~Daddy~
Angela trudged slowly down the gravel road, her feet feeling heavy in her worn sneakers. Her head hung low, encouraging her black curls to surround her face. Before she knew it, it was happening again. The old, run down house loomed before her like a nightmare. She struggled against that familiar urge to run as fast as her legs could carry back down the road. One day she was sure she would, but this wasn’t that day. Slowly making her way up the rickety wooden steps, she strained for sounds of her father’s presence. Not hearing anything, she timidly stepped up to the broken screen door and pulled it open. Looking around, her big doe eyes scanned the interior of the old trailer house. Nothing but the usual sight stared back at her. Filthy laundry lay scattered on the old furniture, dirty dishes waiting to be washed stood in piles in and around the sink. The sun streamed in, illuminating the broken beer bottles on the floor.
Angela crept inside, still not sure whether to trust her instincts. She jumped in surprise, letting out a terrified squeak at the sound of a broken glass shard crunching beneath her feet. Her pounding heart soon quieted as she made her way to her room at the back of the house. Quickly tossing her backpack down on the unmade bed, she ran to her closet, reaching into the back and pulling out a short, silky blue halter dress. She changed out of her old school clothes and powdered her white face, making it look even paler than usual. Her lips were reddened with her dead mama’s bright red lipstick and her eyes darkened with the eyeliner she’d stolen yesterday. She looked at herself in the cracked mirror and smiled. She looked just like she usually did: at least nineteen. They would be pleased to see her. Her eyes wandered to the dusty picture on the broken vanity. Her mother’s kind eyes stared back. She wouldn’t be she wouldn’t be so me now, thought Angela, tears creeping up behind her eyes. Angry, she looked away, and after grabbing the seven-inch platform heels she made a dash for the back door. She ran, not stopping to catch her breath until she reached the deserted parking lot. Others were already waiting for her. Business was conducted in an old building a few yards from where the other women sat. She stopped running, her breath coming in desperate pants. After pulling on the black heels, she made her way next to Hannah, one of the usuals. She wasn’t used so often anymore, but she came everyday anyway, her eyes lighting up every time the pimp called her name. She glanced at Angela, her eyes squinting from the glare of the late afternoon sun. When she spoke, her voice sounded deep and raspy from smoking.
“Why so late today?”
“I had to serve an hour of detention after school.” Angela’s voice was cautious. None of the other girls here knew she was only sixteen, just Hannah.
“Then why aren’t you still there?”
“I persuaded the principle to let me go earlier.”
Hannah nodded, her eyes blankly staring ahead. There was no need to ask how she’s done it. This girl had talent, and everyone knew it. She was so young, but still experienced, just how the men liked their girl to be. She was cold when she managed, her beauty was intoxicating and deadly, encouraging them to come again. She was the money, that’s why the pimp liked her so much.
“You been takin’ those pills I gave you?”
Angela looked at her in irritated surprise. “Would I risk being here if I hadn’t.”
“Guess not.” She chuckled, her laugh deep. “You’re not that dumb.”
The younger girl didn’t join in, her voice ice. “I may stink in school, but I’m an expert at what I do here.” As if to confirm her words, the pimp yelled her name. Angel. It was what he always called her. He nodded his head towards the broken down shack, indicating she had a buyer.
Hannah snorted, not looking at Angela, afraid she would die from the jealousy welling inside her. “Not five minutes here and already someone wants her.”
Angela walked up the pimp, already knowing what he wanted. His name was Johnny. He was lean even though he lived comfortably off eighty percent of the money his girls provided for him. His black suit enhanced his dark appearance, which had scared her at first, but not anymore. She hated him, but he knew that already. His hand cupped her cheek, forcing her to look into his eyes, reminding her she’d get a whipping if she didn’t give the men exactly what they wanted. Her eyes blazed, her head snapping away in defiance.
He laughed mockingly. “That’s my Angel. Go and do the only thing you’re good at.”
Angela glared at him, lifting her chin and walking slowly towards the dark, one room shack. Not long after reclining on the old couch, her customer walked inside. He was young and appeared unsure of himself. She knew the type. He wouldn’t take long. Putting on her well-trained smile, she patiently waited for him to come closer.
“Don’t be scared,” she purred softly. “I already know what you want, but if you don’t come closer, I won’t be able to give it to you.” She pulled at the bow behind her neck, revealing her milky breasts pressed up against a black lace bra. Slowly, she lowered the dress, kicking it off the couch when she was finished. She could hear his soft intake of breath as she stood up and walked towards him. This one obviously needed encouragement.
