Page 38 of Wicked Nasty

But then Danny speaks that name - that name that only one person has ever called me. Suddenly, all traces of arousal disappear. My heart is cold once again.

I rush to grab my clothes, trying to rush out of his room.

Danny tries to stop me but reacting on instinct, I grip that soft bit of skin between his shoulder and neck, forcing him to the ground.

"Don't ever call me that name again. Ever," I hiss before storming out of the room.

I barrel into my bathroom, turning the shower to its hottest setting. And in the safety of the titled walls, I let myself cry.

Cry in a mixture of confusion, regret, and anger.

How did it come to this?

What had I done?

The scorching water sears my skin like a branding iron, but I grit my teeth and welcome the searing pain, a small act of rebellion against the pleasure that Danny had once given me.

As I stand there, tears mixing with the hot liquid, I can't help but wonder if this fleeting moment of ecstasy is truly worth the inevitable agony that will follow.

The water cools and turns lukewarm and I step out of the shower, feeling raw and exposed. Wrapping myself in a towel, trying to shield my body from the harsh reality of what had just happened. But even as I struggle to dry off and dress myself in a daze, I can feel my mind shutting down from exhaustion and emotional turmoil.

Every limb feels heavy, every thought a burden. My body throbs with aches and bruises, a physical manifestation of the chaos inside my head. Yet despite it all, I can't stop thinking about Katya–how different everything would be if she was still here. And as I finally collapse onto my bed, exhausted in every sense of the word,

Danny's voice echoes cruelly in my mind...

"What have you done, butterfly?"

Thenextmorning,asI’m in the parking lot at school, my dad appears with a solemn look on his face. He hands me a stack of letters, and I can’t help but furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

“What is this?” I ask, flipping through the envelopes.

“Letters… from Katya.”

I feel sick to my stomach as my fingers wrap around the stack of envelopes.

“Are you serious?”

My dad nods, his expression unreadable. “Your mother has been keeping them from you.”

“And you're okay with this?” Trying to keep my voice steady despite the hurt and betrayal washing over me.

Dad just shrugs, as if it was no big deal. “It is what it is.”

I take a deep breath to calm myself before asking the question that has always weighed heavily on my mind.

“Why did you have me?” I blurt out, unable to hold back the tears any longer. “Why did you say yes to having me if mom was never going to love me? If you were going to just pull away from me like this?”

Once again, my dad's response is nonchalant and lacking in emotion. “Social obligations. There is…” He clears his throat. “Do you need money?”

“No, dad. I just need that dad who loved me when I was little.”

I look up to see a small tear forming in his eye. “Very well then. Call me if you get into any financial binds.”

He taps me on the arm before walking away. I watch him go with a mix of resentment and sadness bubbling up inside of me.

Where is the dad that would spin me in the air? Pick me up early from school when he comes home? Would sneak me out for ice cream or stay up late watching my moves?

He's been like a different person ever since Katya left our home. This robot of a man has taken my dad’s place.

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