He usually falls asleep on the way there. I encourage this so I don’t have to listen to all the fear and paranoia. I have my own paranoia.

“We’re here.”

“I don’t want to go in there. Look, there are cops at the door.”

There were cops at the door who were questioning everyone and you had to produce ID if you had one. If you didm’t, you weren’t getting inside where the real fun was.

He’s usually no good to anyone when he’s this tired.

“Come on, we’ll get through it together.”

“This time, I’m not taking my pants off. Last time, she finger fucked me, and played with my nuts.”

“I was there. I remember. But to get the meds, you have to go through her.”

“I would rather be dead than humiliated.”

None of this is unique to him. He’s fifteen.

“It’s because of doing sex work, right, Tim.”

“Right.”

“I won’t strip. You can’t make me.”

I have no intention of making anyone do anything.

“Do I look like the Nurse Police to you.”

We walked toward the clinic. One step at a time.

https://medium.com/@timotheebarrus