I'd Keep Her Bound: A Dark Romance

7 Safana

With Daddy gone on his trip. I have plenty of time to snoop around.
I bolt upstairs with excitement.
Unlocking the attic door, I step inside and find,
almost nothing.
The attic is cleaned up and organized, unlike yesterday. Did he really just do all of this this morning? It feels like a big fuck you. Even though I know he has no idea I planned to come in here. I hope. I mean surely if he knew he would punish me or something. Not play fucking mind games.
Anyway, I look everywhere for the box I was reading from yesterday but can't find anything. The only thing I see are a few photos of me and mom.
Shit.
Where did he put it!?
Getting on my knees, I crawl to every box on the floor and rummage through them like a maniac.
Nothing, nada, zilch.
Fuck.
I roll onto the floor, lye down and sulk to myself. Closing my eyes, I can feel -
I'm not quite sure what I'm feeling, but it doesn't feel good at all. I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling.
A small loft at the top of the room with a box labeled, Nadia.
Bingo.
But how the fuck am I supposed to reach it!?  I'm sure it's not meant for me to. But now I'm invested.
In a haste, I look for the wooden ladder that's usually in the corner of the attic.
It's gone.
I grab the wooden chair and tug it over to stand just underneath the loft. Standing ontop, I attempt to reach the box but I'm still a few inches short.
Looking around the room, I find a bookcase. Rushing over to the books, I stack them one by one ontop of the chair until I have a tall pile.
Using the wall for support, I lift up and stand ontop off the books. The rocking chair slides backwards slightly, and I almost loose my balance.
I reach as high as I can on my tippy toes and knock the box gently forward just before I come craving to the ground. Piles off heavy books fall on my back and the hardcover edges poke me in my skin.
I pull myself up and dust the dirt of my  Daddy's T-shirt . Looking up, I see that the box is hanging off the edge of the loft, but not enough to come tumbling down.
I kick away the books and push the chair against the wall. Then I open the attic window and grab a tree limb from the oak tree that sits in front of it.
Slamming the window shut, I stroll back to the box, stretch out yhe thick stick, and use all of my might to  slide it off the ledge. It down like lightning, and before I know it I'm on the ground whimpering with an insanilarge box on my lap
Shifting it off my legs, a thrill rushes over me as to what I might find inside. Daddy will be gone for a bit. So I have plenty of time to be nosy.
To be honest, I wasn't quite sure what compelled me to be so nosy. The letter from Daddy to Mom felt so cold. Just the thought of it makes my hold body flare up inside.
Daddy telling me how beautiful I am just like my mother, puts a sour taste in my mouth. I want to be beautiful in my own right. Not in comparison. I want to be my Daddy's everything. Not the stand by.
Is this all that I am?
He keeps giving me mixed signals. The way he looks at me, caresses my body so tender.
Is he lonely? Or does he really care?
Since forever he's done a great job just making me feel like a hot piece of legs. And I want to be. But I want to be so much more to him.
I want to be here, in this house, as his little pet, doing whatever he tells me to do. Just the thought of that makes my little heart sing. Letting him use me whenever he wants and never having to leave this house for anything unless my Daddy is a long side of me.
I want every thought of my mother to become a distant memory to him, at least the bits of passion they had. So the thought of finding a letter so cold, so heartless from him, makes my body beat up with excitement.
Digging through the goods, I find the old letter once more.
Dear Nadia,
Fuck you.
Rig
My eyes linger on the note, retrasing each word over and over and over again. The harsh words ring in my ears.
Looking to find another letter, perhaps that would explain the tension, I bury my hands deep into the bottom of the box. I feel a piece of what feels like metal brush up against my fingertips. I reach and grab it. It's a ring.
This ring looks an awful lot like the one I'm wearing on my pinky. The one I found in the snow.
I slide off the ring on my finger and compare the two. The one from the box is larger. I bring it up close to my eyes and inspect the inside. It says Rig and a date. A few years before I was born.
