How to Get a Daddy to Sleep

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A ringing started in my ears, punctured by the sharp sound the forks and spoons made on our plates. Each sound seemed magnified. My ears felt like they were being continuously stabbed.

My father drew a deep breath. “I’m sure your mother appreciated it. She loved the way they looked on you.” His sex pressed against mine, wet and urging, begging for entrance. We were both completely naked, on the bed he once shared with his first love. On the bed he now shared with his first – his only – daughter. Alex’s wife accidentally books the family vacation in a resort that shares a beach with the nudist resort next door. His daughter Maria sneaks away whenever she gets a chance and this time he decides to follow her. What he sees changes the way he sees his little girl forever. Language: English Words: 10,378 Chapters: 7/7 Comments: 16 Kudos: 305 Bookmarks: 42 Hits: 32,513

I thought it meant that I was special. I didn't know it would turn sex into an act of shame.

I stood on my bare feet in the middle of my room. I took my gloves off and threw them in some dark corner in my closet. I scratched furiously up and down my arms, irritated that my father had forced me to wear gloves even if it wasn’t too cold out. He’d insisted. He’d told me my mother had loved it when I wore those gloves. She’d bought them for me from Spain. She had loved Spain. That was another thing I knew about her.

That was all I could say. Like at the funeral, I clammed up. I was at a loss. My mother’s was the first funeral I’d gone to. My mother was the first death I’d been alive to go through. I hadn’t cried at the funeral, but I had cried soon after. I have a problem, I like having sex with people when they are unconscious and to add to that I fantasize about my daughter. I want her so badly I have sex dreams about her which I know is not normal or good, but I can't help it. I didn’t wonder where we were going. I didn’t ask this time, because I knew. It was always the same place: “Asias.” My mother told me, though I didn’t need to know. “Asias Hotel – same place as always, dear.”

I was eager to replicate both the good and the bad feelings that had come from the abuse, without even realizing it. It would take me a long time and a lot of unraveling the lessons of my childhood to see sex as something I could enjoy, choose, participate in joyfully. To want it, not need it. To learn that sex didn't have to feel bad to be good. Even now I am careful to think through my sexual motives and actions to make sure that what I'm trying to "get" from sex isn't shame, isn't obsession. Though the abuse itself ended long ago, the impact is everlasting. I felt tears in my eyes as he pulled away. I didn’t know why I was crying so soon after I had stopped. I tried my best to conceal it. I sniffed as quietly as I could. I pressed my face into the pillow. It was my mother’s funeral and my second cousin’s sister’s mother-in-law was crying harder than I was. Even the dogs howled their mourning, sniffing forlornly at the edges of the sinking casket as it was lowered into the earth.

Why not just tell them you love their stubbornness, or their hot-headedness while their alive? So they actually know that you love them for who they are. Why is that? Is it just politeness? You don’t want to speak ill of the dead because they might haunt you? Because they’re dead? Is that it?” Horror Writing | Screenplay Writing | How To Write | Write Books | Read Write | Writing Tips | Writing Tools | Writing Community Not nothing. Never nothing. What would you want me to have said?” My voice was louder. It was growing, feeding off of what it found inside me. Whatever it could grasp. “It only makes sense. It only –” I nodded. I didn’t answer. I was mad at her. For taking me with her, for leaving my father, without asking me who I wanted to stay with. I felt my anger boil over and I yanked my hand away from hers.She didn’t ask for my father. She was still angry. Her stubbornness was another thing I knew of her. Eventually, my father remarried and the whole thing came to a halt. My "friend" Charlotte disappeared and I experienced a strange combination of relief and grief. Despite how horrible it was, I lost something when my father stopped being sexual with me. I felt like I lost his attention, his affection and his adoration. Those feelings, wrapped up so tightly in those interactions with him, had become my world, and suddenly that stopped. It traumatized me in all new ways.