Again, I ignore him as I hold the toothbrush under the warm water, then lift my eyes to the mirror and begin to scrub my teeth.

  Dad continues to thrust his fingers in and out of me as he lifts his eyes to mine in the reflective glass. A small smile begins to curl the edge of his lips. He knows. He can see it in my carefully bland face that I’m doing my best to defy him, and I know that this won’t last for much longer.

  He clears his throat as he rests his chin on top of my head, his fingers now dormant inside of me.

  The look in his eyes can be likened to amusement, but I know better. Nothing “amuses” him, especially not when it comes to his children.

  But Dad is patient—he always has been. It’s something that I’ve come to realize when I was able to understand what my new role was in this house. When I took Jocelyn’s place in his bed, how he trained me to do it just how he likes it. He may be an angry man a lot more than usual, but he’s patient and that’s one of the many reasons I fear for the safety my children.

  I grunt slightly when he finally removes his fingers and do my best not to cringe when he sucks them dry. He takes a step back, his hands now on my hips and cocks his head around mine, to kiss me on the cheek.

  “Guess you’re not in the mood,” he begins conversationally. “I’ll have to see who else in this house might be willing to show good ole Daddy some love then.”

  All of the small hairs on my body stand up and I meet his gaze in the mirror. This is what he does when I don’t want to play wife—he threatens me with the kids because he knows I’ll do anything to keep them away from his static touch.

  I make quick work of the rest of the scrubbing and wash my mouth out. Once I’ve shut off the water, I turn around to face him, and let my towel drop to the bathroom floor in a damp heap.

  “I’m ready now,” I submit quietly.

  My eyes lower to the floor. A day in the oubliette did nothing to stave his desires and even though I haven’t properly had time to rest yet, I have to do this.

  Dad leans down and places his forehead against mine. I can feel his breath hot against my skin and I close my eyes.

  “I love you, Darbs,” he whispers.

  “I know, Daddy,” I reply quietly.

  “No. You don’t.”

  He uses the tip of his fingers to raise my chin and I open my eyes. I almost take a step back. There’s something different in his eyes now. There’s no anger, no rage, no malcontent.

  It’s not something that I’ve ever seen before, so I’m not quite sure what it is.

  He clears his throat and looks away for a moment, before blowing out his breath and raking a hand back through his hair.

  “I never loved any of the other ones. The wives, the kids—hell, I don’t think I even loved my mother. But you … you’re special, kid. You make me feel the way they all should have, and I wonder sometimes …” his voice trails off as he raises his eyes back toward me.

  “What’s that, Daddy?” I ask as I wrap my arms around myself.

  “I wonder if I had you first, if none of this would have ever happened,” he explains with a dry chuckle. “You love me. Honestly and truly love me—I can feel it. Jocelyn never did, neither did those waste of sperm brothers of hers. Laura was worthless, and Taylee—my mother … that bitch was loonier than a fucking toon. Trenton, my dear and loving father, wasn’t worth shit—he never came looking for me until it was too late. But you, baby girl … you love me. And can I be honest with you?”

  I nod.

  My body is trembling because Dad is off on one of his tangents, but it’s not one drenched in anger and reprimands. It’s one from his heart and to me, that it makes it much deadlier.

  “I love you, too Darbs. Even if you never say it back to me, I want you to know that you’re my favorite girl. You’re the only kid I’ve ever had that’s worth a damn. You take care of me, and because of that, I’ll take care of you as best as I can. Get dressed and go get the kids. I think it’s time we all had that chat you’ve been wanting to avoid.”

  He leans down and presses his lips softly against mine, giving my ass a firm squeeze before he walks out of the room.

  And just like that, he leaves me alone in the bathroom, naked, trembling, and terrified of what’s to come.

  My heart is racing as the children sit on the sofa across from me. Dad walks a short line in front of them, looking at each of them in turn, before he scoffs, shakes his head, then comes to sit in the empty spot next to me.

  I immediately take his hand in mine and squeeze it a little too tightly. If I make him uncomfortable enough, it will make him angry, and he’ll send the kids to their rooms. I’ll be left as his mercy, but at the very least, they’ll be able to walk away from this with their psyches unharmed.

  “Ease up there, Darby,” he tells me in an even tone. I don’t. I can’t. Not if I want to keep the family secret safe from three innocent children. Dad coughs a couple of times as he jerks his hand out of my grip, then gives me a stern look.

  Nothing is going to stop him from destroying the fantasy world they’ve been living in. A world where I’m just their mother and not their sister. A world where he’s just their father and not their grandfather.

  How do I stop him?

  “What’s going on?” Richter asks, arching an eyebrow at us curiously.

  “Well—”

  “We just wanted to tell you how much we love you,” I intercede, cutting Dad off before he has a chance to ruin their lives.

  “Oh,” Richter says leaning back against the couch. “Thanks.”

  “No. That’s not what we’re here to talk about,” Dad says in a loud tone, as he leans forward and turns to give me a dangerous glare. “And your mother tells you that she loves you and all you can say is ‘thanks?’’ he asks, turning his attention back to our son.

