The night air was cold despite the early spring warmth just a few hours before.  The smell of dusk was fading, replaced with a crisp scent that could only be produced from concrete walls and cigarettes. 

He shivered in his thin jacket and gripped his walking cane tightly.  Gravel crunched beneath his feet as they traveled a familiar route.  Left ten steps, right twenty steps, and then left again.  The path in his mind was well travelled; his walking cane barely useful to him anymore on his way to work.  Sounds of the night filled his ears; footsteps in the distance of other people, the passing of vehicles a few houses over, and a distant screech of an irritated cat.

Almost a year he had been living the outside life and still, he had trouble getting used to sounds.  It was hard to change old habits, it was true.  Every noise before had brought him a dreading sense of terror; every dragging footstep, every echoing laughter, and every creak of the door had meant a new customer… a new pain… a new wish for a release that could only come from death.

He could never have dreamed that he would survive.  The abolishment of the Dolls system shook the nation; the support for it overwhelming in political realms.  It was something he had only dared to hope for in the deadest of nights, when he was finally left alone to heal from the pain in darkness.

Though, he thought now as he waited nervously to cross the street, he was always in the darkness.  How many years had it been since he was robbed of his sight?  He couldn’t quite remember.  Time passed differently for him and made things hard to keep track of.  Or perhaps the brain damage from the blow to the back of his head had stolen more than just his sight… it may have stolen his memories too.

No matter, he decided as the streetlight beeped with approval, he was living a new life now.  There were no more masters to serve, no more pain to be expected.  He had an identity now.  He had a small apartment to live in, a job to go to… he had a name. 

Kim Seokjin.

It was a name he had been forbidden to use for the past sixteen years of his life.  His memories before the age of ten were fuzzy at best.  Life before the Nursery was hard to imagine, much less remember.  He must have had parents, a home, and a family.  He imagined green grass and faint smells of dew but wasn’t sure if they were memories or mere imagination.

Life after the Nursery was difficult to forget.  Sold shortly after his branding, memories of his first master were unkind and haunting.  Pain and fear were his closest friends, his only solace found during the hours just before sunrise when his master would sleep like the dead.  His second master had not been much better.  The lasting damage from his head wound had been unexpectedly permanent.  The permanency led to his resale at the nearest Dollhouse.  From there his days only grew dimmer.  His face and body had been popular; rest breaks between customers were only given to him so he could be cleaned properly before the next use.  Those days were a blur of unconsciousness, mental detachment, and numbness.  The drug Sugar had helped him take the edge off the pain; it was administered freely to Dolls inside the Dollhouse, something he was at least grateful for.  Dulling the senses but heightening ual arousal, it was a must for active Dolls.  Nowadays, it is an illegal drug sold on the black markets.

It was incredible how things have changed in merely a year.  Though he knew of his origins, he often wondered what the expressions of others were like when they laid eyes upon him.  Were they looks of shock?  Disgust?  Perhaps wonder… he would never know. 

It didn’t matter, he told himself over and over again.  He was now a citizen.  He was now free.

He shook off a burst of negativity as he reached for the handle of the door to his workplace.  Taking a deep breath, he pulled the doors and stepped inside.  Freedom… it was an ironic word to use.  It was difficult, some days, to appreciate all that he had been given with the passing of the bill and its laws.

Days, or rather nights, like tonight.

Warm scents of vanilla and cinnamon wafted across his nose as the doorbell clinked gently.  Before he could open his mouth, he heard footsteps rushing towards him.  He willed his heart to slow down as a fist of anxiety gripped him.

“Finally!” a hoarse but shrill voice boomed, “Hurry up!  You have a customer waiting.”

He felt a big hand grip his arms and near drag him towards the back where the employee change rooms were.

“I-” he manage to stutter before he was promptly pushed sideways into what he assumed was his locker.

“Don’t talk,” the voice, belonging to his manager, snapped, “Change quickly and get to your room.  He’s already waiting.”  Angry footsteps began but stopped suddenly, followed by a snappy, “And he wants the special massage.”

