I've overheard the way the other detectives talk about her. They don't think she is very good. They basically say it takes her twice as long to get half as far except they use more colorful language. But she found me. I look at the familiar faces of everyone in this room as she parades me across it like a prized pig and everyone, from Mallory, the Secretary and office slut, to Captain Jones, all of them look just as surprised as I was just hours ago when she came busting through his basement door with her weapon drawn.
I was happy to see her then. I didn't think I would ever get to leave. I thought he would use me up a few more times and then bury me somewhere only a hiker would find. But here I am.
She looks so--fulfilled. Like a person who tries it just one more time and actually succeeds. There is an element of shock in her expression carefully concealed within her genuine, raw excitement and I’ve gotta say, it’s a little surprising to witness coming from her; Detective Plume, my savior.
I remember when Dad first introduced us. He had called her beautiful. I had never heard him talk about the others like that. It gave me hope that something more could grow between them. Although the precinct frowns upon partner relationships, I had hope he would find someone to grow to love.
I savored their interactions after that day, peering beyond her unblemished brown skin for any sign she could be falling in love. They all fall in love, every last one, but he never feels the same. I don’t know what he does to them. I know for a fact he doesn’t fuck them. Yet they get so attached, sobbing and slobbering their way down the hall into the office of Dr. Cherie, the precinct’s psychologist, in order to vent.
I like Dr. Cherie. On an especially tough day she will come out of her office at 3pm, insert a crisp one-dollar bill into the vending machine, punch A4 into the keypad, retrieve her prize and rest her back against the glass as she devours her Snickers bar in three clean bites. Then she will turn around, insert her second dollar bill, punch D7 into the keypad and remove the bag of Wheat Thins, which she usually takes back into her office, but if I am there, she will hand to me, but not before smiling and saying, “I don’t know what your dad does to them.”
I don’t know why Captain Jones continues to give him female partners or why there is an endless supply of women still lining up to get their chance at him but every six to eight months he introduces me to someone new and I resume hope that she will last.
I know from how everyone looks at him that he is attractive-- grocery store clerks, bank tellers. They all push down their tops to reveal their breasts whenever he walks into a room, Mallory especially. I want to tell her it just isn’t going to happen every time she pulls me into her personal space and tries to get me to put in a good word. She will then casually look for him as she thrusts her wide arms around me hoping he will see just how well we get along, as if that would actually work, Dad would much prefer I didn’t have friends.
She doesn’t though. After almost a year, Detective LaKeisha Plume looks at him just like she does Benji the morbidly-obese Criminalist or Ry the acne-scarred Data Analyst. I think that is why he likes her most. Dad wants things he can’t have. He flirts with her, actually compliments, even fawns; something I’ve never seen him do in all the years I’ve been alive but all she does in return is smile back at him in a way that is carefully crafted from confusion rather than comprehension. I don’t know what is wrong with her. I’ve been racking my brain trying to pinpoint it. Everything she does is like she is experiencing it for the first time, like she woke up a forty-one-year-old woman one day and started living. Crude jokes, flitting flirtations, even directions, they all seem to go over her head. I get that is why the others regard her so shitty, maybe it’s the accent, but I know there is more to her than meets the eye. She. Will. Save. Me.
“Your dad is on his way, Suga'.” She says with white teeth as she sits me into the chair hugged up against her desk. Under the cover of the blanket she wraps around my shoulders, I quickly stick my finger into the gash that I had sliced into the vinyl of the seat a few months prior and feel around for the stuffing which I then pull out in thin strands. He is already here.
“I know. He is usually here, but we just had to take him off this case, Chile…” Her long bright nails smoothing my hair, quickly took the place of her words. But I already knew what she was going to say next, although I didn’t attempt to prove it. “He was just so…when you went missin'. We all were. Cap' just thought it best he rest at home awhile. Just until we found you. But anyway, you’re safe now. We are going to have to do a kit, you know? Then I promise we will be all done. I know you are anxious to get back home.”
“Will you be there too?”
“For the rape kit? Uh…yeah…sure, Suga'. If you’d like. Your dad can take you if you'd feel more comfortable. But I have no issues comin' with. Tomorrow, you will have to come back so we can take your account. I've talked to Cap’ already and he said he is fine lettin' you rest awhile. I’ll swing by tomorrow mo'nin' and come get you first thing. If that’s ok? 'Round eight.”
