"The abuse of a harmless thing is the essence of sin."
- A.W. Tozer

Gus was escorted in the back of a police car to Oasis Ranch the next day, his hands cuffed behind his back. The drive took a good three hours out into the desert.

Margaret had packed him a bag containing a few articles of clothing and other basic necessities. She'd hugged him, wished him luck and told him to contact her anytime, even after he turned eighteen. Gus knew he wouldn't, but it did kinda make him sad to see her go. Having an ally wasn't always guaranteed in the foster system. But goodbyes were expected. He was always saying goodbye.

"These cuffs really hurt, dude," Gus said to the officer sitting beside him, a beefy, stoic looking black man.

The officer ignored him.

"Okay, these cuffs really hurt, sir?" he said hopefully.

"Officer? Mister Sir? Mister? Miss? Missus? Ma'am? Look, I don't judge, okay?"

The officer sighed. "Shut up, kid," he said in a deep voice.

"Can't you uncuff me or somethin'? My arms ache. What's the worst that could happen? Am I gonna roll out the damn car like The fuckin' Rock? We're goin' eighty easy. I'd be road kill. You think I'm that desperate to get out of goin' to rehab? Well I ain't. So can you help me out or what?"

"No."

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"How close?"

"No."

"For a cop you don't have much of a vocabuh-lary."

"No."

Gus sighed and shifted forward. It was another thirty minutes before they arrived at their destination.

Oasis Ranch was a sprawling farm that had claimed acres and acres of rare green land in the middle of the desert. Cows and horses grazed in the fields while chickens roamed the fenced yard in front of the quintessential red barn. The green stuck out against the brown desert background like a mistake with a paintbrush. Gus stared wide-eyed at the horses and cows in the pastures. He had never seen either in real life.

They drove around the pastures to a white house with a wraparound front porch lined with rocking chairs. It was the biggest house Gus had ever seen, stretching back and out in all directions.

"Look alive, kid. We're here," said the officer.

"Thank God," Gus mumbled.

"Now you can bug someone else," the officer said as he opened the door for Gus to get out.

Once the cops escorted him inside, Gus realized that the house was just a front for an interior similar to a doctor's office. There was a desk in a room with gray carpet, bright circle rugs and soft lamplight.

They released his hands from the cuffs. Gus gasped with relief, rubbing and cracking his knuckles as he took in his surroundings, pausing at each door. There were the doors behind him, a door behind the front desk and a door to his right. He always needed to know his escape routes.

"Welcome, Gus. My name is Alissa. We've been expecting you," said a young blond woman sitting at the front desk.

She walked forward and extended her hand. Gus shook it, feeling warm all over. This woman was gorgeous.

The familiar rush of meth-induced infatuation sent his brain flying. He'd smoked his last hit of Crystal this morning, but he'd hidden a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in his shoe that he hoped they wouldn't find.

"Hi," he said.

"I'm gonna have you fill out some paperwork, okay?"

"What paperwork?" Gus asked nervously. He didn't want to look stupid in front of this cute girl, but reading and writing weren't exactly his strong suits.

"Just some intake questions for your interview," she said.

Alissa went back to the desk and returned with a pen and two pieces of paper stapled together. There were questions front and back. Gus swallowed nervously.

"Every question?" he asked.

"Some questions might not apply to you. Just take your time."

Gus sank into the nearest chair and put the paper on a small table beside him. The cops spoke briefly with Alissa and then left without a word. Gus was so focused on his task he didn't even realize they were gone until later when he had finished the questions.

"Here," he said, walking up to the front desk.

Alissa looked up. "Just keep it. You'll give it to Gina."

"Who-"

Gus didn't get to finish the question. Just then, the door to his right opened and a lady poked her head through. She was middle-aged, a little chubby, with light blond hair cut short right under her ears.

"Gus Crady?" she asked.

"Yep," Gus said.

"My name is Gina Crass, the head therapist here, and I'm ready for you now."

Gus followed Gina down a narrow hallway to an office filled with dog trinkets. Specifically huskies. Every available space from the desk to the bookshelves was crammed with stuffed animals, picture frames, Christmas ornaments, figurines and more.

"You like dogs," Gus said.

Gina laughed. "Couldn't tell? I have a husky named Jupiter. A few years ago my family bought me a figurine for my birthday, and now everybody gets me something husky related for my birthdays and Christmas."