Seokjin’s fingers paused midway as he ed his jacket.  The special massage… he felt his stomach weigh down with anxiety.  Giving himself a little shake, he changed into his uniform and made his way towards his work room.  The scent of vanilla made him sick; it reminded him far too much of his days at the Dollhouse.  The smell seemed to permeate his senses particularly badly when he had to provide a special massage. 

Washing his hands in the bathroom on the way, he took three nauseating breaths before knocking on the door.

“Come in,” came a deep booming voice from inside.

He gripped the door and steeled himself.  It was just a massage, he reasoned with himself.  Only his hands, he mentally recounted the numerous times he had already done this in the past few months since being placed in this particular massage parlour.  It would be over quickly, he prayed silently before stepping inside.

The same scents hit him hard.  The room was warm with soft notes of relaxing music already playing in the background.  He imagined it to be dimly lit with as much peace and calmness incorporated into the interior décor as possible. 

His customer grunted and shifted on the bed, cuing him to start his services.

He bowed in the direction of the noise and said softly, “I’m your masseuse.  Please let me know if I cause any discomfort.”  When he received no answer, he proceeded to reach to his right where his oils were all placed.  Slipping on his working belt, he tucked the small oil bottle into his waist and got to work.

The faster the better, he thought, squeezing a bit of oil into his hands and warming it.  Reaching forward, he touched hesitantly until his fingertips brushed against skin.  Using his hands to guide him, he fanned out his fingers and ran oil along the stretch of the man’s back.  He worked silently, his mind carefully blank.  The timer in his back pocket would buzz when the hour was up; that would be his cue to finish and leave… and leave he would quickly do.

“How long do you plan on rubbing my back?” the man grunted, his voice clearly irritated, “That’s enough.” 

Seokjin felt a hand grab his wrist and fought the urge to cower.  His heart raced in his ears as he heard sounds of shifting weight.  His hands were roughly pulled forward and placed atop a bulge over than man’s pants.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he reached above and began undoing the belt.  Quickly… quickly.  The belt was slippery under the oil but it came off easily enough.  The man helped wriggle his pants down with a barrage of grunts and groans and, soon, Seokjin’s hands felt the thin fabric of underpants.

He cleared the disgust from his chest, something he had long since grown accustomed to doing, and began rubbing the .  He did his best not to visualize but it was difficult; images of his past danced across the darkness of his eyes, something he wished he could have been blind to instead.

Soon, the man’s heavy breathing filled the room.  Guttural groans and the scent of sweat filled the room and invaded Seokjin’s senses.  It wasn’t until he felt a hand on his own crotch that he took and small step back and paused.  He knew it might have been coming; he had hoped it wouldn’t.

“I-I’m sorry,” he said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice, “We don’t provide that service here.”

The man grunted and shifted in his bed.  “Like hell you don’t,” he growled.

This man was aggressive; Seokjin recognized that immediately.  Usually, when he declined their advances, they backed down.  On the very few occasions when they didn’t, he would end the massage quickly and leave the room.

He decided on the latter without hesitation.  He would deal with his manager later; he had to leave the room as soon as possible.  Every fibre of his being screamed danger.  He bowed quickly and mumbled a speedy apology before turning to the door.

Before he could take a step forward, he felt a calloused hand grip his arm and pull him backwards.  His mouth opened in a silent yelp as his back hit the bed with force.  His heart raced in his chest and panic flooded through him.

“No-” he said quickly but was muffled as the hand clamped down on his nose and mouth.  He struggled to breathe; the arm around his neck was strong.  He felt hands rip at his shirt and pull at his work belt.  It pulled off easy and fell to the floor with a dull clatter.  He clawed at the hand covering his face and wriggled desperately.  He let out a muffled cry as he felt something warm and wet run along his nape.  Heavy breathing filled his ears and tears flooded his eyes.

His mind raced frantically.  With one last ditch effort, he rammed his back into the bed again.  He felt the furniture wobble before toppling to the side; massage beds at this parlour were not as sturdy as they should have been, something he had learned quickly when his first customer fell off the bed and got him in trouble.