I was just about to offer to stay when I heard his voice extinguish the chatter of the others, “where is she?”
Every eye in the room was on him except mine. I, instead, began to cry so unexpectedly, that I hadn’t realized he was beside me now until I felt his body push into me. I squeezed the last few drops from my eyelids, as if to summon the last of my strength, and as he began pulling himself apart, I prepared to face him.
I knew he would be upset, but I wasn’t expecting this. I’ve never seen him so unkempt. He is in shambles. His hair is a mess, his blue eyes are bloodshot, his wrinkles hardened. Even a light beard has grown in. I don’t know what to make of this display and I don’t much like that fact. All of a sudden, I am no longer happy she found me.
“I am ok, Dad.” I say quietly to him. But he and I both know that I am not.
On the days that I actually prayed to be rescued over buried, I had wondered about this moment and the days that would follow it. After he would find out all of the ways that someone else had had me, would Dad still love me then? Would I still be his sweet baby girl? On those days that I prayed to live, I had hope that maybe I would be too damaged to ever be touched by him again and that then I could be free.
I used to pray that he would find somebody to love and would imagine how she would be. I saw her in each of them-- the waitresses, the bank tellers, my teachers. I imagined he would find something in them worth keeping. Something he had to have more than me. I’d imagine that she would move in, and that slowly, the spaces he occupied in my life and in my bed would get smaller.
But his body would crash into mine, cold nights after wine and warm nights over time, no matter. He would remind me that I was the only one. That there was no need to worry about those other girls. Dad would say, exactly as if to reassure me, that there would never be anyone else. It was then that I had stopped hoping for freedom and began wishing for death.
In junior high, there was a girl they called Cursed. Her mother died in childbirth and her father murdered in a robbery when she was six. She bounced from home to home until finally, our sixth-grade teacher, Ms. McClafferty, adopted her. I had never been so happy for someone. After everything she had gone through, all of the death that had surrounded her, she was saved. Just before the start of our 8th grade year, Ms. McClafferty got sick. She died two months later of cancer. I cried for three days straight.
The rumors started that year. No one would go around her. They called her Cursed. Said everyone she loves dies. That was the year she and I became friends. My intentions were selfish initially, but they grew genuine pretty quickly after that; she made it near impossible for me. I have never met such a kind and wonderful human since. She was the only one I told my secret to. She was the only one I had. Worst case, I thought we could heal each other. Best case, she would kill me too.
She killed herself the summer before 9th grade. Said she would rather die than for the curse to get to me next. In the note the police found, she told them my secret. After a six-day investigation, it was determined that the allegations were unfounded. No one could believe a guy like Dad would do that to his daughter. We moved to Newbury Hill six months later. The sex became more violent after that.
I believe our souls are here to learn lessons; that we reincarnate into new bodies with a purpose to ascend. But I think some lives are just lemons. Duds. We all can’t piss lemonade. Sometimes, you have to wipe the drive and reset. I don’t blame Callie for what she did. Actually, I kinda admire her execution. I’ve thought about it a lot this past week. She began to believe that she really was cursed, that everyone she would ever come to love would die. I don’t think I am cursed in that way. Getting kidnapped was the best thing that had ever happened to me. But I’m back now, and unlike Callie, I don’t believe every man I ever love will abuse me; even though I am oh-for-two. The problem is, I have tasted freedom and I won’t be without its sugar again. I will not go back to the days of before, Daddy. Somehow, I will be free.
I am in his arms in a way that feels so unfamiliar to me. He touches me like daddies are supposed to touch their little girls and while they all stare at us with glassy eyes, I stare at her with intended ones. Detective Plume, you will free me. I won’t have much time if I know him like I think. I am going to have get creative if this is going to end well for all of us and yes, I’ve already weighed all of the options and there is only one worth staying alive to witness. I am going to find a way to tell you my story. I apologize in advance for not being direct, but I mustn’t anger Daddy anymore. It just hurts too much. I will give you one week to save my life. Seven days and that is all. You will be my last hope.
This work is created by, written by and belongs to Aecko and shared here for entertainment.