Don't Refuse Me, Daddy

Chapter 2 Our Home

I was afraid of every one of Tyrone's girlfriends—or rather, the way they all treated me.

After he saved me that day,

Tyrone told me the man wasn't alone. He was certain there were others waiting outside, hidden, ready to back him up. With me in his arms, Tyrone knew it wasn't the time to fight back; escape was our best option. He carried me to my room, quickly packed a few pieces of clothing, and, after a glance around, picked up the puppy plush he'd given me on the day we met.

And just like that, I soon found myself in Tyrone's apartment. It was a place I could only describe as distinctly his—a bachelor's apartment, meticulously clean, the whole space draped in a monochrome palette of blacks, whites, and grays. Tyrone lived alone, just like me now.

"Shouldn't we call the police?" I asked hesitantly. Tyrone ruffled my hair, his touch gentle. "You don't need to worry about that," he said, a calm certainty in his voice. "I'll handle everything." To comfort me, he shared a part of himself he'd never spoken of before: he, too, had lost his family at a young age. Somehow, his words eased my fear, and with the small plush puppy clutched to my chest, I drifted off to sleep. Later, I awoke to the sound of raised voices. A woman was arguing with Tyrone in the hallway, her words sharp and insistent.

I slipped out of bed, clutching my toy, and crouched behind the guest room door, listening.

It was his girlfriend. She kept urging him to send me away, her tone laced with disbelief. "Are you really planning on raising her yourself?" she demanded, incredulous.

"She's got no one else in the world," Tyrone replied, his voice resolute.

The woman fell silent, and it seemed she had agreed. I could tell she loved Tyrone very much. But two days later, she made her move while Tyrone was out. She took me to an orphanage, leaving me there without a second thought.

But Tyrone soon came for me, just as I'd hoped he would. His eyes met mine, soft with regret. "I'm sorry," he said, voice thick with apology. "I couldn't protect you."

Then he leaned down and asked, "I never thought to ask... would you want to live with me?"

I nodded. Who else did I have?

He wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight. First, he laughed in relief, then his tears dampened my shoulder. Holding my hand, he said, "Let's go home. That woman will never come back."

In a town like ours, a tragedy this severe would have made headlines, but oddly, I found no mention of it in any newspaper. No police ever came asking questions. It was as if my family's story had vanished.

A week later, Tyrone decided it was time for us to leave. "It's not safe here," he told me. "And I don't want you around any reminders of... that day." I overheard him arguing on the phone, seemingly giving something up for my sake, but he waved my questions away. "You're still young," he would say, and I knew better than to press.

We left the city in Tyrone's rugged SUV, dust rising behind us as we sped down the road. He pointed out landmarks on the map, sharing his excitement about the small town that would be our new home, a place over a thousand miles away. No one knew us there. We could start over.

I sat in the passenger seat, hugging the plush puppy, watching the city fade behind us. It wasn't my first time leaving home—Mom and Dad had taken us on vacations before. But those trips were different; then, I knew home would be waiting when we returned.

This time, I felt as if the last thread tying me to my old life had been severed, leaving me adrift, like an astronaut cut loose from a tether floating through space. I had seen those astronauts on TV. They always tied themselves to the space station when leaving it, or they could never return again.

But I looked over at Tyrone, his face focused and calm as he drove. At least I wasn't alone in this strange new orbit.

When we arrived at our destination, Tyrone took me to see our new home—a small, simple house. "This is where we'll live together," he said. "It's our home now." The place was sparsely furnished, but he promised we could make it our own, decorating it however we wanted.

He was new to taking care of a young girl, and I could tell he was out of his depth. The journey had tired me out, so each night, I fell asleep easily in the hotel. But once we settled in, the weight of my grief and the strangeness of my new surroundings started to catch up with me.

I woke from nightmares, gasping, night after night. Tyrone seemed unsure of what to do. He tried a dozen different ways to comfort me, but in the end, he found that simply patting my back like Lily used to was what soothed me most.

Tyrone hadn't been much of a cook before. He used to make simple meals, more for sustenance than taste. But now, he stocked up on kitchen tools and struggled through cookbooks, even secretly enrolling in a cooking class. Gradually, his food grew more flavorful, almost rivaling Mom's.

Over time, we found our rhythm. Our new town was peaceful, and Tyrone always reminded me to keep a low profile for the sake of my safety. I followed his advice, blending in at school and avoiding attention.

But life didn't wait forever, and our little world wasn't as isolated as I might have hoped.

Tyrone was young and handsome, and predictably, he didn't lack admirers.

But the women who entered his life always saw me as a problem, an unwelcome addition to their ideal image of a relationship. To impress Tyrone, they were all smiles around me, but behind his back, they tried every trick to push me aside.

It was strange, though... none of them seemed to last. Those who had tried to hurt me never appeared again.

Maybe, just maybe... angels did exist.