Finally breaking free, he scrambled to his knees and reached for the door.  Praying he hadn’t lost total direction, his hands gripped the knob and, with one hard pull, the door came open.  He heard swearing behind him followed by the loud banging of the massage bed being kicked to the side.

He had no time to count steps back to the change room.  He would have to fun straight down the hall towards the front lobby.  From there, it was a short left turn before the front door.  All thoughts of consequences left his mind; the only thing he could think of now was to run.

So he did.

He barreled blind down the hall, thankful that décor was sparse in the narrow hallway.  He ran face first into the wall and fell back a few steps before regaining his footing and turning left for the door.  It was exactly where he had pictured it to be.

The chilly outside air blasted his face as he took off down the road.  The cold brushed against his bare chest; the buttons on his shirt had been torn.  Several times, he tripped over raised steps and street curbs.  Fortunately, cars were sparse at this time of night so running across a road blindly didn’t get him killed.

After what seemed like a good distance, Seokjin stopped and leaned against a wall.  He sank down to his knees and tried to regain his breath.  He knew he was in trouble; not only had he run out on a customer, he had left work and ran into the streets without any thought of direction.  He was not only likely fired… but also very desperately lost.

He touched his face and wiped the tears from his eyes.  No, he reminded himself calmly, he would find his way home.  He could ask for help; it wasn’t strange for a blind young man to be lost at night was it?  No one knew he was an exDoll.  It would be dangerous, yes, but it was even more dangerous to stay out in the streets until daylight in his condition.

Taking a few shaky breaths, he got to his feet and held his shirt closed with one hand.  With the other, he reached into his back pocket for his clock.  He pressed the button for the time and an electronic voice rang out.  It was nearly midnight.  His shift was only four hours and was supposed to last until 3 AM.  It wasn’t a shift he would have preferred but he had no choice; he was always the first pick for night shifts due to his known status in the workplace.  Discrimination still ran high… something he was accustomed to.

He looked up as sounds of footsteps came from a distance.  Two… no three people walking.  Were they safe to talk to?  He couldn’t know for sure.  The heavy footsteps sounded like men but, again, he couldn’t be sure.  He would have to take a chance.  Before he could call out to them, they must have noticed him first.

“Oh,” one of them said, “Hey there…”  Footsteps drew closer.  “Are you lost or something?” another asked, a slight hint of amusement in his voice.

Danger.

Seokjin took a step back but had nowhere left to go.  His back touched the wall and… someone’s hand.  “No,” he said, hoping his voice sounded much more confident than he’d felt at that moment, “I’m fine.”  He turned to start walking but bumped into someone standing right in front of him.

“You blind, ain’t ya?” a voice from right near his ear said, giddily, “Where ya from?” 

Desperation welled up inside Seokjin’s chest.  Out of the frying pan and into the fire, they say.  He felt a hand along his neck; he ducked instinctively and tried to move away but he was very much cornered. 

“Ey… you think he one of them Dolls?” one of them said excitedly.  Seokjin could hear the ill intentions dripping from every word.

“You got any ID on ya?”

Seokjin felt hands pat his pants; he had fortunately left his belongings in his locker at the parlour.  He could only hope that he would be able to bluff his way out of this.

“Don’t,” he murmured, his breathlessness making the words barely audible.    He tried to push through but it was no use; hands pushed at his chest forcefully, making him stumble backwards again and again.

“Yeah sure,” one said, taking his arm, “We’ll let ya do some leavin.” 

Seokjin felt himself getting pulled backwards down the street.  His breathing was heavy; he knew what would happen soon.  With every ounce of energy he could, he screamed, “Help!  Help me, plea-”  His cries were silenced quickly by a hand.  He writhed and kicked but it was no use; he felt himself get dragged around the corner.

Author's notes: Kicking things off with a little (O_O)  I'm not fully finished the skeleton of this story just yet as I'm about a little over halfway done.  Not entirely sure where I want to take this just yet... all I know is my heart wants what it wants and it wants some NamJin! 

Another shameless plug: if you haven't checked out my Dolls story, please have a look!  Though you don't need read it to follow this story, it will help provide some more background on the world of Dolls and its history.