Beneath The Alphas

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air is hot and heavy, a layer of thickness settling over my head and pressing uncomfortably on the nap

proves more difficult than expected. I used to fit in this space with ease back when I was a child. I was small enough to sit on the floor wit

ce could no longer accommodate my frame, no matter how small or petite I appeared to be.

ing my toes ha

fly and tilt it side to side. The tension in my neck, my

sun rose higher, it became hot and oppressive. Suffocating. Within a few hours, the smell of

specks of dust dance up my airways in turn, tickling the back

es me before I

-c

the bed draws

hear

kly to watch the greasy overweight man that mounts her from behind with

slowly fisting the worn-out sheets, a weak muscle-flexin

man spat in

it. “The hostel’s been plagued with rodents since last week, I’m sure it’s just that.

r, like little bird wings trapped between my lungs. It was hard to see with the spaces so

sight of the man

ged its slightly curved shaft. A bloated purple glans, tipped by a raw-looking eye completed the monstrous t

bile rises

crossed over his chest, face angled to the left as he

of her bony hand tentatively resting on his bicep, urging him back

y white face that glossed along his wide forehead and upper lip with perspiration. I curl into m

practiced desire, grey eyes darkening slightly. “Come,” she reaches for his hand and tries to guide him back to the bed, “mak

“Don’t touch me whore,” his voice snaps like a belt on the skin, already forgetting my hovering presence, he turns

ld loo

trained and rooted deeply within me, but something stiff holds my neck

d curls around her delicate ankle and drags her towards

plotching the soft sensitive skin on her legs. Her face is tilted to the ceiling, lips pursed in

t, her legs enveloping him. Her urgency becomes his, and his slow pushes hasten into grinding strokes as

hardened blisters from working in the pig. The sounds dull out to a rhythmic thump of the bed against the wall

revious one and by the time my mothe

know the expression she is making b

ur gazes meet, I breathe out a nervous c

nstead holds out a hand for me. The robe she had dawned on now covers her bruises

. Her skin is cold and clammy against my own, and her hold is weak but the

he low ceiling, rotating my stiff waist, rolling my neck back and forth i

ng sigh and smi

past my shoulder towards the wardrobe, the ghost of a

hobic space drums a patter of reluctance down my juddering spine. “I can manage.” I would do it for her ag

e a candle snuffed and when she speaks,

ly temporary, but time is an infinite thing. And tem

a deep breath and muster a smile while rounding her small frame, “Don’t worry

leaves only to be disrupted by a sharp cough. Her face contorts in pain as the violent shudder

st, head bent low as thin strands of her flaxen gold hair sweep across her face like a c

aling the bony column of her spine beneath pallid skin-- so jar

urmur after

ched, my m

where a bowl of water lies. Plucking a random cup, I lean forward and blow a

ecayed rug beneath my feet, bright enough to hu

ckels rattling in metallic tin. She hastily begins to withdraw her sleeve from her mouth but the acti

greedily, her wasted throat jerking with every gulp. “We should have enough money…” Automatical

two copper nickels

ans heavily against the bedpost while delicately wiping at the corner o

clothes strewn on the floor, I make for the opposite side where our makeshift kitchen is; a charcoal stove, one aluminum pot, and an oblong of

oo

show of opening the box and peering inside. Two jars of kidney beans, a strip of buffalo

the distance between us, she cannot tell. Pivoting on my heels, I cast a final smile at my mother — her body a

tthieu a

es my heart in a fist. The moment is brief as a yawn, peaceful contentment without the clawing burden of our lives— the st

for the door, and with a f

ting spores that flicker with golden avidity as they float through beams of light that peek through the holes in the ceiling, and the strangling sharp smell of cheap p

groans ricochet fro

oman beneath, a small girl no older than sixteen, a boy flat on his belly with a man mounte

ther hallway, ducking low just as a door opens and

door just as it slams shut. Adjusting his manhood back into his pants, he swivels ar

g, the first smell of snow thick in the air as I breathe it in frigid and sharp— it feels like tiny kni

y winds away from the Hostel and towards the market. The town we live in is slightly larger but

winter, the number of white-capped stalls swells once more, drops of fading colors dotting the sq

n incongruous murmur towards the sky n

past it. The market air’s stench is different once inside; a mixture of herbs, dried clothes, the

whose cheeks are ruddy from the harsh winds of on-setting winter. As I weave past them, their gazes preternat

nown in the town. An invisible brand stampe

ed long and the insults had faded as I grew with age. Or perhaps I had tur

xively even if the roof is far above my head, and straighten slightly as I step into the open pharmacy. It was not much of a pharmacy, to begin w

t as deafening pop skitters across t

e him excessively. He coughs raggedly, the front of his white coat layered thickly with soot, his dark skin ashen. “Damn

kicked about bypassing pedestrians and animals pulling carts. Gibson watched

s face, and smiles openly at the sight of me, revealing yellow t

ing a final bitter glance at the

final charred smoke that wafts past

time the merchants come ‘round they bring cheaper shit, frau

gh glass jars filled to the brim with liquid and floa

at the sound of his voice, watching as he w

eady reaching into m

, utensils, and cutlery rattling like loose

d be enough for that m

l of white pills for mum. “How’s your ma doing by the way?” He rips out a

he knew of her deteriorating state, and then he would ask about her job even if

I was grateful for it. Outside of my f

out of pity but when craving human con

. Furtive awkward glances as we brushed past each other in the hallways, him waiting for my disapp

d just normal enough to look at without wanti

nders if he eve

that provides your medicine, the man

ires, noting my outward shudde

vague smile, “Yeah, jus

round.” Folding the newspaper, he

le, already feeling at a los

ddenly wary in his voice that ha

t’s

th a guilty expressio

d pity— that sparks a flint of dull anger in my belly. It rises

the table while fishing for the pill

g about his head like a crown, “with the merchants bringing in less ever

n, I force a smile of reassurance, “reall

wo

ibson glances sideways, takes a breath, and looks back at me. “Listen

ould have had me refusing the deal but desperation is a sickening thing

’t dou