Just One Kiss, Please Daddy

Chapter 4

Livia’s POV

The journey home was a complete haze in my mind.

I know that Nadine drove me. I know that she asked many questions. I know that I dodged them all, clutching my phone, which was still lighting up with the call even though I already put it on silent.

Out of shame, I asked Nadine to stop a good block away from my actual house.

Then I ran.

Now I’m home.

I stand at the doorway, my hand frozen on the doorknob. The happy bubble that is this day will pop as soon as I turn it.

“Livia!”

Tyler’s voice from inside rocks me to my core.

His voice brings no good emotion from me. In fact, just the very sound of it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end with anxiety.

It’s never good news that he’s around. When he’s here, it only means hours of marching around the house, turning every cushion and opening every drawer, in the wild search of cash. Yelling and throwing things. Demanding for money I don’t ever have.

Laying his hands on me.

Resulting in the bruises and cigarette burns I try to hide under sweaters even in the lingering heat of August.

“Livia! Stupid little b***h not answering her phone….”

Taking a deep breath, I finally push the door open.

Tyler freezes when he sees me.

The living room is a mess. Pillows yanked from their cases, lying everywhere. Cushions overturned. Even the small coffee table has been flipped. Only a bottle of rum stands straight in the middle of the room, already half empty.

“There you are, you little turd.” Tyler makes his way towards me, the smell of liquor mixing with the stench of his sweat. “Where’s the money?”

Always the same question. It’s almost like he forgets that this isn’t some sort of bank that will have cash on command.

My answer is the same as always too.

“I don’t have any money.”

“So you’re lying to me now?” He scoffs. “I know your mother gives you allowance. Where is it?”

A lump grows in my throat. “I don’t have it. She didn’t give me anything this week because it’s the first day of school, and I—”

The rest of my words get cut off when Tyler suddenly swipes the bottle off the floor and throws it at me.

My heart leaps into my throat. I dodge at exactly the right time, but I feel the bottle zooming right at the side of my head, nearly making impact. Instead, it shatters on the wall behind me, exploding into a mess of brown liquid and shards of glass.

I almost buckle under my own weight. I raise my arms to shield myself, expecting more, but instead he grabs my face and makes me look up at him.

Bulging eyes. Red skin, flushed from alcohol. Black hair matted and oily.

A perfect picture of rage.

I start to tremble. “There really is nothing here, I swear—”

“Don’t make me ask again, Livia,” he growls, his hand tightening on me until I can feel his fingertips digging into my jaw. “I need the money. I need it now.”

“I-I will look for it for you,” I whimper.

And only then does Tyler let me go.

He releases me with a push. I collapse on my knees. I can feel the shards scraping my jeans. Still, I push myself to my feet and stumble into the kitchen, looking for money—any amount of money—that Mom could’ve left.

Finally, I find forty dollars taped to the fridge. It’s supposed to be for me, as she usually doesn’t come home for dinner, but I snatch it off the magnet and hand it to Tyler.

“This is all that’s here,” I say, shaking as I watch him hold it up to the light.

“All of it?” His voice is low, dangerous. “You sure?”

I nod.

Tyler sneers. “This isn’t enough, you f*****g idiot.”

“There’s no more!” I insist, pointing at the small stash of money on the counter. “That’s for Mom’s painkillers. We’re not supposed to touch that.”

“You don’t make the rules here,” he snaps, snatching the money off the counter. “I know you’re hiding more.”

With no warning, he pushes me aside and heads upstairs—to my bedroom.

“I know you’re hiding more here. I’m pretty sure your mother gave you enough to last you a damn week.”

“No!” I protest.

But by the time I reach my bedroom, Tyler is already wreaking havoc.

With his switchblade, he’s cutting my pillows open. He stabs holes on my mattress, sweeping all my clothes out of my closet.

Then, he finds my desk.

Where I keep all the little trinkets that Nadine has given me all these years.

He starts to move the desk, about to turn it over and break everything.

I don’t know what possessed me to do it, but I leap to the side of the room and grab Tyler’s arms to stop him from destroying everything. “Please, don’t—"

“You little b***h!”

Suddenly, Tyler grabs my hair and bunches it in his fist. Pain laces my scalp. A scream erupts out of my lips as I try to pry his fingers off my hair, but he won’t budge.

Instead, he drags me to the middle of my room.

“Who told you to fight, huh?” he demands, then it starts.

The beating.

My mind starts to disassociate, taking me someplace else. But that doesn’t mean I can’t see what he’s doing. That doesn’t mean I can’t feel it.

One punch after the other. On my arms, my legs, my stomach. I curl into a ball as he gets up and starts to kick me. My back, my belly. My skin burns with pain. My muscles are spasming. My ears start to ring, my whole body screaming in agony.

“I know you’re hiding something from me!” Tyler yells, dragging me along the floor as my consciousness starts to slip. “Maybe you took it to school. f*****g sneaky bitch.”

With that, he rips my backpack off my body.

“No,” I want to say, but pain is eating away at my energy.

Tyler dumps everything out of my bag, shaking it empty in front of me.

My notebooks rain down on my already beaten body. Pencils, pens. My empty wallet. My water bottle.

And one piece of creamy paper, falling down on me like confetti.

Seeing that there’s no money there, Tyler spits on me. I flinch, disgusted at the sensation.

But as though that’s not enough, he delivers another kick to my abdomen, knocking the air out of me. I retch, and he laughs, stepping on my things deliberately. I can see his dusty boots leaving smears of mud on that paper.

“You’re a useless cunt,” he mutters. “Just like your mother.”

With that, he leaves, slamming the door behind him.

I can’t even feel the usual relief I get when he disappears.

My body is sore. Everything hurts. I reach out blindly and see fresh bruises on my arms. My energy is waning. Vaguely, I think that maybe it’s the end. Maybe this time, he managed to beat me to death.

With everything around me starting to vanish, I use the last of my energy to reach for that piece of paper.

Ford’s business card.

I wipe the mud and debris off it, holding it close to my chest as everything fades into black.