Just One Kiss, Please Daddy

Chapter 5

Livia’s POV

Hours pass, and yet I’m still on the floor, unable to move.

Darkness has already settled into my ruined bedroom. The rain has stopped. Since Tyler left, no one has come back. Not even my mother, and definitely thankfully not my stepfather David.

I’m just alone, staring at the business card, unable to completely brush off the mud from it.

It feels like days ago now, that moment with Nadine in her house. The moments with her father Ford. It’s as though I’m no longer the same person who experienced a gentle, affectionate gesture.

Eventually, somehow, I find a way to get back to my feet. I drop to my bed, now lumpy from Tyler’s actions, and pull a pillow under my head for support.

Tears leak out of my eyes, falling into my hairline as I lay down on my back.

“How long can we live like this?”

I remember asking Mom that exactly a year ago, right when I started junior year. The same thing happened back then—Tyler demanded some money, and when he didn’t find it, he hit me. Except last time, Mom arrived on time and gave him the exact amount he needed, which made him stop.

But I asked her all the same.

“David and Tyler never did anything for us,” I told her then. “Tyler always hurts me. Why do you stay with David?”

Mom only looked away. “You would understand when you’re older, Livia. This is not something children like you could grasp.”

“Did he put you under some kind of spell?” I pressed her. “How come it’s so easy for you to ignore what they’re doing to you? To me?”

“I just said you won’t understand.”

“Try me,” I challenged her. “Tell me why you stay with David. Why you tolerate Tyler. Do you love David? Do you love him more than Dad? Do you love them more than me?”

Mom froze then. When she looked at me, I shivered. A year later, and I could still see that expression so clearly.

It wasn’t just a cold look. It was also filled with what felt like anger. Hatred.

I backed off from her, fearing what she was going to say.

But Mom grabbed my arm before I could leave. Her grip was almost as tight as Tyler’s.

“Don’t ask stupid questions like that ever again!” she snarled. “David helps us. He’s the one who provides everything you need. He protects us from bad people. Are you not grateful? And just because Tyler is strict with you doesn’t mean he’s evil! He just wants the best for you!”

That was the last time we ever talked about it.

More tears stream down my cheeks. What will Mom say if I try to have the same conversation with her now?

How long I lied in the dark crying, I don’t know. But the only thing that rouses me is the stabbing sensation in my stomach. I lift my shirt to check if Tyler broke anything, but all I see are the normal bruises.

My stomach rumbles again, this time more painfully so. I realize that I’m hungry; I haven’t eaten anything since lunch.

A groan escapes my lips. Every rumble in my stomach seems to activate the tender, bruised parts of my abdomen, sending me waves and waves of pain. I wrap an arm around my belly, trying to turn around to numb the pain, but it won’t go away.

I need to eat.

With that, I push myself off the bed. I drag myself downstairs, my limbs shaking, holding on to whatever I can to keep myself upright. I pull open the fridge, finding nothing but stale toast inside.

I pull it out, debating whether or not to even eat it.

“If Tyler beat me to death, I wouldn’t feel this hunger anymore,” I mutter to myself, sitting on the table and forcing myself to take a bite.

Everything hurts. Biting, chewing, swallowing the food. My stomach seems to be satiated, but I still can’t help but cry as I sit there alone.

I sigh. “If only Tyler finished me off, I wouldn’t be in this much pain. I wouldn’t cry. I would just feel nothing.”

***

As soon as I get back in my bedroom, I collapse on the bed.

Agony and exhaustion are catching up to me. I can barely lift my head up, much less keep my eyes open. I just pull all my ruined pillows close, huddling for warmth, as the darkness outside deepens.

Once again, my thoughts linger on Ford.

The way he dried my hair with the towel. His big, warm hands on my scalp. His fingertips brushing the side of my neck….

I don’t know why I liked that feeling.

I don’t know why I like thinking about it now.

But it soothes me, like a song being hummed in my ear.

I bury my head into my pillow, sinking into the mattress. Eventually, my tears stop flowing. Warmth blooms in my chest, and eventually, sleep envelopes me.

Taking me to dreams with Ford.

In my dream, I’m back in Nadine’s house. Except she’s not there. I’m alone with him, and he’s drying my hair.

“Just relax,” he tells me, his voice as soothing as it was in reality. Maybe even more. “Everything will be alright.”

I exhale, trying to relax as he says, but his hands are slow and deliberate on me. He’s running his fingers through my hair. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, but it’s not from fear or nerves.

It’s from something else.

Ford continues to stroke my hair, even when it starts to fall over my face, dry. Soon enough, his hands travel to my neck. I look up at him from below, only to find him leaning forward.

Until his face was inches from mine.

I hold my breath.

Ford’s eyes are gentle. Warm. He cups my face softly, like I was something that he’s afraid to break.

I know it’s just a dream, but I indulge in it.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

Ford smiles. “What I wanted to do since I met you.”

With that, he puts his hand on the back of my neck and pulls me closer….

Guiding me into a kiss.