She brushed his lips softly against hers, which took a great deal of effort because even with her heals; she was still a few inches shorter than him. Her kisses intensified as he began to respond. She pressed herself closer and, with his help, removed the white t-shirt he was wearing. Quelling her disgust, she let his hands roam where they pleased. Before she knew it, she was sprawled out under him on the couch. A single tear made it’s way down her powdered cheek. She was glad for the darkness of the room but for a few streams of light coming from the holes in the ceiling. He couldn’t see her misery. She winced softly, but the sound of pain was lost in the air of his screams and groans when he plunged into her one last time.
Angela forced herself to smile at him as he left. When he glanced at her, she saw the guilt in his eyes. No doubt this had been his first time in a place like this. He wouldn’t be back. She moved to dress herself but stopped at the sound of Johnny’s voice.
“Stay in there, Angel. Someone else is here to see you.”
Something inside her crumbled. Her eyelids drooped in exhaustion, but she dressed anyway. He stepped inside. Her skin immediately tingled in fear. What was her father doing in a place like this? She wanted to throw up and leave this place forever but didn’t dare. If she exposed herself now, he would kill her. She could still feel the lashes on her back from the last time.
His voice slurred from too many drinks at the local bar. “They…they say yer the best here. Prove ‘em right. Show me what yah have to offer.”
Before she had a chance to respond, he fell on her, nearly crushing her petite form with his heavy weight. Trembling, she made up her mind to use what she had to her advantage. She moaned softy, encouraging him as she let her hands travel up and down his body. Her clothes were off of her body within seconds of his arrival to accommodate the kisses he sent down her exposed body. Her gut twisted at the smell of alcohol on his lips. Her legs clutched his body to hers in a pretended fit of passion. Life briefly left her body as he invaded her, drawing blood as he clawed desperately at her neck. She fought the urge to kick him away from her as she bit her lips in agony. His moans filled the small room. She felt so dirty. She hated herself only a little less than she hated him. When he left she quickly dressed, snatching the money Johnny handed her and running home so she could make it before her father.
Angela walked up the creaking steps, once again opening the screen door. Like before, a sigh of relief escaped her lips when she noticed her father was nowhere to be seen. Running to her room, she grabbed a tissue, rubbing the makeup from her face. Heavy footsteps sounded throughout the old house, shaking her to the very core of her being. Not having time to pull pajamas over her bra and panties, she slipped quickly into bed. Her father’s footsteps came closer, no matter how hard she wished them away. A bottle shattered against her locked door.
“Open up.”
Angela’s voice shook. “No. Not tonight. I’m tired.”
“I don’t care. Open up.” His voice rose to a dangerous new level.
A sob choked her throat. “Go away.” She got out of bed and huddled in the grimy corner next to the broken window just like she had almost every night since she was eight. Something slammed against the flimsy wooden door. A few more hits and the door gave in, no longer protecting her against her father’s resolve to take her yet again. He stumbled slowing towards her. A moment passed before taking in the sight of her crumbled body on the floor. She held back a cry of pain as he yanked her onto the bed, keeping her expression carefully blank as he clumsily removed the last remnants of her clothing. She closed her eyes, willing it all to be over, quivering in distaste when he pressed his lips to the curve of her breasts.
His hands traveled to her smooth inner thigh, pleased when he detected her quick intake of breath. Oblivious to the terror in his daughter’s black eyes, he knelt above her. As always, he marveled at the white perfection of her body, the moonlight streamed inside the open window, making her dark waves shine. He smiled drunkenly, then lay beside her, letting his hands travel roughly up and down her body. The sound of her frightened sob only heightened his excitement.
“Don’t be scared,” he whispered.
Angela whimpered softly as he lowered his body once again on hers. Her breath came in desperate pants as he nearly crushed her upper body with his dead weight. She tried to push him away but couldn’t. That familiar sense of panic filled mind, making it impossible to think of anything else. Every night was the same. She felt so tired. Her vision blurred as a blank numbness settled over her body. Nothing would ever change. Her father’s breathing increased dramatically as he pressed harder against her body. She closed her eyes, wishing for death’s mercy.
She remembered the first time he’d come into her room. It was after her mother died. She was playing with the set of rag dolls she’d received last Christmas, oblivious to her father’s quite entrance or the lust in his eyes. When she at last saw him, she smiled.
