The Definition of Shame

Chapter One

He watched her through the open window. He has been working on this one for about a month and a half now. He put his camera in front of his eyes and took another picture. He was paid to do this. He did not know who it was, he didn't care. All he had cared about was putting bread on the table for himself. The camera flashed again as the woman in the window began to undress. His mouth fell slightly open. Who in the hell would leave their window open and undress in front of it? He licked his lips and took another picture, the woman half-naked now.

He felt wrong. He bit his lip hard, drawing blood and looked down, away from the open window. This was wrong and he knew it. However, he needed money to survive. Who cares if he sold a couple of pictures for food? Who would give a care if he didn't know the women he was ordered to take pictures of? This was his job. Of course, he could've taken another job but he some how enjoyed this one. It was easy. All he had to do was take pictures and develop them for a man in a black suit.

Of course, he never thought twice about the man in the darkness. He didn't even know his name. All he knew was the man offered him an easy job for a reasonable pay. That's all that mattered to him. He didn't care about the people he took shots of…right?

He looked back up, the woman now dressed in a nightgown, brushing her damp hair in front of a full-size mirror. He took another shot, blinking. This was stupid. It was stupid and he knew it. He was in darkness. It was around ten o'clock and the woman had been getting ready for bed after her night bath. It was stupid of him to come this late when the flash from the camera could give him away any moment. She could look out her open window and see some guy she didn't even know taking pictures of her undressing. It was stupid. He gave a great sigh and took one more picture of her getting in bed and then the light inside her house went off and he couldn't see anymore.

He walked back, not having a car since he couldn't afford even a bike. His camera around his neck, swaying on his chest with every step he took. He ran a slender finger through his dark brown hair and looked both ways before crossing the road.

It wasn't that he was a bad guy. He needed money. He is a high school dropout and it was hard for him to get a job. He didn't want to die or become a homeless bum and this job was the only one he could take. He turned a corner, disappeared behind a brick building into a dirty alleyway, and stopped in front of a rusted door on the side of a building in the alleyway. He was ordered to knock four times and ring the doorbell once, so that the man would know it was him and not the police. The door opened a crack for safety; the only thing visible through it was a big brown eye peering at the man in front of the door holding the camera nervously. The door opened and it was nothing but dark, a few candles lit inside.

"Come in." Said the man who lived there. His voice was deep and raspy, sounding like a killer. The other man who took pictures, walked in like every night, used to this routine. He could not see his boss's face, it was always covered by darkness as if he was hiding it incase he would snitch on him. His boss made a gesture to the moth-eaten couch, offering him a seat and he took it gratefully, having stood for hours in front of the woman's house. The man sat across from him on an invisible chair. Well, it was there but it was covered by darkness. The man's face was still hidden, but the candlelight had dimly exposed his chin.

"How many?" Asked the boss flatly, blowing out the candle that let his chin be seen. He swallowed and shrugged, even though his boss couldn't see.

"I dunno." He said. His voice was a manly voice, but not too deep. It was smooth and always calm, never giving away his true emotions behind it.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Pushed the boss, starting to sound aggressive.

"Well, there is a lot not just two or three but I didn't count when I took them." He explained. The boss nodded, invisible to him who was blinded by darkness.

"I can't pay you until I know how many you took, Caine." He said with unnecessary pushiness. Caine huffed impatiently. He needed that money now. He needed groceries.

"Can't I estimate?" He asked stupidly. The boss nearly chuckled and shook his head, rubbing his chin.

"Don't you see the problem with estimating, Caine? If you assume you took more than you did, you'd get more pay. That wouldn't be fair, now would it?" He asked childishly.

"No." Caine answered with clenched teeth.

"So develop those and bring them back tomorrow afternoon and you'll get your money." Said the boss. Caine grunted angrily and twirled his camera around.

"And next time…" His boss began, "Count before you come." He said rudely. He then stood up and walked over to the dimly lit door, opened it and waited for Caine to get up off the couch and leave. The door slammed behind him and he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. He walked home as quickly as he could. He lived in a shit apartment, with his own dark room. He walked the stairs on the inside of the beat-up building. He finally reached his apartment and slid the key in the lock, opening the door and slamming it behind him. He took his camera into his dark room and started developing, hanging them on a string with clothespins. After he was done, he made his way into his living room and plopped down tiredly on his old recliner, finally falling asleep.

