Breaking Her

Chapter 17: Little Her (Melissa)

I just stood there and watched as Thomas walked off the beach and back towards the hotel. I wanted to say something but my lips weren't moving. I wanted to tell him to stay. I needed him because every fiber in my body didn't want to do this alone. I didn't want to be there alone. I just couldn't find the words that refused to leave my mouth. 

"Would you like me to take you to the hospital, they can provide you with an extensive checkup?," the medic kindly asked. 

He was a young man, probably in his early twenties. He was nice, really nice. "That won't be necessary, I'm feeling much better now, thank you." I turned to the right and saw Jayson talking to the officers and thought back to the nightmare I had just woken up from. A few months ago, I would have ran to him, seeking the comfort he gave me in which I heavily depended on but now, I couldn't stop thinking about Thomas. 

Thomas, who had just beat up my ex. Sixteen year old me would have been dying after seeing a man like Thomas fight for me. Although he was so fucking in the wrong, he looked so sexy doing it. He was so strong, so manly. I couldn't believe he had fought Jayson over me, if that's even what he was doing to begin with. 

Everything about the man confused me. His innuendos, his rejections, his desire but most of all his anger. I understood none of it. It was exhausting and yet so thrilling. The anger on his face when his fists were coming down on Jayson was too familiar. The anger that fueled him scared me, it reminded me of that gruesome day where I felt that same anger inside. The same anger I saw in Thomas's eyes, except mine weren't fueled by jealousy. Mine were fueled by rage.

"Happy 12th birthday baby, you ready for your gift?," I was mortified as he cupped his bulge. Daddy was vulgar like that and for a long time I thought it was normal. I thought it was how every Daddy treated their little girl.

It wasn't until I started school that I realized most Daddy's didn't look at their daughters in the way that mine looked at me. He always looked at me funny. Not in the way most Daddy's look at their little girls. He towered over me as I looked at the ground, terrified to meet his eye. 

I always dreaded my birthday. I never wanted his gifts. Nothing good ever came from Daddy and every time he would give me my birthday gift, it seemed it was more for his own benefit, his own pleasure. 

"No, thank you. I'm tired, goodnight." 

I knew he wasn't going to let me off so easily. He never did. He grabbed my face and squeezed my cheeks together, forcing my mouth open. 

"It's too early to go to bed, especially on your birthday. Let's have some fun."

I didn't continue fighting him on it. Daddy loved it when I fought back and I was in no mood to be punished on my birthday. He walked me towards my bedroom and my heart was increasing the speed of it's beats by the second. I hoped the seconds would drag on longer to avoid getting to my dreaded room. I hated everything about my room. 

Even though I was older now, he wouldn't let me redecorate. He said I would always be his little girl and a little girl needed the perfect room. My room held the same decor for twelve years. Untouched. 

As we walked towards my room, I began praying to myself. Praying I'd get through it. It was all going to be okay. He'd just touch me and leave. He'd just touch me and leave.

"Lay Down, Mel."

I hesitated but I already knew to never disobey Daddy. He relished in his punishments and they were never fun.