*Being Published in 2022*
❝You can't deny that you're attracted to me, Nyx. Instead of fighting it, let's see what happens,❞ he grumbled, hands roaming my body. His thumb brushed my bottom lip. ❝Open up for me, baby.❞
...
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I hated myself. I hated myself, and it was all my dad's fault. He made me feel as if I was the problem. In his mind, everyone was the problem except him. Every scowl hurled my way, I questioned what I did to warrant that. What had I done to bother him? Was there a way to make things better? I spent hours crying because I wanted to make my dad happy. But I could never do anything right. I always felt as if there was a tube shoved into my chest, gradually bleeding me of my worth. I hated myself more with every passing day.
Every time my dad raised his hand or voice, I'd feel another piece of myself begin to break. I didn't think there was anything left of me to break anymore. He trampled my confidence for years and now I was nothing but his puppet, his good little girl. He carved words of disgust into my skin each time he articulated. No amount of scrubbing could free my skin, I'd tried.
Foolishly, I placed my dad on a pedestal. To me, he was this judge who determined my worthiness. And I was never worthy. Thinking back on it, it irked me that I ever wanted his admiration. It meant nothing. He'd spent his entire life seeking approval from his parents and he demanded us to be the same.
Sometimes I hated that I remembered things so precisely. Instead of it replaying in my mind, it felt like I was reliving everything again. It was the worst. I remembered the first time my dad hit me, at least, it was the earliest memory I had of being hit. I was seven years old. I didn't have any memories of him before that age, and I knew it was my infantile mind allowing me to forget the trauma, erase him from my memories.
My dad cuffed me to the window bar in my room. He cuffed me because I spoke back to him. Annie couldn't unlock me because she didn't have the key. But she kept me company the entire day whilst my dad went to work. My mom had left earlier, before the commotion, and I'd like to think she didn't know what happened. Or else she'd have done something. She was pregnant with Poppy at the time, so I could understand why she wouldn't intervene. One wrong move and that baby was gone.
I whined to be let loose, screamed my throat raw. Annie sat next to me, running her fingers through my hair. My pants were moistened with piss and shit because I couldn't go to the bathroom. There was vomit all over my clothes because I'd suffocated on my cries and threw up what little breakfast I had. Annie laid on her bed, crying. My dad got home first, and he wasn't thrilled with the mess I made. He slapped me, right across the face. One of my baby teeth had fallen out and blood trickled from my mouth. My mom washed me that night, muttering apologies in my ear as I sobbed in her arms, feeling Poppy kick beneath my shaking hands.
Over the noise of the shower, I could hear my dad commending Annie for being a good girl for two whole days. He gave her two dollars like she was a dog needing a treat. I waited with my mom after that, not wanting to be around him. Annie wouldn't look me in the eye. I thought my dad finally turned her against me. She stayed by his side during dinner. When my mom put me to bed, I stammered a quick prayer and settled my tooth under my pillow. When I woke up the next morning, the tooth was gone. And in its place was two dollars.
