang in my heart and thinking I should maybe sneak into quieter streets to avoid bumping into strollers, but that's when I see him, and I stop dead in my tracks.

He is right here, only a few feet in front of me, sitting at a table outside on the terrace of a pub and dogged by many comrades. If I had been lucky, he wouldn't have seen me, but I guess he must have felt my stare on him. As his head slowly tilts in my direction, Miguel's cold brown eyes squint at me, freezing me on my spot.

I shouldn't be afraid, after all he got his drugs back, but the way he nudges his left neighbor and nods at me doesn't bode anything good. In fact, several of his friends immediately jump to their feet, including him, and lunge toward me.

Thank goodness, my muscles comply with the orders my brain is throwing at them for once. I spin on my heels and start running in the opposite direction. There is so much I can do with all my luggage though, so I get rid of my duffle bag as I pass again in front of the discotheque and try to run faster.

Sadly, I must have been too long to react and I'm soon grabbed and dragged into a narrow alley. Massive arms push me back, throwing me on the ground, and I am not given a chance to escape before two guys pull me up, holding my arms. Miguel's ferocious stance slowly inches to me, his eyes wild with fury and hate. I am writhing within the other men's hold, but there's nothing I can do to protect myself from the fist that connects with my stomach and I would have bent over if it weren't for the guys keeping me straight.

"Where's the dope?" Miguel asks in a seething tone, leaving me confused.

Didn't he get it from Jaden earlier?

"Don't know..." I reply painfully.

"You fucker, you're going to die! Lo matas!!"

I have never been very good in Spanish, but I know what to expect at these words, and as if on cue, blows start pouring down on me. The two bastards on each side of me hold me too firmly and I can't even defend myself. After a few punches on my face, I get to taste blood in my mouth. Shoes are kicking my legs, one even reaching my groin and causing me to blurt out a loud whimper, then there are more fists that hit my chest and my abs refuse to contract anymore to absorb the blows. What almost knocks me out is a heavy blow against my temple.

My body goes limp and the fuckers let me collapse on the ground. I wish it could end there, but they keep kicking me. My body is aching, there is no way I will be able to get out of here alive. Why don't they simply shoot me down like they did with Jaden? Why do they have to make it painful like this? I don't want to die, but if my time has come, I wish it would go fast!

You'd better not die, you jerk!! We need you!!!

I don't know why Mark's voice suddenly echoes in my ears, but unfortunately, it's only audible enough to make me think about my friends. My best friends. They're going to hate me for leaving them, but I can't fight anymore. I failed in every way.

Later tonight, someone will discover my dead body and once at the morgue, they will find my ID in my wallet. The police will call my parents to inform them that their son was found dead and they probably won't give a shit about it. They'll certainly think I got what I deserved. 

Somehow, Mark, Joshua and Camden will learn the sad news, probably tomorrow or in the next few days. I wonder if they will cry over my coffin, go to my funeral, miss me. They might be the only ones to, actually. I can already imagine their faces, streaked with tears, the three of them in black suits, supporting each other.

I hate seeing them suffer...

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!!!" a deep and raging voice growls nearby, causing the blows to stop while I'm on the verge of fainting.

"Get out of here! This is none of your business!!" Miguel yells with his Spanish accent.

"And we said LEAVE HIM THE FUCK ALONE!!" a third voice insists as more footsteps echo.

Weirdly enough, that voice kind of rings a bell to me, but I can't pinpoint where I heard it before. My mind is too hazy, I can't even open my eyes and I eventually let darkness welcome me.

Published on 23 October 2019

That's it, guys! You can exhale a deep breath of relief since it's the end of the painful era! It doesn't mean that things will all get easier, but with Ivan around, it will be brighter for sure.

I apologize to those who are going to claim I didn't give warnings about Jaden, but I had two reasons for that. One is that, contrary to Timmy, I don't think that I made this character very attaching, and then, I can't give warnings all the time as they often give out too much on the plot. That's really sad for the young man, but he was just another temporary character I needed to get rid of (said like that, it's really horrible *shudders*) and I chose the easy way out. Kind of like with Chris. However, these things happen for real, so that's what it is.

Anyway, it's about high time to let Mr. Vargas in, the man who's at the start of everything for this series, and since there is a huge, huge lot to say about this specific character, I will publish an intermission chapter a bit later this week and in any case before the next chapter.

Just a little side note: for those who keep checking the last two parts of this book (the list of characters and the chronology), I just wanted to let you know that I usually update it weekly with events and new characters, but it sometimes doesn't sync in your Wattpad. You may have to refresh your library and if it still doesn't work, try to delete and add the book again.

See you next week for a surprising encounter!