“Play with me, Daddy.”
He crouched down next to her. “I have a better idea.”
“What?”
“Daddy’s going to play another fun game with you, but it’s a secret. You can’t tell anyone.”
“A secret?” She was elated to share something with someone usually so distant towards her. “What kind?”
“A game just for you and me.”
“How do you play?”
“First you have to take off your clothes.”
At eight years old, Angela remembered feeling somewhat disgusted. “No. Mama said I shouldn’t do that.”
“Mama’s not here.” He took a menacing step towards her. “Do as I say.”
Fear gripped little Angela’s heart as she made a daring dash under the bed. “No. Go away.”
“Don’t you sass me.” He knelt beside the bed. “Get out from under that bed.” His voice softened, persuasively. “There’s nothing to be scared of, baby.” When she continued to refuse him, he started to grab at her. He laughed as his hands found and arm. Grasping it, he dragged her out from under the old bedstead and yanked her onto the bed.
By now Angela’s eyes were full of tears and her body shaking with terrified sobs. She shrieked as he began to tear of her clothes and cover her little body with his.
“Daddy, stop. Why are you being so mean to me?” He didn’t respond. She tried again, the lump in her throat making it hard to talk.
“I’m sorry for being bad at lunch. I’ll never talk back a-” She screamed as a horrible pain invaded her body, then briefly blacked out. When she awoke, her father’s eyes had taken on a glazed appearance. Why was he behaving this way? His moans were horrible. The pain she felt was increasing. Just when she thought it would never end, he stopped.
“I hoped you liked our game, baby. It’s something I’m going to play with you a lot.”
He left, leaving her in the darkness. Why did she feel so strange? Wordlessly, she got off the bed, and scared by the trail of blood she was leaving, huddled under the bed, crying herself to sleep.
That was the first time. This would be her last. Her father’s form soon stilled. She pushed him away, walking slowly from the room, trying to ignore the dull pain between her legs. Avoiding the broken glass on the floor, she went to her father’s room and pulled up one of the loose floorboards. The moonlight glinted off the silver pistol. She smiled, feeling drunk in the pleasure she felt emanating from the cold hardness of the trigger. She scribbled down a few words on a sheet of paper and left. Walking out the back door and into the woods, she lay down amongst the dirt and dry leaves. A thorn pricked her tender skin, the blood stark against her paleness.
Angela pressed the front of the pistol to the pounding pulse in her neck. It felt so right there. She didn’t know why she hadn’t tried it earlier.
She focused her eyes on the few stars blinking softly against the back velvety sky. “I’m coming, Mama.” She pulled the trigger, feeling ecstasy scream from every limb in her body. Relief overtook her body before everything went black.
***
Sheriff Rockwell knocked his fist against the screen door the next morning. In his arms, he held the body of a girl around sixteen or seventeen years old. The top of her naked body was partially covered in dry blood, an ugly wound painfully noticeable near the top part of her neck. The slight smile she wore scared him. A man opened the door, his eyes red from lack of sleep and his appearance disheveled. His eyes widened at the site of the young girl.
“This your daughter?”
The other man cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. “What makes you think it is?”
“She was found just over there. Made some inquiries already. Neighbors say she lives here.” He held up a pistol. “This yours?”
“Well I ain’t the one who shot her.”
“So you admit she’s your daughter?”
“She is,” he said hesitantly, “but I didn’t have no part in killin’ her.”
“Mind if I have a have a look around?”
“What fer?”
“To see if I can find anything.”
“You got a warrant?” He grunted as the sheriff handed him a piece of paper, making a big show of looking it over even though he couldn’t read. “All right then. Common in, see’in as I ain’t got no choice.”
The sheriff stepped inside, trying not to show his revulsion at the state of the house. Walking farther inside, he poked his head into one of the bedrooms. A piece of paper caught his eye. Laying Angela’s limp body down on the unmade bed, he picked it up.
I’m sorry, Daddy, but I just can’t take it anymore. I used to think you loved me, but not anymore. I don’t see why you had to ruin my life this way. You can’t hurt me anymore. I’m with Mama now.
It took a moment for him too collect his breath. A suicide. He hadn’t killed her; he’d done something so much worse.
“I think you should see this.” But Angela’s father barely heard him. He was busy looking at the traces of lipstick and eyeliner on his daughter’s face. Five identical marks of passion on the opposite side of the bullet wound marred her neck.
“Angel,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
Gender:
Points: 890
Reviews: 2