Jesus sat in his living room smoking dope and watching the little girl that had been left in his care. She sat on the end of the couch a few feet away from him glaring daggers at him. A faint bruise no her left cheekbone from where he’d slapped her earlier that day. He had to admit for a little kid she was pretty brave. She hadn’t cried once since she woke up and found herself locked in a house full of strangers.
She was a pretty little thing. Thick dark curls and big green eyes. Her skin was like porcelain. She looked like a little china doll sitting there in her little school girl uniform. When she grew up, she was going to be a knockout. She turned her face to him hatred in her eyes and a sneer curving her little lips.
Jesus slid across the couch cushions until he was sitting right n