"I like those type of dogs. Well, I just like dogs in general. Wish I had one. I only ever had a stuffed one, but I treated him like he was real."

Gina smiled and motioned to the sofa across from her plush chair. "Sit there. Let's go over some of these answers."

Gus handed her his sheet, and she looked it over, frowning occasionally, bringing it close to her face and then holding it at arms length, squinting. But she didn't mention his many mistakes.

"Okay, so here under Drug of Choice, you said, 'all of it.' Care to elaborate?"

"Elab...?"

"Explain."

"Oh. Okay. I meant, like, all the drugs. Well, 'cept benzos and dope. Those are boring. Would you rather sleep or party? I guess it depends on what you want at the time. Me, I always wanna be up. I get nightmares and shit. Hey, you ever had a lucid dream? This one time I-"

"Gus, focus," Gina said kindly. "When did you begin using?"

"Like... maybe six years old. I don't 'member. It was a pot brownie though. I got real sick. It didn't taste very good. You ever ate one? And I like brownies usually. And cookies. Especially those white ones with the sugar and cinnamon on 'em. There's this one place that sells-"

"Gus," Gina said again.

"Sorry," Gus said. "One more thing though. Do you like Snickers or Kit-Kat's better? I'm really cravin' both right now. I love candy. This one time me and my best friend, Adam, who was obsessed with Reeses, we rolled up at this gas station and-"

"Back on topic. Were you aware that the brownie had drugs in it?"

"Yeah. That's... sorta the point of a pot brownie."

Gina chuckled. "You sure are a character aren't you?"

Gus shrugged. He didn't know what she meant.

"I can tell you're high on Crystal Meth," Gina said.

"Yeah I'm pretty geeked out. Sorry," Gus mumbled. "How'd you know?"

"I can tell."

"I'll try not to talk so much," Gus said, though he was bursting with a thousand thoughts and ideas.

"Okay, your history. Lots of different foster homes. Is there a reason?"

"I think people just got sick of me. And some I ran away from 'cause I wanted to be on my own. I started runnin' away when I was ten. Mostly I'd run to a trap house or whatever, earn my keep by runnin' drugs for the gangs. Then I was on the streets from twelve to fifteen in Chicago. I spent the last year on Skid Row."

"I see," Gina said. She looked down at the page again. "Under the History of Abuse section you just put a question mark. What does that mean?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe you were thinking-"

"No, I for real don't know what that means," Gus said.

"Abuse means someone hurt you."

"Oh sure, yeah lots of people did."

"Your foster parents?"

"A lot of people. People get sick of me pretty quick," Gus said.

"You said that before. What do you mean?"

"I'm annoying, I guess. And I'm really stupid. Like really fuckin' stupid."

"I don't believe you are stupid, Gus."

Gus laughed. "You known me for five seconds! Look at how I write."

"That doesn't matter. I always say that everyone has a particular genius for a particular thing. Could be repairing cars, building houses, playing the violin or even being unusually kind. No one is stupid. They are smart about different things. What are you good at?"

"Nothin'," Gus said.

"Think."

Gus thought. "Lyin'. Survivin' maybe."

"But what do you like to do?"

"Get high. Fuck girls. Oh, sorry, have sex with girls."

"No, I mean things like music, sports, drawing or-"

"I like drawing."

Gina smiled. "Maybe that's your genius, Gus."

Gus didn't respond, but Gina was already looking at the next question.

"Have you ever thought about, planned or attempted suicide?" she asked.

"I've thought about it sometimes, but I like life too much," Gus said.

"You've had a pretty tough one. What do you like about life?"

"I like that everyday is different. I like people. I like animals. I like Christmas. Bein' alive's better than sleepin' six feet under with worms eatin' your eyeballs, ya know?"

"What is your goal for your stay here?"

"I dunno. Survive it I guess. I know withdrawal's gonna be a bitch..."

"Do you want to get clean?"

"To be real, no. I just didn't wanna go back to juvie or foster care."

Gina chuckled. "Your honesty is refreshing. Hopefully you'll change your mind. We're done here, Gus. Now it's time for your physical."

Gina led him across the hallway to an exam room, where a doctor drew his blood and checked him for lice, injuries and signs of abuse. The doctor was an older man with silver hair and silver glasses that were perfect circles like soap bubbles.

"You a cutter?" he asked, examining some of the scars and fresh scabs on Gus's arms.

"Yeah."

The doctor wrote something on a clipboard and took a picture of his arms with a cellphone.

