“Because I need you here tonight.”
My heart thumped wildly. “Okay. What do you need?”
He yanked me over to the couch in the living room. “Take off your clothes.”
I jolted backward. “What?”
“You heard me. Take off your clothes. You’re beautiful. Let me see that body of yours.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “No. I won’t.”
I scrambled away, but he caught me again and then dragged me into his bedroom. I wrenched away, but he grabbed me and turned me around to face him.
“Come here. Show Daddy how much you love him.” His grasp was firm. “Now take off those clothes.”
“I won’t!”
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
“Are you crazy? I’m your daughter!”
“Makes no difference. Let me see that body.”
I gathered every ounce of strength and ran toward the door, but again he caught me.
“You asked for it now.” He punched me in the cheek, and a dull thud echoed in the room.
For a second, nothing happened, and then the pain hit. I cried out.
“Scream. Go ahead and scream. It’s better that way,” he said, an evil gleam in his eye.
I made a deal with myself at that moment. I would not scream again, no matter what he did to me.
“You’re a slut, just like your slut mother. She wasn’t good for anything but a fuck. A one-nighter that went wrong, and now I’m saddled with you.”
My heart thrummed wildly and ice filled my veins as fear overtook me. “You don’t have to be. I’ll leave. I’ll never bother you again.” And I meant those words, for now I knew who and what my father truly was.
“Not yet. Not until I see what you have to offer. You’re a pretty thing, with your mother’s fair skin. My dark hair. And you don’t mind showing off that tight little body in those belly tops and tight jeans you wear. What do you expect?”
“I don’t expect my own father to rape me!”
He grabbed me and tossed me onto the bed. “Well, little daughter, rarely in this life do we get what we expect.”
He fell down on me, and something hard nudged my belly.
God. Him. His penis. He was hard for me.
Acid bubbled in my stomach and meandered up my throat. I turned my head and retched, but nothing came up.
He punched me again.
“You throw up, and I’ll make this worse.”
As if in answer, I heaved again and vomited onto his bed.
“Bitch!” He punched me again and then shook me. Then he ripped my shirt off me. “Pretty nice tits,” he said, eyeing me.
I closed my eyes. Maybe I could escape into my mind. Think of something else.