He sniffed and opened his eyes, his apartment now light from the sun coming through the windows. He sat up, yawned and looked around. Dirty clothes were piled on the floor, the table was stacked with pictures of people he didn't know, and his living room was a mess. He scratched his head and got up. He walked over to his refrigerator and opened it, scanning the items he did have. He had a jug of chocolate milk, a box of one toaster strudel and a container halfway filled with rice. He sighed at his depression in his fridge, pulled out the box of strudel, and took it out, putting it in the toaster. He threw away the now empty box and rummaged through his cabinets to find a small glass.

Once he found it, he poured a little bit of chocolate milk in it and waited for his breakfast to pop up. He walked over to the table and pushed the stacks of pictures off, on the floor and sat down, beginning to eat his breakfast. He smacked as he chewed, a nasty habit of his, and in three bites, his breakfast was gone. He finished off his milk and got up to rinse it out, setting it in the sink lazily. He rubbed his stomach, still hungry and looked at the clock, it was almost noon, which meant it was almost time to get his pay.

He walked into his dark room and took the dried pictures off the line, stacked them and walked out, shutting the door behind him. He set them on his table and walked into his dirty bathroom for a quick shower before he left.

Caine was slender from is lack of food and his night walking exercise. He had short and spiky brown hair and big, beautiful blue eyes. He made sure he only took a ten-minute shower and got out, not even caring to wrap a towel around his waist. He walked into his bedroom and slipped a new pair of boxers on, then clean jeans and a clean t-shirt. He picked up his camera and his stack of photos and he was on his way to the alleyway where his boss lived.

He knocked four times and rang the doorbell once. He stood and waited for about two minutes until the door opened a crack like it had last night. The same big brown eye peered at him through the crack and then he opened it, turning his back. He had shut his blinds and covered them with blankets so his place was dark as the night had been. Caine walked in and his boss shut the door with a hard slam. Caine helped himself to a seat on the couch as his boss sat across from him like the night before.

"Do you have all of them?" He asked Caine, his voice more raspy than last night.

"Yes." He answered simply, handing his boss the stack of photos of the woman he had been taking pictures of. His boss's eyes must've been so adjusted to the darkness that he flipped through the pictures saying "Mmhmm. Mmhmm."

"Alright, Caine." He said, standing up and setting the pictures on a nearby table. He went through a drawer with some shuffling sounds and then came back and sat down across from Caine once more. He heard the crinkling of money and he licked his lips and sat up, ready for food. His boss handed over a chunk of money and Caine kissed it, sliding it in his pocket.

"Before you leave, Mr. Maguire I have a new assignment for you." His boss said. Caine looked up at his boss as he stood up and fetched a piece of paper off the table he had put the photos on. He shoved the paper in Caine's hand and sat back down. Caine narrowed his eyes and tried to read the markings on the paper in the darkness but couldn't, the boss chuckling at him.

"If you can't read it in here, read it outside." He said. "I don't need to see you right now. I have better things to do." Said the boss, and with that, Caine got up and made his way out of his house. Caine squinted when he got out in the sun and tried to get his vision back. Once he did, he looked down at the frayed paper in his hand. It had an address on it in black ink. His pulled his eyebrows down and looked up from the paper, turning around and knocking four times and ringing the doorbell once.

No answer came. He repeated his steps, making sure he knocked a little louder than before incase his boss wasn't in the front room. He heard heavy footsteps coming from inside the house and the door opened a sliver, the brown eye peering at him from inside. It narrowed.

"What do you want?" Asked the raspy voice of his boss aggressively. "Haven't I already finished with you? I'm expecting someone else around this time. Whatever you have to say, make it damn quick." He spat through the crack of the door. Caine cleared his throat.

"It's just…this address looks really familiar." He explained. The brown eye narrowed once more.

"So?" He pushed, the door swinging slightly. He had his hand on the doorknob, and when he talked, his hand moved for some reason.

"I don't know…I just have a really weird feeling about this one…I think I've been to this place before." Caine said, swallowing and indeed, he had. But only in a dream. A very, realistic, weird dream. He had been to the house on the street that was marked in black ink on the paper in his hand.

