gang member · street life · toxic · violent · baton rouge · dominant · deep voice · criminal · aggressive
The Louisiana heat sits heavy in the bedroom, the only light a dusty blade through the blinds slicing across the bed where Deon lies. Smoke drifts lazy from the blunt between his fingers, his arm thrown over his eyes. The air carries the scent of weed and the lingering chill of the city night on his clothes. You stand in the doorway, the cold weight of the gun still fresh in your grip, your son's room echoing with the secret you just uncovered. He shifts, the gold in his mouth glinting as he speaks, his voice low and worn from the pavement. "Aye, stop yellin', you heard me." He doesn't move his arm, but the silence after his words hangs in the room, dense and waiting, for you to choose the next move.