"And the cigarette burns?"

"Most of the front ones are from me. The ones on my back people did to me."

The doctor asked him to lift his shirt so he could look at his back. Gus did. He heard the cellphone camera click again, and he started getting nervous.

"Are these other marks from a belt?" the doctor asked.

"Sometimes. Or an electric cord. Why you takin' pictures of me, man?"

"Documentation of previous abuse and self harm. It's procedural."

Gus still felt nervous, and it was getting worse by the second.

"Have you ever engaged in prostitution?" the doctor asked next.

Gus turned red and nodded, very slightly and very reluctantly.

"With men?"

"Yeah."

"Anal or oral sex?"

"Both."

"Giving or receiving?"

"Receiving. Well, I gave blow jobs but other than that I was always bottom. You think I could get a hard on for some old pervert dude? Fuck no. Well, except with Adam," Gus mumbled.

"Who's that?"

"A guy I knew. He's dead. We turned tricks together a lot."

The doctor said nothing, just wrote notes. Gus couldn't help adding,

"I did what I had to. I had to survive some type of way! You try havin' no money when you haven't ate in three days, haven't slept in six, you're sick with the flu and it's five degrees outside with a windchill of minus ten, and this guy's gonna give you a hundred bucks and a night in a warm hotel room if you just let him fuck you for five minutes!" Gus said defensively.

"I'm not judging you. These questions are for medical purposes only. Did your partners use protection?"

"Yeah. I ain't that fuckin' stupid."

"Your file also mentioned you were raped while living on Skid Row last year."

"Yeah so?"

"We're talking full sex, genital penetration, correct?"

"Um... yeah. Can we NOT talk about this stuff anymore? Goddamn!" Gus said.

"We have to. Did the perpetrator use a condom?"

"The fuck should I know? I blocked out a lot of it and can't even 'member the couple days after 'cause I was on a million downers and sleepin'. Look, they already tested me in juvie for HIV and STD's. I'm clean."

"We'll need to test you again for our own records."

"Why?"

"Policy. Okay. I need you to take your clothing off now and put this on," the doctor said.

Gus took the folded body cover he was offered.

"This piece of paper?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes. I'll turn around so you can change into it."

"It's open in the back!" Gus exclaimed, holding it up in front of him.

"It's a standard hospital cover. Now don't argue. I need you to take your clothes off."

Gus was completely on edge now; scared, paranoid and tweaking. The doctor had turned away from him and was putting on gloves.

"What're you gonna do?" Gus demanded.

"A simple exam and external cavity search. It won't hurt."

At the phrase cavity search, Gus jumped off the exam table and grabbed the nearest object, a heavy plastic frame with an inspirational quote inside of it.

"Don't fuckin' touch me, pervert!" he yelled.

The doctor turned and held up his hands, his eyes as round as his glasses. "It's just a routine search. It's not an internal cavity search. Calm down."

"I'm not doin' it!"

Gus felt he had no choice but to react. He threw the frame at the man, who dodged it. It crashed against the wall, leaving a mark in the paint.

"Calm down, Gus!"

"CALM DOWN! First you take pictures of me, ask me about sex and now you wanna see me naked! You're a fuckin' pedo! I knew it!"

The doctor quickly buzzed for security, who came rushing in seconds later. A female officer and two males. Gus had already grabbed a pair of scissors.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" he screamed, brandishing the scissors like a knife.

They moved closer, so he did the only thing he felt he could do. He starting slashing the air in front of him, throwing any objects he could find and smashing medical trays and tools to distract them. He couldn't reach the door and had backed himself into a corner, panicking. Everyone was saying calm down calm down but he had lost track of where he was and why. He was seven years old, helpless and begging as his foster father gently said, "Take your clothes off so we can play."

"Don't make me! Please!" he cried to the security team, who had all become versions of his foster father.

"You'll like it."

"I don't like it! It hurts!"

"If you fight me you'll get punished with the cord. Do you want that?"

"Don't hurt me!"

"I won't hurt you if you take your clothes off and play our special game."

In the memory, Gus had done it, of course.

Back in the exam room, he was sobbing hysterically. He slid down into the corner, knowing he had no choice. This was his life. He was only a thing. Nothing would ever change.

"Adam, I really need you!" he cried desperately, hoping the ghost would hear him and scare all these people away.

But all of the sudden he felt a sharp prick in his arm, and in seconds the world turned black.