(daddy's little girl) (Permanently Discontinued)

chapter three

Sitting at the table you stared down at your steak, mum was slient during dinner, not saying a word to you or mox.

Father was staring at the table, a smoke hanging from his lips as he stared at the wood.

You hated the silence, the way the air held a tense feel to it. Like a single sound could shatter reality, like a whisper could sound far louder than it should.

Cutting into your steak you watched as your father hummed in approval, cutting into his own as moxxie struggled to do so.

Reaching over to help mox out with cutting his food, your father glared down at you, a warning that later you'd get a punishment.

Leaning back, watching as moxxie frowned looking up to his mother who ignored your father's glare.

Picking up his plate she began cutting into the steak smiling down at moxxie as she finished.

Looking up at your father his eyes bore holes into you, disappointment in his gaze as he cut into his steak.
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The room was dark, the only heat being the soft glow coming from your candle.

You and moxxie had sperate beds, but preferred to sleep together.

Yous might have a big house but yous were anything but rich, which is why father told you when you and moxxie get older you'd both have to marry into a rich family.

Settling back into the sheets next to moxxie you listened to the floorboards creak and squeak with every movement.

Thoughts ran through your head as you listened to your father grumble, moving through the halls as a small set of feet stumbled behind, struggling to keep up.

Sitting up you scooted out of bed, trying to not wake mox up.

The floor was cold, the wood feeling smooth beneath your feet. Looking back at the candle you watched the flame dim slightly, it wouldn't give you much light.

Turning back to the door you slowly turned the handle peaking your head out the door.

The hallway was dark and empty, the only light being from the living room's fire place.

Stepping out of the room your nightgown touched the floorboards, covering the tips of your toes like a thin blanket.

With every step you took the floors creaked, causing you to wince.

Placing your hand against the walls you continued towards the living room, your hand going over the small decorations on the wall.

Your family had always fasanatied you, with their bright red skin and white splotches that speckled it. They're horns different shapes and sizes, some with hoofs for feet much like your mother.

But you looked nothing like them. Being so much smaller than your mother or father you bore no resemblance to them. You didn't have red skin or white splotches decorating some parts of your body.

You didn't have white or black horns atop your head, you didn't have hoofs or claws.

Instead you had soft skin that could bruise easily, and your feet were soft on the bottom, and the only thing atop your head was just soft, long-ish hair.

Your mother enjoyed decorating it with bows and little hair clips that she had.

Your father however had other ideas, he preferred to dress you up in suits and dress's of all types. Including giving you new guns for every outfit.

You sighed in contentment, the carpet beneath your feet soothed the cold spots on your little toes, and the glow coming from the fireplace was welcoming, the warmth filled your body warming you up.

Walking through the living room you clambered up onto your father's seat. Nuzzling further into the warmth.

Crimson groaned setting up staring at the wall. The room was unbelievably chilly, and his 'wife' had most of the blankets.

Standing up he shuffled towards the door, opening the door not caring if it made a lot of noise.

It was no wonder moxxie slept with you, but still as a young lady and a young man it was unacceptable, much like his 'wife's' behavior.

Moving past yours and moxxie's room, his slippers barely made a noise. Taking notice of your room the door was cracked open only a smidge.

Turning back to the hallway he made his way to his favorite seat. Only to find a sneaky little princess curled up against the cushion.

Sighing he leaned down and scooped you up in his arms, you both could share this chair.

Getting into it he leaned back, laying you on his chest, wincing.

The cut on his chest had finally gone numb but not completely, his 'wife' had done enough damage to both him and his pride.

He didn't even know she had a knife hidden away.

All he wanted to do, was try and get along. Not for moxxie or for her. But for you, he knew how you longed to. Belong to a nice, normal, functioning family.

But she just she to be a bitch. This is why they agrue half the time, she was just being difficult for the sake of being difficult.

But with you, he could forget all his worries, all his pain, all his fears, and be the father he always wanted to be.

Word count 874