Is 'He Let Out Daughter' A Metaphor In The Novel?

Standing against the corner of the wall, her entire drenched body was shivering, both in fear and cold. Her arms were tightly wrapped around herself. Her head was downcast. "Didn't I warn you not to step out of this house without my permission?" A shiver ran down her spine, hearing that intensely rugged voice questioning her. She didn't answer, not only just because she was a mute but also because she didn't know what to answer that person before her. Her shivering turned vigorous when she heard those heavy footsteps coming closer to her. That tall sinewy figure towered her. "You know what will I do to you if I have to repeat my fucking self again," She slowly took her head upward, hearing his threat. Her teary golden brown eyes met with his icy blue ones. His words immediately reminded her what he had done to her last night. Anger and hatred brimmed up in her watery eyes, and she didn't even need to use her words to tell him that. Her tears told him the intensity of her hatred towards him after what he had done to her last night. His jaw clenched. His nefarious gaze hooded. Grabbing her fragile neck with his brawny palm, he pushed her against the wall more and hovered her. "You consider me as a monster, don't you?" Hearing him whispering those words in her ear, her heart froze in terror, realising the worst things he was capable of doing to her. He gripped her neck tightly, causing a tear to slip down from her eyes. He leaned closer to her face, causing their noses to rub against each other. "Then tonight I will really become one for you and will torment this innocence of yours, Kaya Haiden……."

Warning: 19+ only. This story contains sexual themes and psychological trauma. Emma had only one dream to escape the bottom of society and live a life that truly belonged to her. It seemed like a dream within reach, until it shattered the day she met a man named Damien her "Daddy" “Please, let me go... I didn’t do anything wrong... I just want to live... to live... to live like a human being...” Emma knelt down, her head bowed low as she sobbed and begged the man standing in front of her. The man she once respected and called “Daddy” not only showed no sympathy, but even smiled in delight. “What a pity. Your mother abandoned you, and no one else wants you. Emma, in this world, only I and I alone — love you.”

The first time I attended my girlfriend Joyce's friend gathering, after a few rounds of drinks, her male best friend pulled her onto his lap. With a cigarette dangling between his fingers, he grinned. "Call me daddy!" Instead of getting offended, Joyce leaned into him, helpless but indulgent, and said, "Daddy." I froze, scowling, but she waved me off without a care. "It's just a joke! Lucius always never cared for the rules, and everyone knows we have a father-daughter vibe, okay? Don't get it all twisted, Henry! Aren't you a man?" Lucius became even more provocative, throwing a smoke ring at me. "Yo, son-in-law! Aren't you going to bow to me? Come on, kneel and offer me a drink, and your dad's got your back!" Everyone at the table burst into laughter as they waited to see me lose my temper and make a scene. I just smiled, meeting Joyce's impatient gaze with an excited expression. "That's great! I like the way you think, so why don't you call me daddy too?"

That night was supposed to belong to Mia. She had spent a month practicing for her first piano recital. I had cooked all afternoon, set the table, and helped her into the pale blue dress Luca loved. She stood beside the piano, cheeks flushed, fingers trembling with excitement. Then Luca's phone rang. Vivienne was spiraling again. After Luca's older brother died, his widow never really came back from it. On her worst nights, she forgot the difference between the dead husband she had lost and the brother-in-law who kept showing up to save her. And Luca always showed up. Every time Vivienne broke, he left us behind. Every time he came home, he brought apologies, pretty gifts, and promises for next time. And every time, I believed him. Until that night. Before he could make another excuse, I placed the divorce papers in front of him. He signed without reading them, then touched my shoulder like he was the one being generous. "When this is over, I'll make it up to you," he said. "You, me, and Mia. The Maldives. No calls. No interruptions." Then he kissed our daughter's hair and walked out before she played a single note. What Luca didn't know was that Mia's passport was already packed. So was the little suitcase under her bed. I was done waiting for a man who only loved us when no one else needed him. This time, he could come home to an empty house.

My daughter was violated and killed, yet her death was ruled a suicide. After seven failed appeals, I kidnapped the chief prosecutor’s daughter. I tied the chief prosecutor’s daughter to an autopsy table and publicly addressed the prosecutor’s office in a live stream. “I performed the autopsy myself. My daughter didn’t kill herself. She was murdered. “I’ll give you seven chances. Release the actual evidence and name the murderer publicly. Each time a chance runs out, I’ll remove one of her body parts.” The chief prosecutor and his wife knelt on the floor. They begged me desperately to spare their daughter. “The evidence proves your daughter took her own life. Stop this madness now and let my daughter go. She’s innocent.” Viewers in the live stream called me insane. They said I had lost my mind with grief and was taking it out on an innocent person. I ignored their contempt. With a sneer, I picked up a scalpel and pressed it against the judge’s daughter’s abdomen. “The clock is ticking. Hurry up and reveal the true murderer now.” I knew perfectly well the real murderer was watching the stream at that very moment.

The classified project I was working on wrapped up ahead of schedule, so I made sure to get back on my daughter's birthday. When I walked in, a girl I had never seen before was wearing my daughter's princess dress, a crown perched on her head. She sat in front of a cake as tall as she was, eyes closed, making a wish. I frowned and stepped closer. "Who are you? Why are you wearing my daughter's dress? Where's Heidi?" Before she could answer, two housemaids rushed out and started yelling at me. "Where the hell did you come from? How dare you talk to our boss's daughter like that? If you know what's good for you, get out! When the boss gets back, you won't like what happens." I stood there, confused. Boss? The boss's daughter? In this house, wasn't it just me and my daughter, Heidi Foster? I barely had time to speak before they shoved me toward the front door. In the middle of the pushing, something caught my eye. Off to the side, chained to a pillar, was Heidi. The girl I used to hold like she was the most precious thing in the world was now sprawled on the ground, digging through a dog bowl for food. A thick iron chain was locked around her neck, and her body was covered in bruises. My vision tightened. "Heidi, what happened to you?" The moment our eyes met, her hollow gaze filled with tears. She shrank back, then let out a soft bark at me, like a frightened dog. The maids looked at her with open disgust. One of them sneered, "Our boss said that that little thing was born to live like a dog. You have to keep her chained up if you want her to behave."