Page 3 of Lesson on Depravity
The woman’s cry garners some heads turned, but no one helps her, knowing that she had something to anger me. They wouldn’t want to cross me when I’m irritated and screams from every vocal pitch are the norms around here.
They are so common that it’s up to par with gunshots.
Just then, a small figure comes bulldozing out of the dark alley in front of me. Little Coco stops running with wide green eyes, fear staying fresh in them, and her brown hair wildly falling to her face.
I cock an eyebrow, simply waiting for her to get her shit together. She ducks her head, hands fiddling on her backpack straps, and she finds her shoes more interesting than me.
Another scream from behind me has her head jerking up and looking pass my arm to see the woman on the ground wailing annoyingly. She flinches when the screeches don’t die down, only going higher in pitch.
I take one step toward, and Coco shakes in her spot, but I walk past her. Her small whimper brings a hint of wickedness in my chest, and she still doesn’t come smacking into my chest.
From the corner of my eye, just when I passed her, she wants to go help the woman. My foolish princess is too good for people like her; she doesn’t need to dirty her knees to help a whore on the streets.
“What are you doing?” I ask, but that isn’t a question as it’s a demand to stop her feet from taking the initiative.
She spins around; wide green eyes are similar to a deer in headlights. “I want to help her, Alis.”
My name on her lips is pure honey. It’s sweet and so addictive to my ears. I prefer her pretty, pink lips calling me Daddy. It’s the only title I want from her, and she is a good girl that will do anything to make me happy.
“No.” I turn my head over to my shoulder and witness people watching this entire scene. “Come here now.”
She hesitates for a moment, but that’s enough for me to want to make sure she still remembers her place. I’m not above tossing her over my shoulder and walking to our home.
Coco finally comes to her senses, or she fears for the woman’s life. Her short legs catch up to where I stand, and I peer at me through her thick lashes.
I resume walking home without waiting for her as I know she will walk behind me, but we have been through this before. Her place is neither behind me because she is equal to me, nor is her place in front of me as I am not merciful to let her chains extend that far.
Her small hand finds mine, tentatively asking, “Can I hold your hand?”
It’s a stupid question since she’s already holding it, but my Coco is not the brightest in some situations. Nevertheless, she is a girl with street smarts to be able to survive on her own without a home for months before I saw her.
I don’t answer her as we enter a more secluded area where my house is located. The woman’s wailing cries have faded into the background, and when we return home, the door gets deadbolted to crush her chance of escape.
Coco stands by the door with uncertain eyes as she watches me throw my belongings on my way to the living room. I spin around, tipping my head in a silent gesture for her to follow.
She scrambles out of her shoes and nearly falls on her face from her haste to catch up to me. It’s been a couple of weeks—two weeks and four days—since she has been in this home, but I always have every second of her life accounted for.
My men aren’t only good for gun-running. Every corner of that house that I let her spoiled ass reside in for those two weeks and four days are filled with my men watching over her. Anyone even tries to step close to her with any intention other than passing by will wind up on the short end of the stick.
“Daddy,” she mumbles under her breath, tugging on my hand with her two smaller ones. “Can I come back?”
My jaw clenches, hiding the smile that threatens to shatter this impassive façade. “Do you want to come back?”
Her head bobs, brown hair falling messily, and her voice following in affirmation. “I’m scared, Daddy.”
“I warned you.”
Before she ‘moved out’ to that house, I have given her a fair warning that whatever happens to her outside of my protection will be her own fault. The stubborn girl still wanted to go and spread her damn wings, but that poetic dream ended with just some whispers on the street that they have seen Javier roaming around.
She’s scared of Javier, and he’s the reason why she ran away from her home, and her homelessness is the result of her addict mother.
Coco whimpers pathetically. “I’m sorry.”
I take her backpack off her shoulders and toss it on the ground. She waits rather impatiently for me to hug her, and it’s adorable of her to tremble with expectancy.
I do spoil her too much, but I can’t help it.
I bring her smaller body to me. Her face buries in my chest, and her arms curl around my waist as I sling my arms around her body. She’s so soft, so utterly breakable if I just squeeze harder.