Sweet Baby Addy

Chapter 6.

Jace's POV

Her. Everything about her is perfect. Even seeing her cry is perfection. She needs to cry, even if it hurts a little. I so clearly remember the day she told me about life before her husband. She had a smile on her face the whole time she relayed the story, albeit in hushed tones, as if it were as simple as the weather.

She twirled around with perfect fluidity, holding this horrible conversation with me while she made a million drinks. Raped. My baby was raped by multiple men over the course of a year. She smiled. She smiled so she wouldn't cry. She apologized as she watched me cry. I couldn't contain it. What happened was awful, but that wasn't the purpose of my tears.

There was this beautiful, sweet girl, completely unable to heal. I remember walking out to my truck that day thanking god that she had a husband to love her, to keep her heart safe.

I brushed the hair from her perfect little face. She's an angel. Even now, even with her tiny snore, the occasional whimper, she was perfect. My arm fell asleep about the same time she did but I couldn't move her. She deserved to be held like this for the rest of her life. 

I remember when she disappeared from work for a while. Her coworkers wouldn't tell me what happened mostly because they only knew she was in a car accident. A few weeks went by before I saw her again. Her whole body riddled in chaos and bruises, her eyes were dead. Her husband, I soon found out, was dead too.

This memory, of course, crossed my mind just as I was about to lay her in her bed. I couldn't do it. I didn't want her to think I was going to take advantage of her, of course I wanted her, but I want her safe and relaxed far more than I want to get off.

With this war in my mind and a new resolve in the air, I laid my sweet girl in my bed. She didn't so much as flinch. I found the thickest pair of sweats I had and got in bed next to her. She quickly took up residence against my chest, in my heart, overwhelming my mind, and calming my own monsters.

"Good night sweet girl, you're safe. Daddy loves you."

Addy's POV

I need to pee. Yup, I am panicking in bed next to him. He's still completely asleep. I have that subtle panic that he expects something from me that I just can't give. Fear and anxiety soon take over so completely that I don't remember crying. I was too afraid to move. I just sat there and cried. Even as I felt warmth fill my diaper, all I could do was cry.

The man next to me woke up to me in this state. God I must be his dream come true. Maybe if I am this awful for my whole life, he will let me go.

"Oh no baby, what's wrong?" He touched me and I flinched. 

"No, no, no, I'm not them sweetheart, I'm not here to hurt you baby. I just want you safe. Daddy just wants to take care of you." He kept talking while he picked me up. He knew, without me saying a word, that my diaper was wet.

Daddy carried me to my room while I prayed that the fuzzy feeling would come quickly. I didn't want to feel embarrassed again. Even as I was thinking this, daddy started singing to me.

He sang to me all through changing me. He sang while he brushed out the braid turned dreadlock, he sang while he got me dressed. I noticed my own voice singing next to his as he walked to the kitchen with me on his hip.

Somehow, even with a happy tune in my mind, I was sad. I needed to tell him that I felt sad, I knew I did. "Daddy?" I breathed out his name like it was part sob. "I feel blue today daddy." I said it to the floor, not his face, afraid he wouldn't like me if i couldn't be happy.

Daddy lifted my face, gave me a bite of pancakes, and nodded his head. "I know baby. Daddy wants to let you be sad, it's good for you sometimes, okay?" 

I released a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Can I be in my room alone for a while?" I knew I was asking a whole lot but I needed to sort through the blues.

"Yes baby. If you want, theres an eagle and canvas in there you can paint on." My heart soared. I begged daddy to feed me faster so I could go paint all day. In my real life, I hardly went a day without painting. I'd painted my whole life and love it more than I love myself. It's how I worked out life's big stuff.

Daddy held my hand while i dragged him back to my room. Once there, I got very shy. Daddy set up the ease, filled the cup with watering turned around to see me studying my toes.

"What is it sweet girl?" He didn't know this part about me yet.

"I, um, I - I paint naked Daddy. I always have." I rushed through the statement as quickly as I could.

"Okay. Arms up!" He was lifting my shirt within seconds. I didn't have a bra on but I wasn't embarrassed. My leggings followed suit but it wasn't right. I needed to be free of all of it.

"Daddy?" I looked at him sincerely.

"No diaper?" He knew without me asking.

"If you have an accident baby, there will be punishment." He was stern but understanding.

I soared with joy, free and alone.

Paint touched the canvas, danced and layered, told the story of my heart, and I was home.