Is It Wrong I Want Daddy So Bad?
“I don’t know how,” I whispered. “Can you show me? Please, daddy.”
He should have said no.
Instead, he said, “Lie back and open those pretty legs. Let daddy take care of that for you.”
When I shattered all over his fingers he looked at me like I was the most devastating thing he’d ever seen and said, “That’s my sweet girl.” Three days later he put me on a plane to London and didn’t look back.
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She has spent three years across an ocean trying to unlearn her Stepfather; his voice, his hands, the way he said her name like it cost him something. She almost managed it.
Then he called to say he was getting married again and he needed her home.
Now she’s back in Boston, sleeping under his roof, watching him plan a future with someone else, and pretending she doesn’t still want him the way she did at nineteen. He is doing the same, pretending. Controlling. Building walls and calling it protection.
But three years haven’t changed what’s between them. If anything, the distance made it worse.
He sent her away once to save her from him.
This time, she isn’t leaving.
Some things are wrong in every way that matters, and still impossible to stop.