Innocent Blood

June is 15. She doesn't have a family, or any life to be proud of.

July is 16. He doesn't have a family, or any life to be proud of.

These two young adolescents are part of a society that is falling apart around them. They are 'Innocents".

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2. July

 

My name is July, I'm 16 years old, and I am a 'young male adult'. My eyes are the same green as Christmas tree needles, and my hair is the brown of the glossy chocolate éclairs served at Upper-society parties. I am tall for my age, and my teeth are naturally straight. In a normal description, my dental status wouldn’t matter. But to me it does, because it is the thing that got me my job as Lord Risington Jr's Shadow.

I wear cheap, durable clothing, and live in the Shadow Centre in the Dwellings. I haven't lived the usual life for a teenage boy in the Dwelling.

As an orphan, I was sold into slavery, until a fight with an Up boy made me undesirable on the slave market. I was 13 at this point, so of course the next option for me was prostitution. I was used by both men and women in their plea for satisfaction. Until one day I snapped. I was just 16, and had had enough of being used by people in such sickening way of coping.

So I turned to last option other than poverty and destitution. I became a shadow of the son of a family (who had probably used me at some point in the past). I hate every last person in the Up society, yet I am now forced to serve them like a dog. 

Today was my first job. And I wasn't looking forward to it. The other innocents seemed to be jealous of how the seniors had given me such an important day to start shadowing on. Apparently my experience in charming Ups, and me being used to their company was needed to secure another engagement that would lead to yet another child being born into the Upper-society. An idea that I found sickening.

"Wake up kid." a low, familiar female voice growled in my ear as I pretended to be asleep. "We don't appreciate lay-abouts like you. You idiot." I opened one eye and stared at the face of the speaker. "Angie?" I murmured, propping myself up and squinting at her face in the bright light. She grinned and exhaled a puff of smoke from between her scarlet lips. "Yeah, I thought it'd be best if I made you my project before some other bitch laid a finger on your beautiful face."

Yep, it was definitely Angie. I got out of bed and stood next to her casually as I scratched my head. "When the fuck did you get so grown up?" she asked me, realising that I was the same height as her.
"You know when you left the whore house when I was 14? Around then." I replied, pulling on a t-shirt and following her out of the room.

"Why did you leave Angie?" I continued as she sat me in a chair in front of a big mirror and stared hard at my features. "Same reason you left I guess..." she answered before holding my chin up firmly and attacking my face with a flannel. I sprang up and frowned at her; "I figured that much, but why couldn't you take me with you?" I inquired before squirming as she pinned me against the wall and continued to scrub dirt off my face.

"What the hell are you doing!?" I shouted as she held me against the wall and picked up a small powder compact. She sighed and pushed my chin up so I couldn't talk before replying to my questions; "Because, I wasn't exactly allowed to leave. Let alone take their best junior with Me." she took the make-up out and started to apply it to my unwilling face. "And the make-up is to make you look as much like little Lord Risington as possible. So shut up or I will take this lovely body of yours and make it a lot less pretty”.

I couldn't believe how different she had made me look as I was escorted out of the building a few hours later. I was wearing a blonde wig, and my skin was an extremely pale tone. It felt as if I were wearing a mask of someone else’s face. Before kicking me out of her room, Angie had let me know that ‘the job wasn't going to be an easy one and that under no circumstances could I lash out at anyone’. To be honest, the woman always scared the shit out of me. She had been there when I was first employed by the whore house, and she had pretty much taken me under her wing. Teaching me how to act happy and take any pain I felt and swallow it all (mentally and physically). She was my guardian angel, and practically my mother.

I sat in the back of a big black car as I contemplated how I was going to act. I'd been handed an extremely detailed profile of the kid I was impersonating. He was 18, and by the looks of it, a complete asshole. "Hey kid, would you do that top button up? You've got to look the part to convince these people." my driver hinted. He was employed by the shadowers, And was here to make sure everything went smoothly. 

 Which turned out to be easier said than done.

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