LUCA
The past—Age 16.
I walked around the room in nothing but my briefs as I searched my box for my only pair of faded black pants and a shirt. The room is tiny, with three mattresses positioned on the floor. We're lucky we get to stay only three here because some slaves sleep up to ten in a room. That's exactly what we are—slaves. Anytime we seemed to forget and demanded better remuneration for our exploitation, the manager wasted no time in reminding us who we are: slaves, male w****s, and above all, boys whose families don't want. My roommates are out of the brotel and working their asses off in the club.
I moved my long legs around the room, swearing in my native tongue as I searched furiously for the black pants. Sometimes my roommates took my stuff, but whenever they did, it alway
