A/N: Once again, I am going to say that I have never been in a situation like this, but as Dani Blade said, it's real. Most people aren't even aware of what is going on in relationships like this. So anyway, don't enjoy, learn.
BTW Thank you to ShadowRealm1996 for beta reading this story.
Chapter 3- Packing
I work hard, but I guess nothing is ever good enough for my mother.
"What have you been doing up here?" she asks. I sigh.
"I packed three boxes, Mom," I say, obviously trying to make her proud, but it's not going to work.
"And it took you an hour to pack all that? You could have taken half and hour instead," She replies and walks off. My father enters my room, but his approach is very different.
"Looks like you've gotten a lot done," He says, admiring my work. I know he really just wants sex, since he can't get it from Mom.
"Dad, I'm tired, I just want to pack a few more boxes, eat, and go to sleep," I tell him, and then realize how angry he's going to be. He closes his eyes and sighs.
"You need to relax, I'll help you out tonight after dinner," He says before leaving. I bite my lip knowing that he won't help me, but hurt me.
"Okay, Dad," is all I can say, I can't deny him, and I can't accept him for who he is. How cruel my life really is.
"Dakota! Katrina! Lunch time!" My mother yells from downstairs. She didn't sound happy, but she never does.
"Coming!" My father yells before winking at me and leaving my room. I shudder, unable to bring myself to admit to him that he scares me and hurts me.
I have to follow him, but I wish I could just stay upstairs, pack my life away and be left alone for at least a day if I'm really lucky. Nothing could be better for me.
At the table, my parents are silently eating; my mother doesn't acknowledge that I'm there. My father smiles and waves me closer to him. I remember a time where it was my mother he would wave over, but that was before his surgery.
I remember I was looking at a magazine, wondering when I would be like those girls with the big breasts that make any shirt look good. It was before anything had happened, like the things with my father and the incident with my mother. I was an innocent little child, just 10 years old, 2 years before I hit puberty. My mother was crying after getting off the phone.
"What's the matter mommy?" I asked, wanting to console my mother.
"It's your father, I always knew that his count was low, but cancer?" She sobbed, unaware that I didn't know about sperm counts.
"Okay? What does that mean?" I asked, my innocent little mind buzzing with questions.
"It means that you were a miracle, and that your father has to get surgery tomorrow to get one of his organs removed. I'll never have another baby. You are special sweetie. Don't ever forget that you were a rare chance and that we love you," She bawled as she hugged me.
My father came home in a few days; he kissed both my mother and me and went to bed. Mom said that he was tired and in pain after the surgery. I went into the room and decided to cuddle as I always had with my daddy. I didn't know how later it would create a monster.
"Hey Trina girl, what are you doing?" He said sleepily. I laid my head on his chest and said, "Making my daddy feel better." He chuckled and wrapped his arms around me and called for my mom.
"Mary! Can you come here please?" She tipped toed into the room and laid on the other side of me. She smiled and I made myself comfortable between them.
"I love you Trina," my dad said.
My mom whispered in my ear, "No container could be filled with all the love I have for you."
That's because they don't make a container that small.
The dishes clanged in the sink. My mother went upstairs after telling me, "Get busy." My father was already at the sink and I brought my plate over and he washed it. He kissed my cheek and said, "Don't worry, I'll get this load. You can do dinner dishes."
I smiled and thanked him like a polite person should. I went upstairs and turned to go to my room. I heard sniffles and walked towards my mother's room.
"Mom? Are you okay?" I asked through the door.
"You're suppose to be doing dishes," She snapped. I closed my eyes and sighed.
"Dad said he would do them for me, I'm doing dinner dishes," I said. She groaned.
"No, I'm fine. Go find something to do," She retorted and I left.
I packed the rest of my stuff that was not going to be needed and some downstairs knick-knacks before dinner came.
"Dakota, you need to stop doing Kristina's jobs for her," She simply demanded before going back to her meal.
"Well, Trina needs some help, she can't be expected to do everything!" My father defended. I didn't want to hear it. They never argued, until after the surgery.
"Kota, I understand what you're going through, but, I don't think we should until you're fully healed," my mom started. I was still awake; it was a few weeks after the surgery.
"Mary, I feel fine enough to have a little fun. I don't need to be fully healed to make love to you," my father said. I was oblivious to what he meant.
"I don't want to, I'm expecting my period tonight," she said.
"You never do! Not since I lost my testis! Ever since then you've had stupid excuses that make no sense! All it is is sex!" he yelled. I knew what sex was and even what a period was. It was a year later that I learned what testicles were.
"Maybe I'm just not in the mood!" she yelled.
"You never are! You haven't been for two months!" he yelled.
"That's all you've cared about for the past two months! There are more important things in life than sex! Your health is one of those things!" she yelled.
"My health has nothing to do with our relationship!" he screamed. She started crying and his voice grew softer.
"Why not? It's not like I'm not a man," he said.
"But, Kota, you're not a man anymore, you're a human with a dick," she said.
My father was never the same again.
"Katrina, you're doing dishes, no excuses," Mother said, her voice piercing my thoughts.
"Okay mom," I replied automatically. She went on with her dinner and so did I, but my father stopped eating.
"I'm going to go pack something," He said angrily, knowing that my mother won the fight.
"Good, then Katrina, I'll leave you with the dishes," My mother said and left the table. I collect the dirty dishes and take them to the kitchen. My father's in there packing knick-knacks. He wraps them in bubble wrap individually and sets them in the big box.
"Why do you do that Trina?" he asks me as I set the dishes in the sink.
"Do what dad?" I ask, even though I know that he means giving in to mom's demands.
