“Right. Ariah, we got rules, yeah? You want to stay here, you got to abide by them.” She looked me directly in the eye as she laid them out, counting them on her fingers as she went. I stared right back, bloodless and on the verge of panic. I, like most with a tendency towards shaping, do very badly with pain. The fact that she was about to hurt me very much undermined that nascent attraction I’d harbored moments before. “One: cause no problems in the house. Don’t pick fights with the rest. Two: bring no problems to the house. Last thing we need is a peacekeeper sniffing around. The courts are always a heartbeat away from demolishing us and then we’re on the street. Keep your nose clean out there. Three: stay clean. Addicts always end up breaking those first two rules. Give the poppy dens a wide berth. Got it?”

“Yes.” It came out half-whispered, strangled.

She narrowed her eyes at me. “You agree?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” She made me shake on it, narrowed her eyes once more to make sure I knew she was serious about it, and reached for the needle. She grabbed my ear with the clamp, which had narrow holes worked into its feet. I had a moment of panic and tried to stand up, but she held me in place with that damned clamp. I squealed in pain. She scoffed at me. “I’ve not even pricked you yet,” she said. And then, with a sure and steady hand, she shoved the needle through my ear. I howled, but still she wouldn’t let me go. She told me to keep it down, but I couldn’t. The faces of the other gang members crept around corners and watched me weep. It stung worse when she fed the ring through. She clamped the ring shut, patted me on the shoulder, and told me it was official. Now that I was appropriately wounded, I was allowed to sleep in that awful place.