“Alright,” he says, holding up his hands, “I’m just asking.”

  I nod.

  He knows that when he upsets Cleo—when anything upsets her, all she wants is her momma and that takes time away from him.

  And Dad sure loves being the center of my attentions, I think with a sigh as I get up from my seat and pick up Cleo. I scoot her plate down toward my chair and sit her on my lap, bouncing her gently on my knee as she resumes her nibbling.

  “I love watching you with these kids,” Dad says suddenly. I glance up at him curiously, but the smile on his face tells me that it’s rare, genuine praise.

  “Thank you,” I reply with a shy smile, to which he rests his elbow on the table, drops his chin into his hand, and nods.

  “Momma?” Cleo says, looking up at me. “I have to potty.”

  I kiss the top of her head, and tell her to put her sandwich down, before I set her onto her feet and get to mine. I hold my hand out to hers and as we begin to walk out of the room, I cast a glance over my shoulder toward Dad who’s turned his attention back to Richter and Skylar. I … I think they’ll be okay with him, especially since we won’t be gone for very long.

  Besides, I would look like an overbearing and overprotective mother taking all three children to the bathroom when only one has to go and it’ll make him damn angry to know I still don’t trust him with them.

  Maybe one day I will, but I doubt it very much.

  Once we reach the bathroom, I step in to turn the light on for her, then go back into the hallway, leaving the door slightly ajar in case she has any problems. Cleo sees herself as a big girl and I treat her accordingly by giving her little independent moments like this.

  Once she’s done, I wait a few moments for her to clean herself up and make herself decent, which I know she’s done when I hear the toilet flush.

  “Momma!” she calls out.

  I step back into the bathroom with a smile on my face as I turn the sink on for her and lift her up, cradling her in my arms so she can wash her hands all by herself. Just like a big girl, I think proudly.

  As soon as I set her down on the bathroom floor, she gives me a toothy grin, then turns to run out of the room. I don’t allow running in the house and she knows this, but I’m a lot more relaxed with Cleo because she needs it.

  I sigh and turn to walk out of the bathroom, ready to be as hot on her trail as I can be, when I see Dad standing across the hallway from me; back against the wall and arms crossed over his chest.

  The way he’s watching me turns my stomach, but I won’t deny him anything and he knows that, using the knowledge to his advantage whenever the need for his “wife” takes hold of him.

  He clicks his tongue, chuckling slightly as he moves toward me. I move as far back against the sink as I can and use my hands to steel myself against it.

  “Ever think of having another one?” he asks, his hands sliding around my waist and pulling me against him.

  “Another one?” I stammer.

  I don’t want the door open. I don’t want the children to run by and see this if he chooses this to be a moment where he wants his needs fulfilled.

  “I think we can use one more, don’t you?” His lips graze my neck and his hot breath is against my skin, sending a shiver through my body.

  “I think we’re perfect just the way we are,” I tell him, putting my hands to his chest and giving him a gentle, but firm shove back.

  Dad grunts and pulls my body back against his. He puts a hand around my throat, tilting my face to look him in the eyes. He’s inspecting me—wondering where my backbone suddenly came from, but it’s never left, and it bothers him.

  “You’d do well to remember that this is my fucking house and you need to be damn careful what you say to me, little girl,” he says gruffly, tightening his grip.

  “Yes, Daddy,” I reply quietly, closing my eyes tightly. It hurts because my body is beginning to fight for the oxygen it’s being deprived of.

  “That’s my good girl,” he says with a nod as pulls himself away from me. “Go send those kids back outside and after you’ve cleaned up the dishes, you know where to find me.”

  I’m sitting on the sill of his bedroom window watching our babies running around in the darkness. The motion lights activate each time one runs under it, dimming a few moments later, and I’m worried that they’re going to end up hurting themselves.

  As long as it’s not the way he hurts me.

  I pull a leg up to my chest, the other firmly planted on the ground to keep me steady. The sleek sweat of his sin hot against my bare flesh as I continue to watch the children down below.

  He’s sleeping quietly now that he’s used my body to reach the pleasure he’d been hinting about all day long, and it would be so easy to end him in this moment. He’d never see it coming and he’d never know that it was his dear little Darby that sent him on his way, but I don’t know how I would be able to explain such a thing to the children.

  They don’t know what I went through—what I still go through to keep them safe from his hands, and I’ll never tell them. They see their father in a way that I never could, and I don’t want to rob them of that. They love him and I can’t be the villain that takes him away from them.

  That’s just not who I am.

  I don’t mind caring for my father because there are times that even the savage beast he still tries to be needs help of some sort and I’m there for him.

  Even in stolen moments like the one we just had, I’m there to help him when he decides he has a use for me, regardless of what his need may be.

  “What the fuck?”

  I glance over at him as he sits upright in bed and glances around the darkened bedroom. His eyes are a thing of beauty, highlighted by the sliver of moonlight that catches his face and I can’t help but smile slightly.

  “I’m over here, Daddy,” I say softly to him.

  He turns his head to look at me and grunts as he pushes himself off the bed. I watch him as he reaches down and retrieves his sweatpants from the floor and pulls them up his body. He shakes his head rapidly, then runs his hands back through his wild hair, before he makes his way over to me and grins.