  Richter looks visibly shaken now. He pulls his feet up onto the couch, wraps his arms around his knees and shrugs as his eyes dart toward me.

  “Get your fucking feet off the couch,” Dad barks at him. “We don’t have nice furniture here just for you to fuck it up.”

  “Sorry,” Richter replies quickly as he drops his feet back to the floor. He’s scared, and in those rare moments when he’s not pretending to be as brave as I try to be, he hugs his legs to his chest to try and hide his fear.

  “Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” he begins again as he leans back against the couch and rests a hand on my thigh. “There are some things that me and your mom here need to explain to you.”

  “Please don’t do this,” I whisper, my eyes burning a hole through his hand. “They don’t have to know.”

  “Yes, they do. They have to learn how things work around here,” he snaps at me. He’s getting angry, maybe I still have a chance after all.

  I get to my feet quickly and clap my hands loudly. The children get to their feet and look from me to Dad and back again.

  “What the fuck is this?” he asks, coughing again.

  “Go outside and play,” I tell them in a shaky tone. Dad doesn’t know it, but I’ve been training them too. When I stand and clap, I want them on their feet immediately and to follow my next instruction without worrying about what he’ll say to them. It took a long time to get them to this point and we worked on the fear they felt on the days that Dad would go into town and get groceries.

  So many drills and never the chance to actually try it had me a little weary, but they don’t disappoint me and run out of the room.

  “Do not go out that front door,” Dad booms as he gets to his feet.

  “Go outside and play!” I shout.

  A loud crack splits the air as I stumble slightly and lift a hand to my cheek. Dad’s hit me before, but never this hard, never in such a rage, and never where the kids might be able to see. I lick my lower lip and feel the copper taste of blood, then shake my head and stand back up to my full height.

  “Mom?” Skylar asks uncertainly. She sounds terrified, and instead of breaking my heart like it normally does, it makes me angry.

  It means they saw.

  And the only way to rectify the fear they’re feeling is to do the unthinkable.

  I pull an arm back and slap Dad as hard as I can, watch him stumble, and then fall onto the couch, a look of shock and appreciation on his face once he’s had a chance to shake away the disbelief.

  “See, that is why I love you so damn much,” he says with a grin. “Because you’re not afraid of me, but I’ll tell you what, little girl. If you ever raise a hand to me again, you’ll find out how much of a bastard I can really be.”

  “Tell them to go outside,” I shoot back defiantly.

  Dad tilts his head to the left, looks me up and down for a moment, then sucks his teeth as he gets back up to his feet.

  He walks past me and heads toward where the living room opens into the foyer and looks down at our children.

  “You mind what your mother tells you to do,” he instructs them, putting a hand on his hip.

  The children quickly scramble out the front door, with Richter tightly holding onto Cleo’s hand and dragging her out behind him. She was crying, yelling that she didn’t want to go, but she’s not the hero of our story.

  I am.

  Dad’s hair is balled in a fist in my hand. He has me on the couch, legs spread open, his tongue buried deep inside of me and I’m trying so hard not to feel good about what he’s doing to me.

  I shouldn’t.

  I know I shouldn’t, but the body will react to things that bring it pleasure no matter how desperately the person that it belongs to what’s nothing more than to just die.

  He moans as he pulls his tongue out of me and gets to his feet. Leaning down he crushes his lips against mine, kissing me like a hungry animal, and uses a finger to force me to open my mouth. I think of biting him for just a moment, but I don’t. Now is not the time to be a hero, now is the time to give him what he needs.

  His tongue makes its way into my mouth and I try not to cringe. Not because he’s kissing me like this—I’m used to it. No, it’s because I can taste myself on his lips, his tongue, in his hunger, and I don’t know if I can take it much longer.

  He must take notice because when he finally pulls away, he chuckles lightly then begins to undo the buckle on his pants.

  “You know I have to punish you for being a bad girl, don’t you?” he asks in bated breaths. “How long did you think you get away with mouthing off to me before I turned you over my knee?”

  What?

  Dad pulls his belt loose with the flick of his wrist, and when his pants fall off, he steps out of them. I can see his erection pressing against his briefs and I look up into his eyes.

  Is he going to fuck me or flog me?

  * * *

  Whack!

  Another lash from his leather belt. By this point I’ve counted twenty and he shows no signs of stopping. I’m sure that I’m bruised and bloodied at this point, but I won’t give in. He wants me to beg him to stop and I won’t do it.

  “This is getting boring now, Darbs,” he says as he reaches for my hair and pulls my head up roughly. “You about ready to move on since you suddenly seem to be such a little bad ass?”

  I grunt and as best as I can, causing him to let go. He slaps my bare ass with his hand and as I move to get to my feet, he tsk, tsks, and pulls me back down onto the couch.

  Onto him.

  “Lift your head up and say your prayers,” he instructs nonchalantly.

  My prayers? Since when have you taught me a single prayer?

  I do as I’m told because that’s just how it works under his roof. I fold my hands in front of my chest, raise my eyes to God and wonder what I could possibly say that will save us from this Hell.

  “Good girl,” he whispers, running a finger down my throat. “You go ahead and play the righteous little bitch like Taylee did and see how far it gets you.”

