Page 43 of Do It For Me
The sound of the door closing echoes in the silence. I shove my father away and bolt toward the kitchen. Grabbing a knife, I turn around and point it at him.
“Don’t touch me!” I hiss. “I’ll tell Dante.”
He crosses his arms and lets out a cold laugh.
“You don’t want to do that,püppchen.”
“I don’t, but you’re leaving me no choice!”
He sighs and reaches for something at his belt.
A gun.
He points it at me, and panic floods my veins.
“Don’t be stupid, child,” he says. “Put that down.”
“No!”
He shoots at my arm. Blood drains from my face. The knife slips from my hand as he strides closer to me. Grabbing a fistful of my hair, he presses the point of the gun under my chin.
I’m going to die.
This is it.
“Don’t you see what I’ve done for you, you fucking bitch?”
But I won’t give up. I don’t care anymore.
“You can’t kill me. Dante will know it was you.”
Anger flashes in his eyes. “Dante can’t help you,püppchen. He won’t. You’re as stupid as your mother if you think someone will ever love you.”
He hits my head with the gun and pulls my hair, dragging me toward my room. Inside, he shoves me onto the bed and slamsthe door shut. I scramble toward the bathroom, but before I can close the door, he yanks my hair again and slams me against the bathtub. He seizes the moment to straddle my body, pinning my hands above my head. His weight crushes me, and his other hand wraps tightly around my neck.
“You’re a fucking whore, just like your mother,” he hisses. “You can’t keep your fucking legs closed, can you?”
My nails claw weakly at his hand in a desperate attempt to push him away.
“Da…ddy—”
“Shut the fuck up. Tara was the only one who could do whatever she wanted.” He grinds himself against me. “Perhaps I should change my little plaything.”
My vision blurs and darkens.
Dante must know. He has to help me.
My father lets go, and I gasp for air, but the relief doesn’t last. He pulls my shirt up and ties my wrists with it.
Terror floods my veins.
He can’t do this. He told me he wouldn’t.
He touches, licks, and bites wherever he wants. I scream, but not for help. It’s useless to scream for help. My mum can’t know, and Dante’s gone.
This is it for me. It’s over.
He pulls my trousers down. I try to fight back, but he points the gun at me and says he’ll kill me if I don’t stay still. Tears pour from my eyes as he strips me naked. The floor is cold. He does the same thing over and over again, and I cry and scream, begging for him to stop.
