Daddy's Love

Chapter Four

I heard the door of my room open. My heart skipped a beat for a moment, but then I remembered that I lived with a mother who doesn't even bother to respect my boundaries in my own home.

I didn't want to open my eyes. I didn't want to have to see her. If I saw her, then the images of yesterday would resurface in my mind. Never mind, they already are – going into my apartment, hearing a female voice moaning, going into my mother's bedroom, seeing her naked with that random man. I really wish I could erase yesterday from my memory and go live my life as if that had never happened.

"'Wake up, dipshit,'" she said. "'You're meeting someone today. I want this place clean for our guest.'" I regretted ever being born as I knew who she was talking about. I know who I was ready to meet today. I pretended that I was asleep, but I could tell that she knew I had heard and understood her quite clearly as I heard her closing the door like it was the Big Bang.

I got up from my bed and went into the bathroom to take a shower. It was only then that I realized I was still in my outdoor clothes. I took a look at the mirror in front of me, and I could see a zombie staring back at me. My eyes were bloodshot red, and my eyebags made me look like a panda – if only I could say that in a cute sense.

I undressed, and I took a look at my body's reflection. When I was younger, my dad used to whip me with his belt. Usually, that doesn't open wounds, but it's different when it's on bare skin. The scars on my legs will forever remind me of the physical trauma he inflicted on my naked legs during the years. He always liked the legs more – no one could see the suffering I was going through at home. Hands and face – that was different. He never went for those two places.

My legs got weak from just thinking about my childhood. I needed to distract myself, so I hopped in the shower and turned on the water. Usually, normal people shower with hot water, but not me – I preferred the cold one. It somehow made my anxiety vanish, even if it was for a little while. It was relaxing, and it made me stronger and more resilient.

I took my time there, thinking about what was in the day to come. I hate talking to people. The fact that I was going to have to meet my new daddy was not pleasant. It didn't make things easier. I already hated that guy. I wasn't even going to pretend to like him. Having to let him into my house was stressful enough.

Usually, I'd be glad that it's Saturday, as I'd get to spend the day at home cleaning after Emilia Hammington, but today I really wish I had to go to work. Maybe an emergency would come up, and I'd have to go.

After 15 long minutes of showering with cold water, I was sure I was going to be sick, but it didn't matter. I got out, put a towel around my waist, and went into my room to dress up. I put on a black hoodie and some black trousers – the color suits my lifelong mood. I took a look at the mirror in my bathroom, and the cold water had really freshened me up – both physically and emotionally. My eyebags were somewhat gone, and my nerves weren't as frayed.

I left my room, and wow, was I surprised. Everything was stunningly clean. My mother, for the first time in her life, had put effort into something. Something that she deemed as 'work only for maids too'. The entire house was squeaky clean. I wonder how she even managed to get that, considering how useless she is. How did I not notice that before and after the shower?

"Wow. Someone decided to be useful for the first time?" I said, unbothered.

"What did you say to me, you little shit?" she spat back at me like the snake she is.

"Nothing." You might think that I'm stupid for letting her treat me that way. For planning to clean the house for her and her new boyfriend – but I don't know what else to do. I've lived my whole life as my parents' slave, and I still do. I don't know what or how to do otherwise.