  “Why aren’t you in bed, Darbs?” he asks curiously.

  I turn my attention back toward the yard and nod at the children. Richter runs underneath the motion light again which lights up and I laugh.

  Cleo is covered in grass and as Skylar tosses another handful at her, she lets out a happy laugh and lifts her hands up to attempt to catch it. Richter uses that moment of their distraction to toss a handful of grass at both of them and as the girls take off after him, the lights cut out again.

  He shakes his head as he leans his back against the wall and turns his eyes toward me.

  “You really love them, don’t you?” he inquires in a somewhat mystified tone.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” he prods. His curiosity will turn into cruelty no matter what I say because that’s just the kind of man that he is.

  “Because they came from me. I knew them the moment you planted them inside of me. I felt them grow, I felt them kick, I felt their hearts beat before I could hold them—that’s a love that’s unexplainable but so amazing at the same time,” I reply softly, waiting for the harsh words that I know will soon drip from his lips like venom.

  “Huh.”

  His response is nothing like I expected it to be. He doesn’t seem to care either way, but wanted to see what I would say. It’s how he’s been most days lately and I live with it as best as I can.

  “Is there anything else you needed, Daddy?” I ask him softly, pushing my hair back behind my ear.

  He looks me up and down, his eyes taking in my naked skin as well as my bare soul, a smirk crossing his weathered lips. His licks them, pushes himself off the wall, and shakes his head.

  “Get those fucking kids back in this house, then bring your ass back to bed,” he tells me in a stern tone as he lies back down and yawns tiredly. “Maybe if you put in a better performance than that bullshit you fed me, I’ll think about you more often instead of them.”

  “Yes, Daddy,” I say softly as I get to my feet and hurry across the room. I wrap a robe around myself, secure the belt tightly around my waist and run down the stairs.

  He’s warning me about the one thing I’ve feared for so long.

  He has his eyes set on our children and I have to be better in bed to keep his hands on me so that his touch doesn’t wander further than it should.

  I grind my hips as best as I can—the way he taught me to. He showed me once the way he likes to be pleasured and even though it shouldn’t be as hard as it is, he makes it that way. He wants me to improve, he said, so that I don’t have to worry about him doing to them what he’s done to me.

  I lean down, pressing the palms of my hands firmly on his shoulders. He lets out a low moan, bares his teeth, and watches me with unbridled passion in his eyes.

  He sits up, wraps his arms around me and tells me to go faster. He’s getting close to his release—that’s the only thing Daddy ever cares about—his pleasure and not mine.

  I close my eyes as I rest my forehead against his, moving my hips faster, taking in more of his cock than I already had and whimper slightly.

  “Daddy …”

  My voice trails off as he digs his fingers into my sweaty flesh. He grips my hips as he begins to thrust up into me.

  I wrap my arms tightly around his shoulders and close my eyes. He’ll be done soon, I’ll be allowed to clean up, and then the nightmare will be over for now.

  He holds me tighter and thrusts one more time up into me. I feel his seed shoot into me, warm and grasping to plant life inside of me. I pray that it fails. We shouldn’t have anymore children—not in the world I’m forced to live in.

  He slaps my ass which is my signal to get off him, and he lets out a content sigh as he lays back down.

  “You’re getting better, Darbs. Much better,” he says in a tired tone.

  “Thank you, Daddy,” I reply as I move off the bed and get to my feet. “I’m gonna go clean up and check on the kids. I’ll bring you a glass of water, okay?”

  “Yeah, whatever,” he replies dismissively.

  I reach for my robe again and dress myself as best as I can on the way to the bathroom. I reach for a hand towel and dampen it with warm water, cleaning myself up, then tossing it into the hamper. I walk down to the children’s room and peek inside.

  I smile softly, resting my head against the cracked door. Cleo is sleeping with her favorite stuffed teddy bear in her arms, Richter is sleeping on the top bunk across the room like a big boy and Skylar is sleeping on the bottom.

  But I know those three like I know the back of my hand, and by the time morning comes, Skylar will be cuddled up with her little sister and Richter will be on the bottom bunk.

  It’s funny how they rotate the way they do, but they’re happy in their state of ignorant bliss and I intend to keep them that way.

  I close the door softly and head into the kitchen. Our house is a big home, comfortable, and very private. That’s one thing that Daddy never spared on—the need for privacy in his home.

  No one ever came to visit, and we were never allowed off the property. If groceries were needed, he would go out on his own and get them.

  Sometimes he’d be gone for days at a time and I silently found myself hoping that maybe he had a heart attack and died where he stood.

  No luck so far, I think with a sigh as I reach into the cupboard for a large glass. I walk to the refrigerator and pull out the pitcher of water, filling it almost to the brim, then setting the pitcher back inside.

  I stare at the glass for a moment, wondering if there’s something, anything, that I could possibly mix into this to end his pain and mine, but I know that I would never be able to hurt him.

  He’s my father.

  He gave me three beautiful children.

  No matter how much of a monster he seems to be, I love him with all of my heart.

