CHAPTER NINTEY-TWO

VIOLET POV

This room is a fairytale paradise.

      My heart hurts. It actually hurts.

      I’m so jealous of the life West must have had, but mainly I’m grateful I get to enjoy it, even if it’s just for one little night.

      I sit at her dressing table and use her pretty mirror. I pull down her dolls from the shelf one by one and brush their hair with her cute little princess comb. I look in all the rooms of her princess castle.

I wish I’d have had even one of these beautiful toys growing up.

      I wish I'd had sugar and spice and all the nice toys and messages written above my bed.

      But most of all I wish I’d had a dad like Spencer.

    West must’ve been so lucky.

      I wonder how many times she played with the cute little Alice in Wonderland tea set at the bottom of the bed, whether she rode her rocking horse every single day or just took it for granted and left it sitting untouched. I wonder how long she’s been gone from here. How old she is. What she looks like.

      I snoop around a bit, but can’t find any photographs of her.

      There’s one drawing, pinned behind the door. Nothing but a scribble really, a scribbled man with a smiley face.

      DaDDy.

      She must have been young when she drew that. Much too young to fit into the dressing gown I’m wearing.

      My heart thumps in gratitude for her daddy. He saved me. Rescued me and gave me a birthday cake, kept me warm and dry and safe.

      I hope he knows how grateful I am.

Maybe when I’m home I can offer him dinner, just something small, a little something to say thank you. Maybe I could cook for him. For us. Something nice…

      The thought of Spencer being in my house is like an ice water bath. Spencer definitely wouldn’t belong there, amongst the cracked kitchen tiles and the fridge that doesn’t really shut properly, not unless you kick it. Spencer is opulent and stylish and classy. Spencer is… Perfect.

      My tummy flutters.

    Spencer is perfect.

      I turn on the little white lamp on the bedside table and take off my dressing gown, feeling strangely young myself, naked in this little girl’s room. I hang the dressing gown on the back of the door by the DaDDy picture.

      I climb into West’s bed and stare up at the ceiling, while I think about her lying here and knowing her daddy is just along the corridor, ready to keep her safe this day and tomorrow and the next day, and every single day until she’s all grown up.

      I wish that could have been me.

      I think about Spencer’s firm grip on my arm when he rescued me from the road. I heard his voice as he told that horrible man to leave me alone. He was so strong, so powerful…

      I think about his hand gripping mine.

I think about his hands…

 I don’t usually touch myself. Just every now and again, every so often. Maggie Connor laughs at me, says I’m a stupid prude because I’ve never even used a vibrator.

   How can you never have used a vibrator? Christ, Violet, you’re such a little kid!

      I remember how she laughed when I told her I’d never used a tampon, only towels. I remember how horrified she’d looked when I told her I’d never put my fingers inside myself.

      How can you not?! How can you even survive without sex, Violet?!

      I survive just fine. I don’t usually even think about it that much. I’m too busy with college, and keeping the house clean, and planning a future. Some kind of future.

      I’m too busy trying to be a grown up, because my mother is pretty much incapable of being one. Always has been.

      That’s what I didn’t tell Spencer, when he asked why childcare. It’s because it’s the only time I’m really happy, when I can disappear into a magical imaginary world with children and live there with them for a little while. When I can forget I’m a big girl who has to clean up after her mother because her mother’s never been much of one for taking care of herself. When I can forget that I spent my evenings after school trying to cook myself dinner and do my homework and tidy the house up.

      When I can forget about the noises coming through the wall from my mum’s room every night and how they made me feel.

      I sigh and it sounds loud in the room.

      That should have been my birthday wish. I wish I could live here forever.

      I think about it. Living here. Being West Douglas. And the thought makes me smile.

      I think about Spencer being my daddy, and making my breakfast in the morning and ruffling my hair.

      I think about Spencer holding my hand and telling me I’m a good girl. Kissing me on the head.

      Kissing me.

      I think about Spencer’s mouth.

      His big hands.

      I think about him touching me.

      I think about him making the noises I heard through my bedroom wall.

      I think about how it would feel. If it would hurt.

      I rub my clit and it feels so naughty, touching myself in his daughter’s bed while he sleeps down the corridor. It feels naughty and wrong, and maybe it’s the combination of adrenaline and relief, but I can’t stop, not even when I hear footsteps on the landing and realise he’s not asleep. Not even when I reach that place where I breathe so quickly I make little gasps, and my heart races, and my toes curl.

      My breath is so loud when it’s over.

      I roll onto my side and pull my knees to my chest and realise that West’s bed creaks.

      I convince myself that Spencer definitely won’t have heard me. Definitely not, no way. Not one little chance. Not even one.

      Until I hear his footsteps move away from the bedroom door.

      Oh shit.