Page 5 of Girls Night
“I saw the way you looked at her,” Tucker whispers in a harsh tone, his eyes narrowing accusingly as he scrutinizes my reaction to his words.
“How do I look at her?” I counter, attempting to keep my face and tone neutral while my thoughts race with uncertainty and fear.
“Like you’re thinking things you shouldn’t. You can’t have her.”
“Who’s thinking things they shouldn't?” The sharp voice of our father cuts across us, and my heart thumps unevenly in response.
“I’m not thinking about things I shouldn’t. I was remembering my lessons, using what you’re teaching me to imagine what it would be like to be in her place and taken by a man in that manner.”
The carefully worded lie wants to stick in my throat. The thought of being in Violante’s place, sexually or otherwise, makes me want to puke. I doubt I could ever want a man inside my body, no matter how many lessons I’m forced to watch and whether or not my father is the one to teach them. I’m not sure why he’s so insistent on being my teacher when he’s my own flesh and blood, but I suppose I should feel some sort of gratitude or relief that I’m being forced into the position of voyeur as opposed to active participant. His previous threat, though, suggests he’s not opposed to going to such lengths if pushed.I want to throw up.
My father looks pleased, if not entirely convinced by my lie, and I avoid my brother’s gaze, which I’m sure is twisted with disbelief and suspicion. I’ve never been able to get anything past him; he’s too perceptive. If I’m to succeed in freeing Violante and myself, then it’s clear he’s the one I’ll need to elude. It tears at the already frayed and ragged edges of my heart that we’ve grown so distant in such a short time. Trust between us has been non-existent ever since Father decided to fix his broken daughter’s perverse cravings and involve Tucker in my tutelage.
‘Filthy dyke’. Father’s cruel words rise to the surface of my mind again, and I have to maintain my composure while holding back my tears. I want to escape, and if I can figure a way out of this torment, I’m taking Violante with me.
“Wait here,” my father instructs and disappears into the living room.
He comes back moments later clutching a disc that he hands to me. I take it, frowning at the nondescript object. His lips purse, and he stares at me for a long moment, assessing me before he speaks again, smirking as he says, “Homework. I’m sure I won’t need to spell out to you what you need to do with that.”
I fight back the wince his expression and words threaten to set loose, and instead force my lips up into a smile that more closely resembles a grimace, I suspect.
“I’ll do it tonight.”
I won’t respond to the contents in the way he anticipates. I’d rather chop off my fingers than attempt to get myself off while watching, what is likely to be, a lewd and explicit physical display between a man and a woman. Regardless of how I feel, though, I will need to play whatever is on this disc because I’m sure either he or Tucker will be checking to make sure I do.
I head up the stairs with the DVD in hand, and the moment I’m out of view, I let my lips curl in distaste. I’ve given up trying to make my father understand that my preference for women isn’t a choice. I can’t be cured, no matter how intent he is on doing so. However, the harder he pushes, the more the doubts slip in, and my self-assurance is being shaken by the conviction of his belief that what I desire is fundamentally wrong.
Chapter Seven
Farren
As I stomp through my bedroom door, I feel the urge to slam it, but tampering the impulse down, I shut it quietly behind me. With the door closed, I stand against it, and with tired eyes, I take in the familiar room, seeing the same dull prison I’ve been waking up in for years. I don’t want to give my father any more ammunition than he already has, and if I show any kind of discomfort or defiance toward him and his lessons, I’ll only make things worse for myself and Violante.
I have to play the part of a dutiful daughter, trying her best to pay attention to her father’s lessons and adhere to his rules. However, the painful truth is trying its best to worm its way out of me: I don’t know how to be anything other than who I am. I know in my heart I have to smother my desires, to hide every facet of myself from him in the hope that if I succeed, he’ll let us both go...but deep down, I know he’d rather kill us than set either one of us free.
Sighing, I drag myself wearily over to my worn, wooden desk and take a seat. The DVD I’m still clutching feels as though it’s burning my palm, and I know the moment I play it my retinas and stomach will feel the same way. Letting out a long exhaled breath, I press the button on the side of my laptop and cringe as it ejects the disc tray. I quickly insert the disc before I lose my nerve and snap the blasted thing into pieces instead. Defying my father and destroying his property wouldn’t win me any favors with him.
I clench my fingers around the edge of the desk, and rubbing the tips against the uneven ridges in the wood, I concentrate on the texture while I grit my teeth, trying to keep calm as the cheesy music plays quietly through the speakers. Heavy footsteps pound on the stairs, signaling my father’s approach, and I force myself to stare glassy-eyed at the screen in case he comes in. He wouldn’t approve of my stiff posture or lack of self-stimulation, but some things are beyond my will. I can only hope the fact I’m complying with his orders to watch this crap will be enough to appease him.
My door bursts open, but I force myself to remain still, pretending I’m fixated on the sight of the man positioning the woman on all fours and taking her from behind. I don’t see how I could ever want to be in her place, and it tarnishes my heart and soul to even consider trying such a thing.
“That’s not how you watch porn. I’ve seen you, remember? When I caught you watching those filthy dykes together, you were showing a lot more interest and enthusiasm than this. It’s not a fucking documentary. Go lie down!” he barks, hitting pause and picking up the laptop.
I jump at his shout before hurrying to obey, even though it’s the last thing I want to do, especially with him in the room. My heart is already pounding, and my breaths are shallow from nerves and embarrassment. The memory of how he found out I was gay is still stark in my mind, but I can’t get lost in the past when my current actions will have a direct impact on not only my future but Violante’s as well. I don’t know what he has in mind; however, given how painful all of his previous lessons have been to live through, I doubt this one will be any easier.
I lie down on the bed, shaking with fear and anything but relaxed. I wish the bed would swallow me up like the one in that scary movie I once watched, but it doesn’t because this is real. I’m living in my own horror movie, only the monster isn’t some strange paranormal being or a serial killer I can escape from, he’s my own father, and there’s no running from blood.
I watch with wide eyes as he places the laptop next to me on the bed, close enough for me to clearly see the screen, and he presses play. The movie continues, and I lie there frozen while the music and sounds of feminine and masculine grunts and moans fill the room. Father doesn’t leave, and I’m guessing it’s so he can watch me demonstrate my understanding of his lesson, but rather than taking the seat I just vacated like I’d expect, he climbs on the bed and lies next to me.
A frightened whimper passes from my lips before I can stop it, and I start to move away from him, but a hand on my wrist stops me, and I struggle as he tugs me closer to him. I’m panicking now; my breaths are escaping in rapid pants, and my heart is racing so fast I could almost believe I’m having a heart attack.
“You’re not going anywhere, Farren. You knew what you were expected to do, and you disobeyed me, so I’m going to make sure you complete your homework and understand everything I’ve taught you.” His voice is harsh, and the menace in his tone makes my entire body fluctuate from hot to cold.
Tears slip free when he tightens his grip on my wrist while his other hand roughly tugs down my leggings.
“No, Dad. Please, I’ll do what you ask.”
“Do it then,” he barks.
