HANGING BY A WHISPER

Shards of light cut through the flimsy curtain that was meant to block them. Carryl groaned in his sleep, turning away from the light, and snuggled deeper into his covers. As the sun rose higher in the sky, more light streamed into the room, rendering sleep impossible for the light sleeper. With another frustrated groan, Carryl stood from his bed eyes tightly shut determined to draw the blinds and get more sleep. Despite operating blind, he made it to the window in record time, only for his alarm to go off.

He stood still for a moment, as his alarm blared in his sparsely furnished closet of a room while contemplating jumping off the window. After a minute, he cracked open an eyelid and was welcomed with pain as light flooded his vision. He shuffled to the bed, determined to get a five-minute extension only this time his progress was painfully halted by a chair he could have sworn had not been there before. He took a deep breath, fighting back the tears that were threatening to fall in response to his smarting little toe that had been the subject of abuse. With his eyes now wide open, he limped to his tiny bathroom already exhausted by the new day.

After soaping his body, he stood under the freezing water unwilling to leave despite the biting cold that no longer bothered him. He ran his hands across his chest, brushing against his nipples, causing him to jerk from the unexpected stimulation. He ignored the blossoming heat in his groin, choosing instead to get out of the shower. After quickly getting dressed, he locked his door and made his way to his first job.

His first stop was at the play center, which was fed by different play groups. Thankfully, it was only a cleaning job, but it was also by far his least favorite job, as it paid the least. After three hours of cleaning, he was more than ready to go to bed, but he still has more than twelve hours of work left. His next job was as a part-timer at a fancy restaurant during the lunch rush hour. He helped fill in for whichever team needed help. Today was his lucky day. He was on dish duty and he would not have it any other way. Just like that, the next five hours passed by as he remained stationary at his post elbow-deep in soapsuds. His last stop was at the retirement home where he spent the last hours of his day feeding the washing machine sheets and hanging them out to dry.

With a body hanging on by a whisper and a mind that had long since given up, Carryl found himself in front of THE PUB. It wasn't the first time he had passed by that pub. If anything, this was his usual route, so regularly, would be too shallow a word to describe how often he had seen it. On late nights, the letters THE PUB had often illuminated his way home, but today they beckoned him. If it had been any other day, he would have ignored his longing and dragged his weary feet back home, but today he found himself pushing past the heavy doors leading into the establishment.

Carryl was welcomed by a warm gust caressing his face as it chased away the chill of an evening long abandoned by the sun. Enthralling instrumental music, broken soft chatter and clinking of glasses made their way to his ears, calming his rattled soul. Despite the careless name, THE PUB was a far cry from what the name suggested. The velvet seats with glass tables that were artistically placed around the room, the crystal chandelier that scattered light across the space, and three bartenders working behind a well-stocked bar, and were each making what had to be expensive drinks from the looks of it.

He most definitely could not afford to be here. With a defeated sigh, he turned around, dreading the chilly air waiting outside for him. He made his way to the threshold only for the door to slam directly into his head. The blast of pain traveled throughout his entire body, causing him to sway. Carryl was by no means a damsel in distress, but he found himself falling to the ground while losing consciousness.

A vicious throbbing pulled him from the darkness of the abyss, thrusting him into the painful light. His consciousness grew alongside his panic as he took in his unfamiliar surroundings. He attempted to get up, but his throbbing head halted any sort of progression. He slowly fell back onto the impossibly soft bed and settled for looking around. Despite the IV bag dripping into his arm, the room he was in couldn't possibly be a hospital room.

The bed he lay in had to be twelve inches wide and maybe eight inches long. From what he could see of the headboard, the bed had to cost more than a year's worth of his rent. The soft bedding that gently brushed against his skin was a far outcry from his rough covers back in his apartment. Speaking of apartments, this room looked like it could fit ten of his apartments and still have room to spare. The furniture looked like something straight out of a catalog each piece showing off its elegance in a way only expensive things could. He was too taken by the show of luxury that he failed to notice when the door opened and someone made their way to him.

It was only when a throat was cleared, did he crash back into reality. He looked up at the movement, causing him pain, but he did not flinch as his eyes widened, taking in the sight that his eyes beheld.