Page 8 of Mind Games

“What’s your earliest memory of her?” he asked, causing me to open my eyes.

“I was three or four, and she was angry that I scratched one of her CDs. I was scared because she was shouting, and I felt bad about what I did,” I said flatly. “My mum was strict and not a very affectionate person.”

She coped with stress as well as I did. She found affection for my half-brother.

“What age were you when you met Tom?”

I kept my eyes focused on the ceiling. I have no idea how he found out about my incubator or her partner, but this is why I never mentioned them in therapy. Had I managed my emotions and actions better, I wouldn't have been locked up in a madman’s basement.

“I was five. He came to our house for dinner. We played with my dolls together. I thought he was another of my Mum’s fleeting fancies, but Tom stuck around.”

“Did you ever want to call him Dad or Daddy?”

“Probably when I was about six or seven, but I got used to calling him Tom.”

“What was Violet and Tom’s relationship like?”

“It started good, but when I think on it now, they drank a lot and brought the worst out in one another,” I said, thinking about how my mum was all about Tom.

“And when was the first time Tom touched you inappropriately?”

My heart began to pound erratically, and I couldn't look at him, so I kept my eyes focused on the ceiling. I don't know how he knew about Tom, but my mind went to Melissa, the first back-stabbing bitch I met on the streets. She was the only person I told.

I didn't want to remember because I still felt the initial discomfort of knowing it felt wrong.

What he did felt so wrong.

It felt so wrong.

Until it didn't.

Chapter 6

Nathan

She froze completely, and I could see the alarm on her face. Her breathing got faster, and the longer she lay there caught in that moment, the worse her terror got. When tears began to roll down the side of her face, she blinked, but it didn't stop them from gaining momentum.

“Big deep breaths, Daisy. In and out,” I said loud enough to startle her before I began to breathe in and out to demonstrate.

I knew she had been through several techniques to try and work through her emotions. A few of them were a while ago with another therapist.

“In,” I said, inhaling. “And out.”

I repeated this until I saw her trying to breathe through it.

“There's my good girl,” I said softly. “Keep breathing those big, deep breaths. In and out.”

I picked up the large Winnie the Pooh bear from under the bed and slipped it under her covers.

“We can pick this up tomorrow, Daisy, but I will expect you to continue,” I said firmly as I stood up to leave.

She looked smaller, with just her head poking out of the covers. The flow of tears had slowed down, but she was in an emotionally fragile state. My methods might seem brutal to her, but they were necessary, and I would use every dirty trick in the book.

I needed this to work but didn't want to damage her psyche. It had to be a complete transformation.

She needed to accept me as her Daddy.

???

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