  Resigning myself to the fate of another day, I carefully walk the glass back up to Daddy’s room and blink in surprise when I see him sitting up and glancing toward the window thoughtfully.

  “Here you are, Daddy,” I tell him softly as I walk the glass over to him.

  “Thanks, Darbs,” he says as he takes it without so much as a glance in my direction. He sips the water slowly, his eyes still on the world outside as he gets to his feet and walks over to the window that overlooks the oubliette.

  “You know, sometimes I wonder what shit could have been like if your Momma was still alive,” he says, setting the glass on dresser and opening the window. “She was a damn fine piece of ass, that one.”

  I cringe at his words.

  He’s never seen any of us as anything other than a means of pleasure and it’s always made me wonder if something happened to him when he was younger that made him like this.

  I never dared to ask.

  Daddy has his secrets, and what he chooses to share with me is his prerogative.

  I have none.

  I’ve tried before to keep secrets from him, but he always finds out what I’m hiding, and I’ve given up hope that I would ever have a thought of my own that he isn’t able to pluck from my thoughts.

  “You’ll be better than her in no time, kid. Keep practicing and we’ll keep getting on just fine,” he says, snapping me out of my thoughts.

  I nod, clasping my hands in front of me as he finishes his water, then nods toward the bed.

  “Let’s get some shut-eye. I’m fucking beat.”

  “I’m sorry that we didn’t get to have our sleepover last night,” I tell Cleo when the kids arrive in the kitchen for breakfast. “Maybe your daddy will let us do it tonight instead?”

  I cast him a meaningful glance as he quirks an eyebrow at me and scoffs. He shakes his head which almost sinks my heart down into my stomach, but when he waves a hand dismissively, I know that he’s letting me have one final chance with her.

  “Okay, Momma,” she replies indifferently. Dad snorts and rolls his eyes at his newspaper, and I toss my dishrag at him. I know I’ll pay for that later, but he just doesn’t want to give her a chance and it pisses me off to no end.

  I know she’s not above his reach and that he’ll do what he feels is necessary to her to keep me in line.

  Over my dead body, I think as I return his level stare.

  “That wasn’t very nice, Darbs,” he says conversationally.

  “Shit happens,” I reply lightly, using one of his favorite little terms. It’s what he tells me when I ask about Mom and her brothers. This man will never admit his fault in anything, and that’s something I’ve come to terms with.

  Dad is a stubborn old bastard, but I’m just as stubborn as he is, and I honestly think that’s why I’ve lasted as long as I have. I keep things interesting. When he thinks I’m ready to just roll over and take his shit, I throw a dishrag at his face. It goes both ways, though, because when I think he’s finally on his way out, he seems to have it in him for “one more fuck”.

  This can’t all be his fault.

  There’s no way that one day he decided to wake up and procreate with his own children, while abusing the others horribly. I’m not entirely sure I want to find out what made him into the man that he is, but I have to know if it’s something that might be stirring inside of me too, because if it is hereditary, I plan on killing it before it does harm to my babies.

  I refuse to be sick like him too.

  * * *

  Richter and Skylar are outside where Dad told them to go and he’s sitting at the kitchen table with Cleo. I know it’s taking more patience than he’s capable of to color with her, but he’s trying best—and so is she.

  Every line she comes close to crossing on the paper and with his temper, she retreats immediately and asks for his help.

  He’s humoring her for now, and I guess that’s all I can really ask for.

  “Darby?”

  “Yes?” I ask him quietly. He won’t ask me for anything I’m not supposed to provide him in front of the children, which means this will probably some kind of labor that’s too much for me to bear alone.

  Dad likes limits—physically and emotionally, but as long as those children need me, he’s going to have to do a hell of a lot more to me than he already has to break me.

  “I want you to climb down into the well today and give it a nice cleaning. Put some elbow grease into it,” he says as he reaches for the purple crayon sitting next to Cleo’s small hand.

  I wrinkle my nose at him even though he’s not looking at me.

  He’s never sent me down into the well before and the last person that …

  “Why?” I ask him evenly.

  “When did you get so damn mouthy?” he snaps back, giving me a glare. “Because I fucking said so—that’s why.”

  “No way,” I shoot back, vehemently shaking my head. You can’t get rid of me that easily. Especially when I haven’t done anything wrong, I finish to myself.

  He leans back in his chair, an amused smirk on his face. He sucks his teeth and glances down at Cleo who’s now watching the both of us curiously before he leans back down and leans his arms on the table.

  “Your Momma is a lot smarter than her Momma,” he says to her with a chuckle. “Too smart for her own good sometimes,” he continues, casting me a dangerous glare. “But she should know that I’m not entirely done with her yet, so don’t you think she should be a good girl and clean the well like Daddy asked her to?”

  Cleo shifts uncomfortably on her knees. She gives me a curious look and a frightened one to Dad when she turns her attention back to him.

  “Momma …” her voice trails off as she bites her lower lip.

  “Go outside and play with your brother and sister,” I tell her tiredly.

  “Stay where you are,” Dad counters in a stern tone. “We’re not done coloring and you may have to see what happens when someone talks back instead of doing what they’re told.”

 

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