Page 34 of Roulette: The Madam

“Nothing,” she sighed.

Realizing the first mistake I’d made, I lowered my body to the floor, again. I placed a hand on top of the cover she was comforted by and stared back at her. Now seemingly smaller in stature, I displayed my submission.

Whatever she wanted, whatever she needed, I was willing to provide as long as it was within my reach. Though there wasn’t too much that wasn’t, some things simply weren’t in my control.

“You want to talk about it?”

Her pain was evident. It caused me physical, mental, and emotional discomfort. The fact that there was very little I could do to soothe her aches was far more hurtful than anything I’d experienced in my lifetime. Nothing did me dirty like Malaya’s pain. Nothing else had the power to.

Barriers.

She shook her head.

“No.”

Her glossed lips separated momentarily before disappearing. My daughter turned her entire body, facing the wall, now, instead of me.

Boundaries.

She was making hers clear. Words weren’t the course of action she was willing to take. She preferred silence and that’s exactly what I’d give her. I stood up and leaned over. My lips landed on her left cheek. Saltiness vexed my tastebuds. I swiped the wetness from them with the back of my hand.

“Malay–”

“Dad, please,” she begged.

I kissed the skin of my teeth as I accepted both of our defeat. Instead of prying, I backtracked, finding my way to the door again. I flipped the switch, cutting off her bedroom light. Inch by inch, I pulled the door closer to its frame. My heart was heavier upon exiting than it was upon entry.

“I’m sorry.”

The softness of Malaya’s voice lifted the anchor. The spirit of defeat quickly dissolved. And, my feet developed thoughts of their own. I wasn’t sure when the journey began, but within seconds I was in the queen-sized bed, near the wall, with the comforter underneath me.

Slowly, I pulled my daughter closer. Even at fifteen, she was still my baby. Her battles were mine and would always be. She’d never have to face any obstacles alone.

When I discovered her conception, I’d vowed to keep her safe. Security didn’t end at the physical aspects of Malaya’s life. She was safe physically, mentally, financially, emotionally, and spiritually as long I was breathing and likely after I was gone.

Her forehead pressed into my chest. Her left arm snaked from underneath the cover, clinging onto me as if I’d vanish. My right hand caressed her scalp, massaging the tension I felt immediately. Stress should’ve been the furthest from her young frame, but it was crippling her.

The silent tears were no longer silent. She heaved. Her back shook with pain with each pull of oxygen, with each transgression, with each memory, with each thought, and with each attempt to regain control of her emotions.

I didn’t try to coax her. I didn’t try to extract words from her. I didn’t try to silence her. I didn’t encourage her strength. I comforted her and gave her space to feel. She needed it. She deserved it.

“I’m sorry, Malaya,” I whispered with a kiss to her forehead, “I’m so sorry this is your reality.”

For an hour,I laid almost completely motionless as my daughter released everything she’d kept bottled up over the last two years. She was due for an emotional cleanse and tonight was the night for her. It wasn’t until she’d purged completely that the tears ended and the whimpering faded out.

Light snores reminded me of the sunshine after every storm. I closed my eyes, briefly, asking God to bring her clarity and comfort by morning. When the sun rose, I wanted Malaya to dothe same. She’d been glued to her bed two days in a row, and I was growing more worried with each passing hour.

Now that she’d freed herself of some of the thoughts and things she was feeling, I was hoping things would begin to look up for us both. Counseling was the next option. If things didn’t begin to evolve for Malaya, I’d be seeking therapy.

Once her slumber deepened, I rested her head on the pillow she’d been laying on when I entered her bedroom. She didn’t budge. Not even when I slid out of the bed and closed her door behind me.

Sleep would evade me tonight. I quickly came to the realization as I headed back to my home office. My bed didn’t hold the slightest of my interests. I sat in the cushioned chair, landed my elbows on the surface of the desk, and placed a thumb underneath my chin.

Thoughts of Malaya forced my eyelids together. Deeply, I exhaled. As an early-stage teen, she deserved to live a carefree few years before the ways of the world began to warp her sense of everything, including reality. She didn’t deserve severe depression that kept her bedridden for days at the hands of others.

My pretty baby.

I replayed her words in my head, remembering how each sounded as they fell from her swollen, tear-stained lips.

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