Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for mature content.
(A/N: Trigger Warning! This story deals with serious sexual abuse. It is not, in any way meant to promote, encourage, condone, approve, or make light of abuse in any shape or form. If you or anyone you know is being sexually abused, call the National Sexual Assault Hotline at 1-(800)-656-4673 or the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-(800)-799-7233.)
Her first time was in a hotel room.
They’d gone away on a trip, just the two of them, and she’d been so excited. They’d spent the whole day at the amusement park, and she’d been so happy-- she hadn’t been able to spend much time with him lately.
They went on every roller coaster-- some of them twice-- and he’d held her hand the whole time. She’d never felt more treasured.
“Thank you so much,” she’d told him on the shuttle ride back to the parking lot, “This was the best day ever!” Then she’d stretched upward and kissed his cheek. “I love you sooooooo much!”
“I love you too,” he’d said, smiling.
She’d jabbered his ear off the entire car ride to the hotel. She’d talked about how jealous all of her friends were that she’d gotten to go on this trip with him. She’d spent several minutes trying to come up with a name for the giant stuffed bear he’d won for her at one of the carnival booths. And she’d told him she loved him more than anyone else in the entire universe.
By the time they got to the hotel, she’d been so exhausted he’d had to carry her up to their room.
She’d woken up an hour or two later to find his arm wrapped around her, holding her close. She’d rolled over and seen him looking at her with an expression she didn’t quite understand.
“Hey sleepyhead,” he’d said as she hugged him. It was only then that she’d realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt.
It wasn’t as if she’d never seen him shirtless, but she’d never been hugging him at the time. She’d suddenly felt awkward and let go, moving out of his arms.
“What’s wrong,” he’d asked, confused.
“You’re not wearing a shirt,” she’d said, matter-of-factly. “How come?”
“It’s more comfortable sleeping this way,” had come his repy. “Why don’t you try?”
Hesitantly, she’d pulled off her dress. He’d been right-- the cool air did feel good on her skin. He’d given her another incomprehensible look, flipped the lightswitch on the table beside him, and hugged her again.
“Is this okay?” he’d asked.
Years later, she would look back and see this moment as the turning point. She’d remember every detail-- the darkness that made it impossible to read his face properly, the gentle sound of his voice, her desire to make him happy-- and wonder what would have happened if she had done things differently. If she had said no, would that have been the end of it? Would he have accepted it and gone back to the other bed? Would anything have changed?
But she didn’t say no. She didn’t say no when he’d pulled off his pants. She didn’t say no when he carefully brushed her hair off her shoulder and kissed her there. She didn’t say no to anything he asked her that night, and ask he did. “Is this okay?” he’d asked as he ran his fingers down her stomach. “Is this okay?” he’d asked as he shifted positions so she was directly beneath him.
And she’d said yes. Every time he’d asked, she’d said yes. She’d loved him so much, and she’d trusted him more than anyone else. If this was what he wanted, then of course she would say yes.
They’d cuddled before, of course, and she’d fallen asleep in his arms more times than she could possibly count. But never anything like this.
Suddenly, she’d felt a jolting pain and cried out.
“I’m sorry,” he’d said, “Are you okay?” She’d nodded, too weak to verbally respond. He’d been okay, and so would she.
When it was finally over, he’d pulled his pants back on, hugged her again, and whispered “I love you” in her ear.
She fell slept curled up in his arms.
Her first time was in a hotel room, and she’d never felt more loved.
“I love you too, Daddy,” she mumbled as she fell asleep.
She was six years old.