Sunday Short

Trigger … abuse warning.

The curtain hanging on a silver rod creates the illusion of a fabric stain glass with the sun flooding from behind. My coffee mug looks whiter than it did yesterday.  I sit at a table without a speck of dust, in an apartment that is meticulously cleaned and organized. The absence of sound makes my breathing noticeable.

“He’s dead,” rings out before I can stop it from leaving my lips.

Closing my eyes, I am transported to the front seat of his big black car in the parking lot of a restaurant.

It was the very last time and I didn’t pay attention to where I was being driven. Not one turn. Not one mile.  It was the last time and I didn’t make a mental note of what restaurant I was taken to, but it was the first time I tried to make myself memorable to the server.  Please see me.  Please remember me.  Please help me.

I blink my eyes open, but I find I’m still in that car.

Still sitting next to him. Why did I wear a skirt?

His hand slowly found its way to my knee and closed its grip on it. The door was locked.  I didn’t know where I am. 

He leaned in to ask, “You are going to be a highly sexual woman. Has it already started?”

I shook my head. Tears began to collect in my eyes.  I found a spot on the hood of the car and didn’t look away.

His hand began to open and his fingers spread out. My stomach turned. 

“Both your mother and I are very sexual people. I will teach you how to deal with it.”

I drew my shoulders upward to my ears, my hands locked together between my legs.

His hand moved to my thigh.

A tear ran out of my right eye.

“Men are going to want you. They’re gonna be all over you.” He slid the palm of his hand up and rested it on my inner most thigh. “Specially, if you lose a little bit of weight.  You need to know what to do for them.”

I’m pressed against the door.

“You know no one will love you when you’re a fat girl. They may still fuck you though.” He laughed and removed his hand from my body. 

When he took a hold of my wrist and placed my closed hand on his cock, I could feel his laughter.

 Forced to take my hand up and down his cock three times, he let go on the last pass. “See what you do to me. Stop with the tears, we have to go inside.  They will be here soon.”

I wipe my eyes and take a drink of coffee. It’s cold.  I get up and walk to the window where I see a white car is parked in the driveway waiting to take me for another ride.  Now, I understand why I always want to drive.

How many other things will begin to come into focus now that he is dead?

Today, my life can begin again. In the brightness of this room, the weight of him leaves this world as he does.

On this day, my father is finally dead.




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