Looking inside the ring I found, it has the same date but the name is somewhat faded. The first letters are completely faded, but the last two end in I and A.
Could it be?
That Rig and my mom had been married? And before I was born? And if not, who was he married to?
I keep sifting through the box and find an old leather journal. I open in up and blow the dust into a sprinkling. It's my mother's handwriting.
Rig,
Words cannot describe the joy that wells up inside of me, knowing that this is the day we will finally wed. Nothing would make me happier than to give you your dream of having a family someday.
Nadia
Holy shit.
When mom said that they were "old friends" she really meant it. Flipping to the center of the journal I look for more.
Dear diary,
I had the most wonderful time with Malcom last night. The way he held me close in his arms and told me loads of sweet things I hadnt heard in years. The way he caresses my body, it's absolutely remarkable.
We made sushi and danced in the living room to his old record player. He slid one hand up on my breast and gazed at me with serious eyes. The words, "I love you," gently flow from the top of his lips and he plants a kiss upon my forehead.
We shared a passionate kiss with our tongues and went back to his room. The sex was incredible.
Who the fuck is Malcom? I earnestly flip through the pages of the old tattered book to see if I can find anything else.
Dear diary,
I'm pregnant. I can't believe it. All I feel is complete and utter sadness.
A rush of discomfort comes over me and I slam the book shut. Sadness? How could she feel sadness about me? Shouldn't a child be the greatest joy of any parent?
I feel quite uneasy, so I head downstairs to grab a drink. I open the fridge and the cool air brushes against my skin giving me chills. Reaching inside, I grab a jug of apple juice. And I grab a glass from the cabinet. I add in the ice in a trance as I continue to ponder her words.
Complete and utter sadness.
Nearly over pouring my glass, I pop back on the lid and put the jug back in the fridge. Then I hurry back upstairs.
I sit in front of the journal once more. All I wanted was some dirt on my mom's relationship with Daddy. Instead, I'm left with the knowledge that she never wanted me.
After gulping down a sip of juice, I take a deep breath and think,
Maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe she was young or something, maybe it just wasn't the right time.
Opening up the journal again, I continue.
I never wanted a baby. My life is ruined. I had so many plans and aspirations.
But I can't get rid of it.
I wince.
Rig found my test in the bathroom and he's so overjoyed. I didn't have the strength to tell him the baby' isn't his.
I sit in silence for a moment and listen to the tree leaves rustle against the window. I don't know what to think. Complete rage wells up inside of me, both for my mom and Malcom.
If he was such a great guy, why wasn't he in my life? Did mom ever tell him I was his? I have so many questions.
Daddy came back for me after all those years. He's the man that stepped up for me. How could my mom ever betray him?
Flipping further towards the end of the book, I find much more recent entry.
Dear diary,
Another day in a miserable life as mine. Safana is growing up every day, but the amount of work that goes into being a parent isn't minimizing. It's only turning to new works . I love her, but I resent her everyday. The jealousy raging inside of me feels so hard to control as I watch her taking my place in this world. Eating my food, and having my beauty. I hate her for it.
Warm salty liquid runs from my eyes to my lips and I nearly choke on my breath. Staring blankly at the page my tears soak the page. I roll onto my stomach and sob with remorse.
After a few hours of sleep, I wake up on the hardwood dloor of rhe attjc and am remimded of the huge mess I'd made. I clean up the letters and notes I found and place them back into the box. Lifting up the large box with two hands I push it back onto the loft ledge, barely enough to get it over. Then I use the wooden stick to push it back. Good as new. Daddy won't know that I found it.
Finally, I take the books spread out across the floor and place them back onto the shelves. Then I drag the wooden chair back to the corner.
Peaking out the window, the sun is rising. I must've stayed up all night reading those letters. Grabbing my watery apple juice I head downstairs and discard it in the sink. Then I crawl into my cage with a stuffy.
Daddy will be back soon. This will all go away. I tell myself.
***