Myocardium

"Damnit, Silver. Wait up!" I hear Crystal's hoarse, exhilarated voice almost echo through the room as a laugh when I am about to leave the changing rooms. The lady dressed in a lot of pink, yet with minimal clothing covering her body gives me a playful shove to catch my attention, so she can use her thumb to wipe away the remains of the white powder beneath my nose.

"Thanks, babe."

Almost tripping over my own feet, I hurry out the room where seven people, all equally fucked up and out of their minds, try their best to untangle the mess they call their lives. Once again, I can't help but wonder why I'm doing this to myself. 

Well, it's not like I don't know the answer by heart already. It's just that this is pure torture, every single second of it. The mere thought of the sort of people I might encounter tonight cinches my lungs tight, just like a corset. 

It's almost as if I'm at the verge of suffocating. 

"Come on, Elijah, you're doing it for them!" 

With my thoughts going astray from the original target, I bite the inside of my cheek and put on my invisible mask. The painted face and sunny attitude won't budge for as long as I am around clients. 

I could never afford the costs that would come with. 

Whenever I'm with customers, I'm Silver, the cute, cocky 21-year-old with a pretty face and fit body, longing to be their sex doll. Dressed in short, uncomfortable leather clothes, chokers, thigh-highs, iridescent tops, and sometimes even high heels. 

God, how I hate that this...person, this alias of mine is even a part of me. I am so, so ashamed of him and the revolting things he lets people talk him into. 

When I'm at home, I'm Eli. 

Just Eli. 

Sasha and Daisy's older brother, playing both their father's and mother's role all at once at only 20 years of age. No makeup, no high heels, only hoodies and sweatpants to hide myself behind the comfort of the soft fabric. 

At night, I'm being used and abused by any and all imaginable forms these cruel animals come in, usually twice my age or up. To them, I'm a toy. A cute, interesting doll they can manipulate however they please. For the time I'm with them, I'm theirs. I believe that must be the hardest part about working here.

Giving up my humanity, selling my soul to these people I don't know. 

My body, my heart, my conscience. At this point, I'm not even sure I am even entitled to call them 'mine' anymore. 

During the day, I'm a student, a brother, just a regular someone. The guy living across the street. Maybe even the handsome man at the coffee shop or the hallway crush you'd never ask out. 

Despite my busy days and nights full of terror, my siblings are always my number one priority. 

'You need me, you call me.'

I'll be honest, managing this particular type of work and undergrad college courses at once is challenging, but that will never stop me from spending every possible moment with my siblings. 

Yes, I do manage, but not without constant struggles to keep up. However, I consider myself lucky, as my siblings are both understanding and responsible. 

They don't know what their big brother does at night, and I am praying that they will never have to find out. All that matters is that I'm doing it for their well-being, so we can afford all the things their little hearts spark for.

Sasha and I have many talks about reliability, and he knows exactly that he is the one in charge of looking after our little sister when I'm not home. Daisy knows that too. She is a quiet, but strong-minded girl. Yeah, she must have gotten that trait from me.