Page 210 of Sinful Desires
Kiara’s mouth dropped open.
My mom’s eyes welled again, lips trembling like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to cry or vomit.
“The only things you ever gave me were bruises and nightmares, Dad.”
His expression didn’t flinch.
He laughed, one of those cold, bitter sounds that made my stomach twist.
“Should’ve hit you harder if that’s what it would’ve taken to beat the stupidity out of you.”
“I am your daughter!” My voice cracked. I hated that it cracked.
A sob broke free, years of pain tearing out of my chest like they’d been clawing to escape since I’d learned how to speak.
It took everything in me not to drop to my knees, not to break right in front of him like I had so many times behind closed doors.
“I was a little girl once. I used to wait by the door for you to come home. I used to draw you pictures and hide them in your suitcase so you’d think of me when you left.”
Another sob.
“D-Do you remember that, Daddy?”
My breath hitched hard in my chest, every word slicing its way up my throat.
“Everything I ever d-did was for you. I smiled when it hurt. Performed when I wanted to scream. Made myself small so your ego could feel big. Bled in every way I knew, just hoping you’d look at me like I mattered. But it was n-never enough.”
My voice cracked, shoulders shaking.
“I triedsohard to be perfect. I swear I did.”
I wiped my face with the back of my hand.
He watched me silently, not a ghost of emotion on his face.
“I never needed a boss. I needed a dad. I needed a hug. I needed someone who didn’t flinch when I cried, someone who told me I was safe. But you only came close when it was to punish me, when it was to tell me how I’d embarrassed you, how I was too loud, too wild, too emotional, toomuch. When I broke, you looked the other way. You always looked the other way.”
My fingers curled into fists, nails digging into my palms.
“I let you decide who I could date. I let you control who I could be. I twisted myself into shapes that hurt just so you mightcall me your daughter with something other than shame in your voice.”
A sound escaped me, something between a laugh and a sob.
“But nothing will ever be enough for you, right, Daddy?”
The air turned thick enough to choke on.
“You never wanted a daughter. You wanted a doll. And when I stopped smiling, when I started to bleed, you put me on a shelf and walked away like I wasn’t worth fixing.”
I looked at him,reallylooked at him.
“But I was never broken, Dad. You were. And you broke me trying to fix yourself.”
I’d wasted so many years of my life chasing his validation, begging for scraps of love he never had to give.
But how can you receive love from a man who doesn’t even know how to feel it for himself?
A man who spat on softness, who saw empathy as weakness. He hated himself so much he’d carved the same hatred into me, piece by piece.
