This Little Piggy

**Major content/trigger warnings continued — all the bad stuff that's been hinted at is fully present. So trigger warnings for drugs, suicide, and abuse.**

"Sit there and keep the ice on your face," the school nurse said. "Don't get up until the vice-principal calls you."

She turned and tidied the unused gauze pads back into their respective boxes and drawers, muttering to herself.

Akicita sniffed hard and tried not to gag on the slimy chunk of blood and snot that oozed down his throat. His eyes drifted to the black clippers sitting on the counter, ready and waiting for the next beneficiary of the school's Compassionate Hands program.

"Knock knock," a cheerful voice called from the open door. "Got a few minutes, Beth?"

The nurse smiled as she turned to the counselor. "For you, Sue? Of course!" She frowned at Akicita. "Wait there for the vice-principal."

As they left the office, Akicita's eyes drifted upward to a boldly framed picture of a dark-haired man in a suit. The bronze plaque proclaimed him to be Vice-Principal Henderson. The printed smile made Akicita's flesh crawl. Hazed memories of that smile watching while hands tugged his hair, pulling his head back and his jaw open resonated through his flesh.

His eyes floated down to the clippers. His fingers grabbed the orange bottle, and three pills slid down his throat, greased by a slug of bloody snot. Shorter is better.

*****

"I can't believe you would do this to me. First, you get into a fight, then this?"

Akicita slumped in the chair and ran a trembling hand over his head. The stubble's prickle was alien on his palm.

"There's no way I can cover for this. You're out of the tournament this weekend; there's no choice on that." Mr. Smith's teeth gleamed as he smiled. "But if you make it up to me, I'll see what I can do to keep you on the team."

Breath frozen, Akicita looked past Mr. Smith's left ear.

"And with those bruises, that hair?" Mr. Smith scoffed and shook his head. "The usuals won't want you. Fortunately, there's a special auction tonight. I was just going to officiate, but now …"

'No. He promised he wouldn't make me do that. Not again.' Akicita fumbled for his orange bottle, clenching it. 'No. There's just one left. If you take it now …'

"But that's for later. For now, be a good boy and get to practice."

Akicita scrambled to his feet, grabbed his backpack, and fled. Of their own volition, his feet took him to the old gym annex that had been converted into an archery range. Silence barricaded him as the team paired off and took aim at the distant targets, isolating him from their friendly chatter. Piercing eyes tracked his every move, even as Mr. Smith coordinated the drill.

James, waiting for his turn at the shooting line, cleared his throat awkwardly as Mr. Smith stepped out.

"Hey, I … uh … heard what happened," James said.

Akicita let his eyes drift toward him, then focused on the target. He loosed a black carbon fiber arrow.

"Look, I know you're mad, but —"

"It doesn't matter," Akicita said.

"But your hair and — oh, God, your face!" The weight of James's concerned eyes was palpable on the cuts and bruises.

Akicita shrugged, consciously loosening his shoulders, and knocked another arrow.

"Forget about it."

"I can't just —"

Akicita sighed and lowered his bow, freeing the arrow from the string.

"We've known each other how long? Health class with Mrs. Johnson, and Brice breathing down our necks?"

"Y-yeah." James huffed a tiny laugh. "That first year was rough."

"But we survived." Akicita punched his shoulder. "This is nothing."

James laughed and shook his head.

"Ok, it's nothing. In that case, did you check out the skirt Carrie's rocking? Legs for days!"

Akicita's skin crawled as he raised his bow and re-knocked his arrow.

"You should go talk to her, Akicita." Grinning, James brushed his hair out of his face.

"That's enough, team," Mr. Smith said, standing in the door. The setting sun lit his blonde hair on fire. "I've got your drinks. Stow your gear and gather round. We need to go over the plan for this weekend's tournament."

Excited babble echoed through the range as Cita stored his bow in its case. Gran said to bring it home tonight. He locked it for transport and went to grab a bright red bottle.

"Akicita, you know the red one disagrees with you. I got you a blue one. Here." Mr. Smith thrust a bottle into Cita's hands.

Cita twisted the loose plastic band under the cap and frowned. Setting the bottle on the bleacher, he slumped beside it, fumbling in his pocket for the orange bottle. He tugged his hood up and stared at the electric blue liquid. He rubbed his burning eyes, then popped the lid off the pill bottle. Tossing the lone pill into his mouth, he grabbed blindly at the sports drink and washed everything down.

A shocking, fruity flavor flooded his mouth, and he gaped at the Fruit Punch label on the red bottle.

"You wanted the red one, right?" James smiled and held up the half-empty blue bottle.

*****

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have an old favorite." The shadowy figure waved languidly at Akicita, still clad in his school uniform and bound to the pommel horse. Evening light filtered through the hazy windows high in the walls.

Akicita's eyes burned as the figure bent over to whisper in his ear.

"Be a good boy now. Just your luck, I didn't have another bottle of your cocktail after this little sneak took the first. But if you behave with only the salvia, I'll slip you something extra special before I send you home." He pushed away from Akicita with a chuckle.

"And a new toy," the figure said as he stroked James's hair. James's head lolled against the archery butt that supported him. "This one was so eager to join us that he invited himself. Who would like to break him in? Let's start the bidding at —"

"Hey!" a man interrupted. "Let's do a twofer on them!"

Disembodied white teeth glinted in the flickering fluorescent lights, and Akicita panted as if racing down the rabbit hole. Tugging against the coarse rope binding his wrists, he watched as red tears trickled down his hands.

'What type of rope weeps?'

"What? No!" a woman shouted. Her words spiraled up to the black-painted rafters to dance a quick jig before falling to earth. "You promised me a shot at your boy this week, Smith. You can't change the deal now."

The walls pressed in, heaving like the flanks of an enormous beast. Akicita's eyes darted around. 'Are we in its belly? And what does she mean, he promised?'

"Calmness, people. It is an auction, and we've all brought our best playthings to the table. There's plenty to go around if we're patient. But as usual, if you want two, you'll have to bid for two."

Disappointed groans filled the beast-building, and it rumbled like it was still hungry after eating them all.

Akicita tugged harder against the rope — the only thing keeping him from floating up to the beast's ribs high above — and took advantage of the excited bidding to whisper to James.

"Hey! James!" He frowned when James didn't respond. 'Is he even breathing?' The heaving walls and grasping darkness made it impossible to tell.

**Guess we should have stayed home,** a snarky voice said.

Akicita blinked at the strangely familiar figure standing next to him. "Who — ?"

Then the hands arrived like they always did. But this time, they floated toward James, fingering his hair and unbuttoning his shirt. Akicita growled, twisting the increasingly slick rope, and a flicker of blue flame danced over his wrist.

"James!"