"Do you want the money, or not?" Asked the boss impatiently. Caine thought it over for a moment. This was definitely weird. He didn't remember that dream. The only thing he had known about the address was he had been there before. And he didn't feel like finding the woman he had to take pictures of, even if he didn't see her in his dream.

"Yes, sir." Caine said uneasily. He swallowed again, trying to eliminate the large lump in his throat. He heard someone approaching and turned around, watching a large man walk up to the door in the alleyway.

Caine was half the size of him, coming up to about his waist. The man had a long scar across his face, starting at the top of his head where his hairline started. He had two different color eyes, one a light brown and the other, a grayish blue. His hair was a dark auburn and he smelt of cigarettes and sweat.

"Ah, my next appointment is here, Caine. You must leave." Said the boss rudely. The tall man smiled at Caine politely and waved goodbye as Caine reluctantly left the alleyway into the bright sun. Caine rubbed his eyes and looked at the wrinkled paper, blinking. He heaved a sigh and made his way to the street marked on the paper. He wanted to see who it was he was supposed to be taking pictures of and if she looked familiar. He turned a corner and reached River Avenue, looking for the house number that was written on the paper. He finally found it.

The house was white and medium-sized, all the windows were open letting the cool afternoon breeze warm the house. He squinted into one and saw a girl sitting on a couch, watching television. She had long straight black hair and very pale skin. She looked about three or four years younger than him, but she was absolutely beautiful with huge sapphire blue eyes that sparkled in the sunlight. He swallowed when she flipped her sleek-looking hair away from her face. She had to be the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He bit the inside of his cheek and smiled. He would take pleasure in taking pictures of her. He'd probably even take extras and keep a few for himself. He chuckled at his thoughts.

But then, he wondered. Did she live alone? Or did she live with another woman? And if she did which one was he assigned to take pictures of? The girl got up and looked out the window. Once she saw him, she narrowed her eyes and disappeared, then coming out of the front door, walking in his direction.

She was even more stunning when she walked. She was slender, but had curves. Her hair bounced when she took a step and it shined in the light. Her skin was white, she was so pale you could see her veins in her wrist clearly. She finally made it to him and he took a whiff. She smelt of sweet jade and honey, and she came up to about his shoulder. Her huge eyes bored deep into his, piercing him, making him nervous and he was never like that with his work. He never got nervous…never. He scratched his nose.

"Why are you standing outside my house?" She asked. Her voice was small, but stern like a mother's voice. It was smooth and soft, and it made him shiver.

"Um, well…I was just walking." His voice cracked, and it never did that. She narrowed her eyes, but they were still wide as she did it. She tucked her hair behind her ears and crossed her arms, putting all her weight on one foot so one hip was slightly up.

"Well, then why are you just standing there looking inside my window?" She tested in her soft voice. It was hard to concentrate.

"Uh, I had to tie my shoe." He lied stupidly. She gave him a skeptical look.

"Look, dude. It's cool and all if you wanted to see inside my house but don't do it again or I'll call the cops on you." She threatened, and with that she turned on her heel and stalked away, her hips moving up and down. He opened his mouth to say 'wait!' but his voice had stopped working and she kept walking, and then slammed the front door of her house behind her.

He had never taken so much interest in his assignments before. He didn't usually care what they looked like, or even what their name was. They were pictures, which were money that turned into food so he could survive and he was so selfish he didn't care about their feelings or their identities.

He took in a long breath and then exhaled, starting to walk away from the house he was assigned to. Maybe he shouldn't. Maybe he should quit this job. Maybe he should just get to know this girl more and they could be friends. He smacked himself on the forehead, which gained weird looks from people who were passing by.

What was he thinking? He needed food! But surely, he could get another job. But, he was a dropout and it was impossible to get a good-paying job. He sighed with his mind racing and sat on a bench. He played with his camera and thought about all the women he had taken pictures of for man he didn't even know. He didn't know what he looked like, nor what his name was but still he took the one hundred dollars for every picture he took of those poor women in the windows.

He was starting to care and it was her fault. That girl. No, that assignment. It was all her fault. He doesn't care. He doesn't. He straightened up and smiled at his camera.

"I don't care." He said aloud to himself. An elderly woman stopped and looked at him for a short moment and then continued walking, muttering to herself about weirdos.

He did not care.