He Likes Boys//It (2017)

n i n e t e e n

Chapter Nineteen:

"Beverly?" Her father called from the kitchen when he heard the door creak open and the alarm make a short beeping sound to indicate that someone had just entered. "Is that you?" He ask.

Beverly trembled as she walked, trying not yo let her father see the way he was destroying her. She knew that he liked to see her destroyed like this. He liked to see her unravel and cry before his feet, otherwise he wouldn't do it so often. Otherwise he wouldn't have tried so hard to tear apart every single thing about her, he wouldn't call her a little girl and then continue to tear away everything that made her a little girl.

She wanted her innocence back. She wanted to be free from her father's clutches, she wanted to stop being a caged bird and start flying far away. Somewhere so far he would never be able to get to her and pull her back down, because nowadays, whenever she tried to fly there was always something weighting her down. There was always something stopping her from flying.

But Beverly's wings were not yet clipped, and for her there was still hope. One day she would soar high up in the skies, although her father didn't see this. He was blinded to the future, having committed acts so heartless that the guilt drove him nearly to insanity. He only thought of ways to cover up his tracks, nothing more, nothing less, would ever cross his mind when it came to these sorts of things.

"Y-yes." Beverly spoke. "I'm home. Am I late?" She tried to act casual, pretending that everything was normal. That they were a normal family, and these were the things they normally did.

The truth was that Beverly wasn't even sure what normal meant anymore.

Her father shook his head. "No. You're not late. Just in time for dinner in fact." He put down a plump chicken on the table and smiled at his daughter. It was clear he was making her uneasy. He didn't know how to get what he wanted, but whenever he didn't get something he wanted he had the tendency to simply take it.

He would do it after dinner, he decided.

He watched as she ate, digging into the chicken. A hardness grew in his pants at the thought of what he intended to do with her.

In his opinion it was nothing too bad. It wasn't like he ever actually put his dick in her. He just touched her. Touched her still sweet young body. She was still tight for him. Someday he would. Someday.

Beverly ate quickly. She knew what was coming, but she thought that maybe if she locked herself in her room she could escape it. He'd attacked her there too. He did these things to her all the time, but there were some times when he didn't. There were some times when he was the normal father she wished she had. There were some times when he was good, when he was normal, when he wasn't any girl's worst nightmare.

And then there were the times when he was.

There were the times when he would come into her room in the middle of the night, and press against her, laying with her in bed until the morning, when she would have barely slept and her pillow was left tear stained.

There were the times when he did it right as she got home from school, touching her quickly, touching himself, making her touch him sometimes. Anything to get him off, as though she was some sort of pet to him. As though she wasn't an actual person.

It made her body feel filthy and defiled, as though it didn't belong to her, but rather it belonged to him. She belonged to him. She tried to find some sort of justifiable reason as to why he would do all this. She tried to find some sort of remnants of an actual father left in him, but every time he touched her the more she doubted that things could ever be the same again. That there could ever be that childlike innocence there once was in her. Technically she was still a child. She should still be aloud to be a kid and do kid things.

But it was too late.

He had already killed the kid in her.

"Come here Beverly." He father beckoned from the other side of the table.

He patted his lap, as though he actually expected her to sit down. After everything he had already done to destroy her, he still expected there to be something of a child left in her.

She tried not to cry and she pushed her chair away from the table standing up. She had taken this so many times before. She could take this again. She could keep taking this until she was finally able to get a job and leave this home, as though she could even call it that. Then she would never have to deal with something like this ever again. She would never have to feel his hot touch ever again. She would rebuild a new life for herself. She would rebuild a new body. A new body that didn't feel so filthy inside and out.

As she sat down on his lap she felt his hardness digging into her thigh. She didn't say anything. She couldn't say anything, unless she wanted to sound on the verge on tears.

Slowly his hand snaked up, pushing hard down against her mouth, willing her not to make a sound, gagging her so that she had no voice with which to call for help with.

Still she refused to let the tears come. She knew that would only turn him on even more. She didn't want to give him the pleasure of seeing his little girl cry for him.

Slowly, he reached his other hand up her dress, and touched.

But she wouldn't let him. She refused.

She struggled against her father, fighting a pointless fight. He grabbed her anyway. Touched her anyway. He held her down so hard she began to be bruised.

And when he was done he whipped her for disobeying.