Photo by Veronika Galkina on Unsplash
Trigger Alert: Discussion of Human Trafficking
Jacob teased his friend. “Come on, it can’t be that hard.”
“Dude, let’s see how well you do when dealing with a place your parents trafficked you.” Brandon bit out, fighting the nausea building in his stomach.
“This isn’t the same place, not even the same country.” Jacob tried to reassure Brandon. He knew the whole story as Brandon thought it necessary if they were going to split a lease, but he somehow hadn’t put together “I may wake up screaming in the middle of the night” warning with other possible trauma impact. “It’s just a normal drug store.”
“It smells the same.” Brandon muttered, staring at the innocuous building like it was a nightmare incarnate. “They all smell the same.”
“How do you get—”
“Drive-thru.” Brandon cut the obvious question short. “Whenever the doctor prescribes drugs, I go through the drive-thru or have a friend do it. Usually Sharrah, she’s good like that.”
Obviously not his parents. Brandon hadn’t spoken to them since he escaped at eighteen. He hadn’t even returned to Cananda since he finished university. Didn’t even have contact with his siblings. His one brother had committed suicide shortly after Brandon left home, for which the guy still blamed himself but sometimes the only person you can save is you. His two sisters had disappeared into the system when the police had investigated Tyler’s death and never came out where Brandon could find them.
Jacob nodded. “Alright, well, we both need to get our flu and COVID shots if we are going to get these jobs at the hospice facility.” He paused, thinking a moment. “How are you going to handle that? Doesn’t it smell the same.”
“No. No they don’t. That place smells like old people.” Brandon ungripped his fists enough to point at the yellow-brown bricks in front of them. “That place smells like medicine and candy, bleach and rubber and perfume and caked makeup and just slightly sour milk. Nothing else smells like it, not even the grocery store.”
Although Jacob knew it smelled close to it, and since Brandon’s parents also marketed their children at that location too, Brandon had his groceries delivered when he had money. Otherwise, he begged friends, trading housecleaning for grocery runs. Jacob couldn’t imagine having grocery, convenience, and drug stores all on the can’t-go-without-reexperiencing-everything list. How could parents do that to their own children? How could anyone pay to do that to kids?
“Have you not gotten your shots before now?” Jacob asked.
“I usually have them done in the doctor’s office, but they can’t get me in for four weeks.”
“And we start next week.”
“Right.”
“Can we get them done at Urgent Care?”
Brandon wiped his lower face, clearing the sweat above his lips. “I checked. They are all out of the COVID shots and won’t have more until the next round is ready in late September. I can get flu, but that is not enough.”
“Okay, look, we both really need this job. I’ve been looking since the warehouse closed in January, and you since April, and the summer gigs are drying up. You can do this.”
Brandon’s shoulders sagged. “No, I don’t think I can.” He slammed the glove compartment in front of him angrily. “Fuck my parents.” He turned in the seat to face Jacob. “I’m sorry. You go in and get the shots. I’ll help you find a roommate who can pay his half of the rent. I’m so sorry.”
“Dude, we are in this together. I’m not leaving you behind.” Jacob chuckled at a new thought making its way through the frustration. “If only they could do shots in the drive-thru.”
“Yeah, during COVID, they would come out to the parking lot and give shots there.”
“Maybe…” Jacob’s eyes met Brandon’s. “No harm in asking, right? They might-could do it for the elderly, right?”
“It’s worth trying. Maybe not for the non-handicapped, but maybe.” The corner of Brandon’s mouth turned up in a half-smile. “Thanks. I can’t tell you how much this means to me. That you keep trying.”
“What are friends for?” Jacob asked. He turned the key in the ignition to roll down the windows then got out of the car. “I’ll be back as soon as I get an answer, but it might take a while.”
“Thank you. Really.” Brandon stared at the building, memories haunting his eyes. “I just can’t go in there.”
(words 741; first published 7/28/2026 – created based on a story prompt of: Write a story where your protagonist returns to a place they swore they’d never go back to.)