Seven: His little girl

"Dad!" I shrieked louder than I have ever done in my life.

The door swung open and my father walked back inside. I have never been more grateful in my entire life, I ran and hid behind him. He'd always been this larger than life man I grew up doting on.

He had always been a complex man, full of contradictions. On one hand, he's always been distant and abusive, like he would rather observe me from afar, rather than being fully present.

But on the other hand, I knew he loved me, in his own way. He was occasionally nice to me, kind even. Understanding of me even when I was a rebellious fourteen year old who was just informed that she was getting married in four years to a boy she had never met.

He loved me when I drove one of his expensive cars into a lake in a fit of rage, he never made a fuss, he never even yelled at me.

I remember when I was younger, he'd come to my room, sit on the edge of my bed, and tell me stories about his own childhood. His eyes would light up, and for a brief moment, I'd see a glimmer of the man he used to be, before the weight of the national debt bore down on him…before he was forced to sell his kid to the highest bidder.

But those moments were fleeting. He'd always leave, duty always calls, and I'd be left feeling like I was just a small part of his much bigger world. Even now, as I've grown older, I still feel like I'm just a pawn in his game of power, a means to an end.

But there has to be a line. My father would draw a line at this Ludacris.

"D-daddy" I grabbed his arm, afraid to let go. "They want me to take off my panties, spread my legs and have that creepy old man shove his fingers inside me. Don't let them touch me. Send them away, now Dad!" I demanded and clutched onto him like lice on hair.

I was beyond mortified…he would be mortified on my behalf soon enough.

"May I have the room?" He looked at Lady Bridgette but the old bag of bones didn't move a little bit.

She stood like an unwavering rock…with her perfectly manicured hands and her stupid pearl necklace and the permanent mess she called a face. She ignored my Dad.

Daddy lost his temper soon after.

"This is still my country! And I am still the bloody King! Get out!" He screamed and for the first time, I saw the unwavering bag of bones flinch.

Way to go, Dad!

One by one, everyone left and soon, I was left with just my father and my mother.

"Daddy, thank you for…"

My gratitude was caught short. I felt a sting on my cheek, and my head jerked to the side so forcefully, I screamed in fear.

I could taste blood in my mouth, and my eyes watered on cue.

"Daddy?" I stared at him in disbelief. He'd never hit me before. His reign of terror on me was always through threats and the occasional cuss words but never physical.

My father's face was inches from mine, his eyes blazed with anger.

"Stop being a whiny little brat. Get on that bed and do as you are told or so help me God, I would do what we will both regret like toss you out of that goddamn window, do you understand me, Nicolette?!"

I caught my reflection in the mirror, my eyes told a story…a story of a girl who had just been kicked where it hurt.

"Charlie!" Mother screamed, coming closer to us. I turned towards her, hoping to see the same horror on my face on hers but all I saw was a woman examining her most prized piece of equipment. "You didn't have to hit her that hard. Her face will bruise, then what would we tell our guests"

My heart stopped beating for a second.

At least before, I could come up with an excuse for their behavior…it must be incredibly difficult to pawn one's daughter for the sake of greater good but this time around, I was fresh out of the excuse.

For a moment, we just stared at each other, the only sound was my ragged breathing and maybe the sound of my heart breaking.

"Get on the goddamn bed, Nicolette!"

I stood frozen, my heart racing, as my father's face turned even more beet red with rage. His eyes bulged, and the veins on his neck seemed to pulse with fury. He towered over me, his massive frame making me feel small and insignificant.

I watched him.

When did I stop being his little girl?

Daddy…I almost whispered but it caught in my throat. I realized instantly that I genuinely hate my own father.

I took a step back, trying to create some distance between us. But he followed me, his eyes blazing with fury. I could feel his hot breath on my face, making me shudder.

I blinked back tears and climbed into the bed and I spread my legs, all the while I kept my eyes on him.

His anger faltered for a second. He blinked and rubbed his face.

"Don't you understand, Nicolette?" he said in his soft voice "This is not about you. This is about the future of our country. We all must play our part. We all must do our duty. This is your duty. You have no idea, what I had to do to get this union back on the table. Now, be a good daughter and do your duty to me!"

The tears I was trying to keep at bay fell down my cheek. "You should go, your Majesty" I wiped the tears off my face. "I'm about to take off my panties, you should go…unless you want to stay and watch"

Father turned around and walked out. Mother stood by the corner and said nothing.

I laid back on the bed and stared at the ceiling, I didn't even blink when the door opened again and Lady Bridgette and her entourage walked back inside.

"Are you ready? We've wasted enough time!"

"She is ready" Mother offered.

I kept my eyes on the ceiling but I refused to take off the panties myself.

They would have to do their dirty work by themselves and they did.

God, they did.