RUNAWAY BOY....

You leave in the morning with everything you own in a little black case.
You stand on the platform, the wind and rain on your sad and lonely face....

That pretty much sums up the day I decided to run away from home and life.

Mum had come with me to see me off on the country train bound for my new life in teacher's college.
I had no regrets for what I was about to do, only a guilty feeling for the hurt I knew I would cause.

Chance encounters can change a person's life.  This is what happened to me during the short time between college orientation day and starting college.

During my days at the Cross, I had met a group of boys who lived in a shared flat on William St.  They were all young, gay and , unlike me, living the life they wanted.  It was they who introduced me to the 'gay scene'.  The gay clubs of Oxford St, which until then I had no idea even existed.

I was hooked from my first night there.  Hundreds of people just like me.  The music, the drinking, the drag shows.  It was in 'Patches' night club where I met Billy.

By the end of the night we had become the best of friends and I had told him of my dread of having to go to teachers college in a country town.  We went back to his house and stayed the night and in the morning made plans for me to move in with him (and his parents) instead of going to college.

I left the train with my bag at the first stop and made my way back to Billy's house.  For 4 days we did nothing but stay in his room, only going out to the kitchen or bathroom.  Billy, I discovered wanted to be a drag queen.  He encouraged me to to the same and we spent lots of time experimenting with make up and clothes before going out in drag for our first time.

He didn't want me to work the streets and knowing that was the first place my parents would look for me, I agreed it was a good idea.  At night we went to the bars.  Patches, Cappricios, on to the Taxi Club and ending up back in the Cross at 'Les Girls'.  Watching the amazing shows and spending a lot of time re-doing our make up.  What a sight we must of looked!

This lasted for about 6 days.  By this time my scant savings were running out and Billy's father came home drunk one morning and caught us in bed together.  Until this time neither his mother or father had seemed to care - I had even been introduced to them as Billy's new boyfriend.  However catching us in the middle of sex was enough for his father to tell me to pack my bags and go.

It was the last time I would see Billy alive.  

With no where else to go I headed back to the Cross.  No plans, nowhere to live, no real idea of what I was going to do.  I remember sitting in the 'Bottoms Up' bar at the Rex Hotel (one of the seediest hotels in all of Sydney) for most of the day.  Towards the early evening I met a boy (I don't remember his name) and after a few drinks he invited me back to his house.

We had sex and then he said it would be okay for me to stay with him and his flatmate if I wanted.  His flatmate turned out to be a 60 something year old man, who was quite happy for me to stay, provided I let him watch (and sometimes join in) me and the other boy having sex.  Who was I to argue?

The two of them were really nice to me.  I had a roof over my head, dinner cooked every night and during the day I could still work the fountain to make extra money.  

It was on one of these working days that I met a young guy called Terry who sat and chatted with me and asked if I had ever thought of working in a brothel.  He convinced me it would be really profitable for me and much safer than working the streets.  Not only would I be protected from any unsavory or dangerous clients, but being under age, he could guarantee me protection from getting busted.  Believe it or not, the 'Fountain' where most of the under age boys worked during the day and early evening was directly in front of the Kings Cross Police Station.

I didn't say yes straight away but kept the details in my head.  It would only be another day before I would desperately need them.

That afternoon I got into a drinking session at the Bottom's Up Bar with a group of seemingly friendly gay guys.  I had made $60 during the day and was waiting for my friends to finish work so I could get into the flat (I didn't have a key).  

One of my drinking 'buddies' invited me to go with him to the toilets and smoke a joint.  I was so trusting and naive.  Within 20 minutes not only was I feeling stoned, but I started spinning out.  On a bar stool, my head exploding and my arms and legs so wracked with pins and needles that I was trying to pull them off, and screaming with the sensations I was feeling.

I vaguely remember the barman saying something to my friends and them clearly replying 'It's okay, he's my brother, I'll take him home'.....

At 3am in the morning, after being raped repeatedly by at least 5 or 6 different men, I was thrown out on the street somewhere in the back streets of Paddington.  Bleeding, still suffering the effects of Angel Dust (which I was told later was probably what the joint had been laced with) I staggered as best I could back to my friends apartment.  I had to wait until 6am before they woke up so just sat holding myself in a tight ball on the stairs.  My money had been taken and my clothes were torn and I was bleeding still from my anus. 

Up in the flat, after a hot shower and a warm and soothing cup of tea, the older guy told me I was too much trouble and had to find somewhere else to stay.  He gave me until the afternoon to get out and it was during this time that I decided to go to the brothel and see if I could get not only a job but somewhere to sleep.....