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***




I slowly walk through the door of our house and try to sneak up to my room without Him hearing me, but just as I have managed to inch halfway up them I hear Him call, “‘Lena, come to the kitchen table, please, I need you.” The last three words are the ones I dread most.

I bounce down the stairs and walk calmly (even though I’m anything but) to the table and the Monster that awaits me there.

“Yes, Daddy?” He loves it when I call him that. I am a little girl again when I say it. I am His daughter. We are at the zoo and He is loving His little girl in the far stall of the restroom where no one else can see or hear. I hate it because it reminds me of the day He went from Daddy to Monster.

“Sit on Daddy’s lap, ‘Lena, and wait until he’s done with his drink.” I sit on His lap like He wants and feel Him already ready and against my butt. I keep my legs closed.

“Open your legs, dear, you want to please Daddy don’t you?” I swallow and spread my legs for Him, almost whimpering but knowing not to, so I don’t.

“Yes Daddy.”

He puts His right arm around my waist like a normal dad would to hold his daughter close, but unlike normal dads His hand trails to my jean button as His left hand reaches for His favorite drink of Jack and He gulps it down.

I bite my lip as He undoes my jeans and they slide down my legs and onto the floor, off of me.

“Get up, dear, and pick up your pants. Meet me upstairs in my room.”

I swallow and hop off Him, bending and picking up my pants and feeling Him probe me, making my body go hot.

“Yes Daddy,” I rush up the stairs and as I enter His and Mother’s room I hear him shout, “By the time I’m there, be naked and on your hands and knees.”

I know he doesn't want a “yes Daddy,” so I just strip and get in position on the bed. Now for the hardest part: waiting.

A few minutes later I hear the door open and shut and He locks it. His pants are unzipped and He tosses them somewhere I don’t see. The rest of His clothes are discarded before He gets to me because I can feel all of Him naked near me.

He groans,“Oh ‘Lena…”

I swallow and fake a moan because He wants it and what He wants He gets or He hurts me.

“That’s right, my little whore, moan for me. You need me don’t you, baby girl?” He grips my bruised hips and I moan in pain, but He thinks it’s in pleasure while I’m moaning every second and shaking in pain. I know I’ll find blood afterward. I will be sore tomorrow. Not that ‘Daddy’ cares.

“No coming, you stupid bitch. Get it ‘Lena?” I moan and whimper, “Yes Daddy.”

He groans and I feel the stickiness that tells me He has finished inside of me again.

“To your room now before your mother gets home.”

I swallow and get re-dressed, “Yes Daddy.”

Shutting my door, I wish I could lock it, but I can’t. Ultimate punishment for locking him out. Instead, I slip into my bathroom and clean up then grab the razor that will numb me of this pain. It is the only thing that I can trust, the only thing in this house (besides my drawings) that helps me.

He calls me to the table that night, for dinner, and I know there’s something up when Mother sits across from Him and me. We go through the normal, “pass me the salt” and all that as He sets his hand on my knee. I don’t meet his eyes and instead look at Mother, “So, Mama, what’s the occasion?”

She looks at me, then giggles at Him and I know she’s been into her stash, “Well, there was a letter for you in the mailbox.” My eyebrows rise as my stomach fills with dread.

He takes over, chuckling drunkenly,“It was from Garret, ‘Lena, what did we tell you about talking to the little faggot?” I almost cringe at that word—there’s the hate again. If I saw a little bit of acceptance in my life, I’d probably die of surprise.

“Not to, Daddy,” I almost whimper, and He smacks my stomach right over the biggest bruise on me.

“What ‘Lena?” His hand moves up my thigh as I gulp and say in a normal voice, “You told me not to, Daddy.”

Mother giggles as she steals a sip of His drink and takes over again, “And what’s the punishment for disobeying, ‘Lena?” She uses His nickname for me as a way to scare me and I end up doing the one thing I’d vowed not to do ever since my tenth birthday—I whimpered.

“Oh, listen t’ the poor baby… she’s scared. Poor dear,” He rubs His hand up between my legs and I moan, my body bursting into fire yet again. Traitor.

I notice His pants tent and bite my lip—He’s going to have fun with me tonight, and it’s going to hurt.

I force myself to finish my dinner while Mother giggles and He has fun touching me in taboo areas.

“Hurry up to your room, little girl, I’ll see you after I and your mother have some fun…” He finishes off His what-must-be tenth bottle since I've been home and I run up the stairs, shutting my room door and laying naked on the bed, waiting for Him. After this, I can sleep.

*

End of the week, I exit the school doors and let Mother know I’m going to the library to study for Monday’s test. She says it’s okay so long as I’m home an hour before dinner. Of course, I have a week of punishment for the letter.

The end of this year. In May, I will be 18 and able to move out—I can get my own place and never have to please Him again. But my mind’s fucking with me. I can’t move out until I have the money. And I won’t have the money for a couple years—more if I’m just sneaking quarters at a time.

“Philena!” Crap, Adam.

I stop at the edge of the step and glance over my shoulder at him, but before he reaches me, someone else does, and they push me down so I tumble to the bottom of the half-story of steps and onto the hard concrete.

“Hey! Get the hell away from her!” Awww he’s so innocent, using hell instead of an actual cuss word.

“Why? You gonna make me?” My eyes close. My attacker was Chase, and where there’s Chase, there’s Ally and his cronies.

“Yes.” I hear a tackle then a crunch of bones as a big body lands very close to me. I look up to see Adam punching Chase in the gut then getting up, “Hey, you alright, Philena? Can you get up?”

I check all my limbs and my ribs and the only thing that twinges is my right wrist, but that’s because it’s still healing from other stuff.

“Yeah,” I climb back up and whisper “thank you” then start to walk away.

“Why did he do that?”

I sigh, “Because he does that.”

“But wh—” he starts.

“No. It’s none of your business. Have a good weekend, Liechent.”

I walk away and head toward the library. Little did I know then that he followed just to make sure I’d be okay.