Daddy's Girl

Daddy’s Girl. 

“That’s a good girl, come on,” 

“Dad? Daddy?” I questioned hastily. My heart started to thrum like  humming bird wings and my stomach clenched. Fear. It was dark, so dark.

“I said come on here, I ain’t gon’ hurt ya.” His voice sounded gruff, filled with alcohol probably. I timidly walked over to where he stood next to the couch. I could see the outline of his form; he staggered slightly as he stretched out his hand to pull me into his arms. 

His hold wasn’t as comfortable as I remembered. It had been a while since he 'd even talked to me let alone hugged me—since my recent fourteenth birthday…and the day my mom died.

“You look just like her…” he whispered. 

“Ow, dad, you’re hurting me.” 

“Shhh,” he stroked my hair, his hand inched down, lower to my shoulder. I shuddered; he towered over my small frame. My breath caught in my throat and my heart felt as if it was going to burst out of my ribs any second now. I was so scared.

“Daddy?” I squeaked.  

“Mmmm,” he grunted, “so soft...” his hand inched down even lower. This wasn’t right; dads aren’t supposed to do this to their daughters, are they?

“Ouch daddy,” I cried, tears began to stream down my face. 

“Shut up and quit your whinin’!” 

“Please, stop, daddy please.” I whisper-begged. 

I felt the sting before I realised what he had done. He had back-handed me across my cheek. Pain shot through my skull and tears automatically spilled out of my eyes.

He was touching me in places I knew dads weren’t supposed to touch. I begged him to stop. The memory is distant now, like my mind refuses to remember certain parts. 

But I remember how the light of the moon shone against his ragged face above me, he hadn’t shaved in days. I remember his blood shot eyes and the evil expression on his face, an expression I didn’t know could exist in the real world let alone on my daddy. I was always a daddy’s girl, for as long as I can remember. His hand was securely held over my mouth as the heavy weight of his body pressed into mine.  

Silent tears spilled continuously down my face, and I froze. My insides froze, my world froze. Things like this only happened in books and in movies, so I thought. I was an innocent girl at only fourteen, not yet comprehending the vast level of evil that the world could hold.

I was an innocent fourteen year old girl when my daddy raped me.

I would never be the same again. 

“You don’t want to do this.”

My hands trembled around the cool metal as the memory shot through my mind. Disgust raised goose-bumps all over my body. I savagely wiped at the tears that streamed down my face, merged with my mascara and eyeliner. 

“You fucking bastard! You disgusting pig! You make me sick!” I screeched.

“Lyndie,”

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up!”

“I am so sorry honey,” he begged. Who would have thought it? Tears on a grown man’s face.

“You don’t deserve to live.” I whispered in a hate filled voice. 

“Honey, just put it down,” he tried calmly. Anger rose within me, how dare he!? My grip steadied, but the tears kept falling. 

“Don’t call me honey! DON’T!” I screamed at him. 

“Please,” he whispered. 

I surveyed him for the first time in two years and compared him to the grueling image that was permanently stitched into my mind. He was cleanly shaven; his light blue eyes glistened with tears. The light of the moon shone against his face, almost making him look….angelic. 

A sarcastic snicker found itself at the base of my throat and I let it out. Fear was blatant on his face. Good.

“I hate you. I hate you for what you did to me.” my voice was hard, I barely recognised it.  

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. 

My I let my finger press slightly against the trigger. 

“I’m sorry too…daddy.” I whispered.

BANG

The sound of the gun was louder than I ever imagined it to be. Heat and a small pain coursed through my hand, as I stared down at the man surrounded by a pool of a crimson coloured liquid…blood.

“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?”

“Hello, my name is Lyndie-Maria Kyle Stewart and I just shot my daddy point blank in the heart.”

Hi, and thanks for reading. This is just another short story, in other words you could call it a story idea. I've been thinking,  instead of writing and not finishing a story, because I tend to do that when I have a story idea, I'll just post a small part, like a short story. I hope you enjoyed it. Please comment and tell me what you think and maybe vote and like? That's if you like it. :)

Sara

xx