  It’s a trick—the moment he mentions his mother, I know that it’s a trap and I’ve walked right into it. Within no time, the belt is wrapped around my neck and Dad’s amused laughter makes my skin crawl.

  He’s going to kill me, I know he is.

  The poetic thing about dying is that I’m not afraid of what comes after. I’m afraid of what I’m leaving behind and with who.

  My hands immediately begin to claw at the belt, but Dad tightens even more, cutting off my oxygen. I gasp deeply, filling my lungs with air and the burn is almost enough to make me piss myself.

  “Taylee always thought that her little whispered prayers would be answered. She made me pray sometimes too, but you know what I learned after all that time on my knees?” he asks, using the belt to pull me closer to him. The heat coming from him is enough to make a small bead of sweat roll down the side of my face. “Do you?”

  I close my eyes tightly and shake my head as best as I can.

  “How she liked to have her pussy eaten,” he replies with a light laugh. “That crazy bitch never passed up the chance to have me service her hole, and I learned my place with her really fucking fast after a while.”

  So that’s where this all started. That’s when Dad became a monster.

  “I don’t want to have to be like this with you, Darby—I don’t. But I’ve had my fill of disrespectful fucking children and it ends now. Do you understand me?” he admonishes sternly.

  I nod, my fingers still trying to wedge some space between the belt and my throat, and when he leans back, the leather strap falls away from my neck.

  I fall against him, sucking in deep breaths, my eyes watering as my lungs fight for the air they had just been deprived of. Dad wraps his arms around me, resting one of his hands on the small of my back and the other on my ass. He kisses my forehead gently and rubs his lips against my skin, holding me against him.

  In other circumstances, someone would mistake us for a real father and daughter sharing a moment, in others, they’d mistake us for lovers freshly coming down from a quarrel.

  “You should have just let me tell them, Darbs. It could have been smooth sailing from here,” Dad says thoughtfully.

  “I don’t want them to know. Ever,” I reply quietly as I put a hand on his chest and push myself away from him. “If you really love me as much as you say you do, then promise me that they’ll never find out.”

  Dad smirks and rolls his eyes.

  “Are you really gonna do this chick shit with me right now? ‘If you really love me’ is such a bullshit thing to say, kid. Especially after I told you that I do. But there’s something you need to remember, Darby. It doesn’t matter how I feel about you because this is still my fucking house and we follow my rules.”

  I feel the anger rise inside of me but instead of acting on it, I nod and decide that this is one of those times that I’ll have to concede a battle if I want to win the war.

  “Sorry,” I mumble as I attempt to get to my feet, but Dad pulls me back against him.

  “We’re not done here,” he says evenly. I swallow the sigh that I can feel begging for release and put my hands on his shoulders. I wait for the next instruction that I have no doubt will come; however, he just reaches for me and rests my head against his chest.

  “I’m too tired to fuck, but holding you always feel nice,” he murmurs, clearing his throat harshly. “I was wondering, though …”

  His voice trails off and I close my eyes. Nothing good ever comes from his “wondering” about anything.

  “What’s that, Daddy?” I ask him quietly.

  “Do you think it would be a bad idea if the next time we were together, we had the girl watch us? I mean, eventually this arrangement of ours has to come to an end and I don’t want to have start this damn training all over again. I think watching would be a better way to learn anyway, and if she does a good enough job, she can take your place right away and we can be a proper family.”

  “What?” I ask, attempting to pull away from him. I feel sick. I don’t know if he means Skylar or Cleo, but it doesn’t matter to me. I don’t want him touching our daughters—or son—the way he does me.

  A low, amused rumble escapes from deep within his chest as he tightens his grip on me. His hand finds its way back to my ass where he lets it rest gently and he lets out a long-suffering sigh.

  “You’re too wound up, Darbs. I was joking. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna give you up so easily. I just wanted to see what you would say is all. And to be honest, I don’t want any more kids. I think we’re perfect the way we are, don’t you?”

  I turn my face and bury my head in his chest.

  If this is a perfect family, then I hope that before it’s too late, that we start to fracture and fray. I hope that the symmetry of perfection becomes so damaged that he’ll finally understand what he’s done to me.

  To my mother.

  To her brothers.

  To himself.

  Dinner is predominantly quiet and stoic. We’re all seated at the table and I’m helping Cleo with her plate under Dad’s disapproving watch. I haven’t forgotten that he told me that I get to spend a night with her alone, and after all I’ve endured today—mentally, as well as physically—I think he knows that he’ll be spending tonight alone in his bed.

  I hate that he looks at her with such disdain, I hate that he won’t even give her a chance. She’s a beautiful little girl, inside and out, but he just can’t see past the imperfections from years of fucking the same branch on the family tree.

  “Momma?”

  I smile down at Cleo when she says my name and reach for the cloth napkin in her lap. She’s gotten quite a bit of food on her face, and she’s always so worried that she’ll make more of a mess of herself trying to clean up. She worries more than she should about a lot of things her age, which is why I don’t want them to ever know the truth about this family.

  Richter would become angry and lash out.

  Skylar would more than likely try to run away and tell someone.

  And my darling Cleo.

 

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