"Just agree to her demands. Your not her slave dear," he says, and his words sting me. He may be right, but something inside tells me that he doesn't mean it. I have no way of knowing if he does or not.
"I don't know. Maybe to make her happy," I say. For me, this is a long conversation between my father and me.
"You and I both know that that will never happen," he says and I know it's true. We could give her everything, but since that shopping trip, she's changed.
"I know, but I may as well try," I say, ending all communication. I do my dishes and head upstairs.
"Going to bed already?" He asks from the kitchen.
"No, I'm going to take a bath, just to relax a little," Though that will never happen.
"Okay, I'll say good-night in an hour or so." Though my father is a horrible man, he knows me well. I grabbed bubble bath and a towel. I close and lock the bathroom door and look in the mirror. I see my mother's tiny nose and full lips, but I also see my father's tan skin and big brown eyes. My high cheekbones define how thin I really am. My short, brown curls dance around my face and my wispy eyebrows make my eyes look a little smaller, though not much. Many people could call me beautiful; my face has perfect symmetry. Girls have envied my looks. Guys have wanted me. I have the face of a beautiful, popular girl, yet I am an outcast, a loner, and I'm quiet.
Irony to me is not coincidental, but fate. I believe that someday irony will become something a little more. I believe that someday I'll be popular and my family will be normal and boring.
My body is small and slender, the envy of any girl. I use to look at myself and think that I was lucky, but I have since realized that this body and face is a cruse and will lead me to no good.
I start the water and add the bubble bath. I already regret adding so much because I accidently grabbed my mother's Japanese cherry blossom and not my warm vanilla sugar. I decided that it wasn't to big a deal and slide into the bath and let my muscles relax.
The bathtub is the one and only place I can feel like a normal, teenage girl with a normal, teenage life. In my tub, my father is the same caring man he always was, my mother is kind, and I and the peppy upbeat girl I was before.
I remember how it was before my father, and Drina.
I was in fact a popular girl, the only brunette training cheerleader. At the school, starting in 5th grade, there was a program for girls who wanted to be cheerleaders in high school. My mother thought it would be great because I had been in gymnastics since I was little. I could already flip and do the splits.
Anyway, we were warming up for morning practice, I was in 6th grade and already as good as some of the 8th graders. Our coach, Mrs. Moser, the art teacher, came in with a peppy blond whose face was new and extraordinary.
"Okay girls, we have a new student this morning. She's just starting school today. Welcome to Manhattan, Drina." Mrs. Moser stepped aside and Drina waved at everyone. I smiled at her and waved back. She simply laughed and danced beside all the other perky blonds in the seventh graders who were watching.
"Okay girls, today, we're going to start easy for our newbie's from the seventh grade, so lets start with some simple cheers and movements. How about our school song?" She said and clicked on the stereo and the recorded music of the band playing started. I was in the back and was the last to rise on the last beat from the drum. It hit and I raised my arms to make an "L" shape. I smiled big like a cheerleader would. The music started and we stepped forward and bent our back legs up. On cue I threw my arms and head back and we turned around and jumped to touch our feet. We twisted around and stuck our hands out. Back and forth we moved our hands to the sides. We ended the song with our hands out looking like a group of stars. Most of the seventh graders clapped, some looked like they just saw a famous person. Drina looked like she was trying to control herself, but from what. Finally, she couldn't hold it anymore.
She laughed, big and boisterous. We started teaching the new kids the steps and motions to the school song. When we were done, we all headed to the locker room. Now, because my father ran the local gym, I was known to have the access to the equipment and the flattest abs in the training squad. I didn't think much of changing in the locker room, but this new girl made me nervous.
"Wow, that was hilarious, I have never seen a brunette cheerleader!" she was talking with a bunch of the junior high people. I looked around to see her undressing while talking with them.
"Really? Well, Katrina's our only brunette cheerleader. I thought it was common!" Heather said. I never liked her, but I despised her more when she said that.
"Oh no, see, no one likes brunette cheerleaders, that's why you never see them. The fact that Katrina is a brunette makes the squad look ridiculous. All blonds, or funny squad, that's the only way to go,"
"Trina? Are you almost done? You've been in there for over an hour," my father's voice pierces my flashback. I open my eyes to see that all the bubbles are gone. The water's cold now and I squirm.
"Yeah dad, I'm getting out."
"Well hurry up, your mother needs to use the bathroom before she goes to bed." I sigh, sit up, and pull the plug. As the water drains, I stand up and grab my towel and dry my body. I open the door with my towel wrapped around me. My father stops me, leans close to me, and whispers in my ear, "Don't get dressed, I'll be in a little bit." I hurry to my room and clutch to my towel for life. Not that it really matters. He's going to get his way tonight, and I made it easier for him.
About a half an hour passes and he finally knocks on my door. I say it's open and he walks in. He strips down to his boxers.
"I think we should try something tonight, Trina. Whatcha say?" he asks. I shrug my bare shoulders and remove my towel. He grabs me and pulls me close to him and kisses me the way he should kiss Mom. He twists me so that I'm facing the bed and pushes me down, but not hard, just enough so that I lay on the bed. He gets on top of me and kisses me even more. I'm sure he's never done this before. He pulls my leg up way too high for my comfort. He rubs my thighs, getting closer to that area. He continues to kiss me, all over. He sticks his fingers inside me and started going in and out. I felt sick.
"I think I've been too rough with you Trina, tonight, I'll be gentle," he says before kissing me again. He sticks himself inside me and starts humping slowly. I feel even sicker. It keeps going until he stops and rolls off of me. That's it, no rough play or anything. And I feel like something is wrong. He's worse than I thought.