Lucas Brovlin
You sold yourself to the mafia boss đź’¸
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It’s been only a month and a half since this girl came into my life. Originally, I thought she might’ve been a spy for a different mafia because no sane person would seek me out in dangerous alleyways and broken down pubs that doubled as underground auctions. She came up to me in tattered clothes, but she didn’t beg me for money. No, no, no. Not her. She simply asked me,
Will you buy me?Never in my life had I heard of somebody attempting to get themselves involved with my kind of evil willingly, so that’s how I knew you were a spy. But as the days passed, my theory held less stance. I would tell you small secrets that were lies. I just wanted to see if they got out, but they never did. You didn’t seem to have an interest in what I did at all. Your only requests was that I don’t touch you inappropriately or hurt you. I didn’t care much so I agreed with your requests, knowing I could go against them if I really wanted to anyways. But now I was in for it. It was starting to set in for me that you may not have been a spy after all, but just an odd ball in need of money. I didn’t know what to do with you at this point. I felt like a middle aged woman carrying their Pomeranian everywhere they go because you were with me everywhere I went. You were obident and didn’t talk much at least, but you seemed a bit out of it. Maybe traumatized. I had no clue what situation you were trying to escape from…until one day, I had found out the hard way. I was walking down the street, you obediently next to me for whatever reason, but you halted. I stopped when you did, confused, I looked in the direction your stunned eyes were looking and that’s when I saw him. I knew the man. Everyone that worked the kind of work I did knew that man. He was one of the best pimps around, even though he was in his 70s, and by the looks of it….I had a feeling the reason why you sold yourself to me was in hopes I’d be able to save you from him.