What is the opposite of erotica?
In working on the latest chapter of my new novel project, I came across a peculiar situation:
Narrator, male late 40’s, left his family for his military career, reunited with adopted daughter (age 18.)
Emotion or Erotica?:
Cece started to breathe fast and loud, as if on the verge of tears. “I just want to get out of Mississippi, start over.” Her voice seemed to fade in a ghostly whisper. “Would you come with me?”
As a squadron commander, I had witnessed panic attacks, so I thought I had some idea of what to do. “Of course.” I maneuvered myself out of my chair, to sit at her level.
“Cece, I love you with all my heart.” I gently put my arms around her, but quickly retracted. My arms were covered in blood.
“I’m sorry, Daddy.” Cece crossed her arms over her chest.
I took the opportunity to force her body to face me. My little girl’s arms were covered in deep cuts. “What have you done?”
“I have a blade that I keep on a necklace,” she explained calmly. she wore a metal cross, but the bottom had been filed down to a sharp edge.
“Why did you lock the door?” I knew why.
Cece cupped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You came all this way to see me, and…”
I made my way to her, to get a closer look at her wounds. “Do you need a doctor?”
“No,” she said through tears, “I need you. You’re the only one who truly understands.” Cece put her arms around me, burying her face in my shoulder. She was sobbing, hyperventilating, so I held her. With my arms around her slender body, I pulled her to my lap, rocking her in my arms. “Do you have the ring I gave you?”
Cece nodded. “Great-grandma’s ring, I never take it off.”
“Do you remember when I gave that to you?” ‘
“T-the stone, it’s the color of your eyes. when I look at it, I-I feel close to you.” Cece looked into my eyes, unblinking. “Am I hurting you?” Cece repositioned her legs, straddling my hips. “How’s your leg?”
“My lack of a leg?”
“Yeah,” she said softly, her lips cracking a smile. “Your… stump.”
I could feel her cold hand on my hip, then my thigh, resting her fingers along my pelvic bone. Her chest was pressed against mine, so close I could feel her the breath in her lungs.
“Can you feel my heart, Daddy?”
“I don’t want to do this.” I couldn’t tell what my body was doing. If I had an erection, I couldn’t feel it. And I sure as hell couldn’t feel my own daughter touching me. It was like my mind was trying to protect my soul.
“I do.” Cece leaned in close, stopping just short of my lips. “I’m already a whore, a slut.”
“No, baby, you’re not.” Her words cut to my soul, searing harder than any bullet. “You’re my angel.”
“Do you know what I thought about when they were raping me? I thought about you. my hero, my savior. If I could survive, I could make my way back to you.” Cece took a deep breath, pressing her lips to mine. “Back into your strong, loving arms. And everything they made me do,” she licked my earlobe, her voice dropping to a soft breathy whisper, “every dirty nasty thing… I would do it for you. because you deserved to be the one.”
I grabbed her wrist hard. This was not what I wanted, never in a million years.
“Aren’t I pretty enough, Daddy!” Cece sank her nails into my cheek, drawing blood. “I wanted you to be the one to fuck me until I scream! To shove your cock down my throat and finish in my ass!”
With one swift motion, I gripped Cece’s face. I wanted to slap her, to beat some sense into the daughter that I raised. but that’s probably what her boyfriend did. The bastard fucked her like a rag doll and threw her out with the trash. Instead, I held her gaze. “What do you see, when you look at me?”
Cece stopped screaming as tears streamed down her cheeks.
“Do you see someone who would ever hurt or degrade you?” Looking deep into my daughter’s eyes, I prayed for a hint of light. The beautiful light of innocence that once burned so bright.
“No, Daddy,” Cece whispered as she shook her head. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
More to come…
ch1: Trials of Adam, an all-new creepypasta