Chapter 12
MELANIE
Iwake to the feeling that I’m floating, and for a brief moment I almost think the balloon really did come for me in the middle of the night. But that hope dies a painful death as I register the feel of thick arms around me, the warm, broad chest I’m pressed against.
Nope. No midnight rescue. I’m still here, with him.
“Good morning, little one.” Axel’s voice rumbles over me as he lays me on another soft surface. Not my crib, because the pad beneath me isn’t quite as thick.
Curiosity pokes at me, prodding me to open my eyes and see what’s going on. But stubbornness wins the day, and I keep them closed, refusing to acknowledge him as I feign sleep.
“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” Amusement winds its way around his words. “Well, that’s fine. You don’t really need to be awake for this, I suppose.”
Fear slams into my chest at his words.
Awake for what?
The need to know overrides my stubbornness and my eyes fly open just as he presses on my lower stomach. “Ow! Stop it, that hurts!”
Something that almost looks like worry but can’t actually be worry because that would mean he actually cares about me fills his eyes as his lips dip down into a frown. “What kind of pain?”
Still somewhat addled from sleep, I blink up at him, not understanding. “Huh?”
“You said it hurts. What kind of pain is it, baby? Like a sharp stabbing or more like a dull ache?”
I open my mouth to tell him I was just being dramatic, that it feels uncomfortable but it doesn’t actually hurt.
But what if it did hurt? Surely they have some way of getting a person to a hospital, even with the roads closed.
He presses on my abdomen again and I cry out, curling up into a ball and clutching my side. “Ow! Stop, stop, it hurts!”
“Fuck.” The word is a low, harsh growl as he reaches a hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone, hitting a button before pressing the device to his ear as I writhe and wail on the pad.
“Ford, it’s Lanie. I don’t know what’s wrong, I was trying to get her to use her diaper and now she’s crying and holding her stomach and saying it hurts.
Could you? Yeah, that would be great, thanks. ”
Shoving the phone back into his pocket, he runs a hand over my hair. “Shh, little one. Uncle Ford is on his way up to examine you. It’ll be okay, baby, I promise.”
“H-hurts,” I choke out, adding a groan for effect as I clutch my stomach. “N-need h-hospital.”
Guilt pricks at me when he moves his hand to my cheek again, stroking softly. “I know it hurts, baby, but you’re going to be okay. Uncle Ford is on his way. Daddy isn’t going to let anything happen to you.”
That’s what I’m counting on.
It seems like forever before the nursery door opens and Ford strolls in, carrying what looks to be an old-fashioned doctor’s bag. One of those old black ones like you see in the movies sometimes.
Setting the bag down beside the strange table I’ve been placed on, he reaches for my arms, gently tugging at them. “Hi, sweetheart. I heard you’re not feeling very well this morning.”
Another prickle of guilt as his calm, soothing voice washes over me. But I shove the guilt aside and focus on my task at hand. “Hurts.”
“Where does it hurt, little one? Can you show me?”
“Tummy,” I croak out instead, figuring that covers pretty much everything in that general area without trying to decide what kind of illness or injury I should be feigning. Appendicitis? A kidney stone? What will force them to take me to a hospital?
“All right,” Ford says, still in that same calm voice that feels a bit like a warm hug. He tugs again at my hands, a bit more firmly this time, but I refuse to budge.
“Melanie.” Uh-oh. Daddy sounds mad. “Move your hands so Uncle Ford can examine you, or I will move them for you.”
Well that sounds appropriately ominous. With a dramatic sniffle, I slowly move my hands away from my stomach. Ford smiles down at me, and again those little needles of guilt stab at my chest.
“Good girl. Does this hurt?”
He presses on the same spot Axel did earlier, so I cry out. “Yes, yes it hurts!”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. What about this?”
His hands shift upward and for a split second I’m not sure how to react. But the more desperate I can make this situation seem, the more likely they are to whisk me off to the hospital, so surely that means I should just act like everything hurts, right?
With that in mind, I let out another sharp cry. “Please, stop! It hurts!”
“I know, honey. I know. What about here?” He moves his hands to the left and I again cry out.
Over and over we repeat the dance, him pressing on random spots in my abdominal area with me crying and assuring him that yes, yes, everything hurts.
“Goddammit, Ford, what’s wrong with my baby?”
The worry in Axel’s tone is even more feverish than before. But I can’t let that get to me. I’m so close to escape, so close I swear I can taste it. I just need to keep pretending a little while longer.
Just a little longer, and I can get the fuck out of this house, and away from this cruel family.
Axel
Terror claws at my throat as I watch my Little girl writhe in pain. She seemed fine last night. What the hell could have come on this quickly? Is it some kind of delayed reaction to being caught in the cold yesterday?
It feels like a thousand lifetimes before Ford gives Lanie’s thigh a gentle pat. “I’m going to go talk to your Daddy in the other room, little one. You lay right here and do not move. Understood?”
Anger joins terror in my chest, and I snarl at my brother when he turns to face me. “I’m not fucking leaving her. Tell me what’s wrong.”
But Ford doesn’t flinch. “I need to talk to you in the other room, Axel.”
It’s the emphasis he puts on the words that has me smothering another snarl. Something’s up, but I’m not sure what.
Even though it feels like my heart’s being ripped from my chest, I force myself to follow him out of the nursery to my bedroom.
Letting the door close behind us, I turn on him, the anger and fear pouring out of me.
“Tell me what’s wrong with my Little girl right fucking now or I swear to god, Ford. ”
“The only disease your little Lanie has is a case of lie-abetes. Look.”
Picking up the video monitor from beside my bed, he holds it out to me. Sure enough, there’s my naughty babygirl, sitting up on the changing table, looking around the room as if nothing has happened.
A very different sight from the crying, screaming version of her we just left.
“I am going to paddle her ass until she can’t sit for a week,” I growl at the monitor.
“Actually… if you’re open to it, I have a different suggestion.”
Looking up at my brother, I raise a brow. “I’m listening.”
“Well, it seems to me that the punishment should fit the crime. If she wants to pretend to be sick, I say we should give her what she wants.”
Her words from earlier play over in my head. “I’m pretty sure what she wants is for us to take her to the hospital.”
Ford’s brow wrinkles. “Why on earth would she want to go to the hospital?”
“If I had to guess, it’s part of some elaborate escape plan she’s concocted. But since we clearly aren’t going to do that, what’s your plan?”
The confusion clears from Ford’s face, replaced by a sadistic glee I recognize all too well.
Whatever his feelings about me keeping Melanie here initially were, clearly he’s over it now.
“She’s pretending to have severe stomach pain.
And there’s one sure fire way to cure any Little girl of a tummy ache. ”
It takes a moment for his meaning to register, but when it does, that same glee I saw in his eyes spreads through my chest.
“I’ll go get the bag.”
Melanie
What the hell is taking them so long? If I really was sick, I could have died by now, waiting for them to make up their minds to take me to the freaking hospital.
Okay, maybe that’s a little melodramatic. But still.
The handle of the door directly across from the table I’m perched on jiggles and I immediately lay back down and hold my stomach. “Daddy, it hurts,” I moan, making the words as pitiful as I can manage.
“Poor baby.” Crossing the room, he stops beside the table to run his large hand over my hair again. “Daddy’s right here, little one. It’s going to be okay.”
“No it’s not! I’m dying!”
“I’m sure it feels that way. But we’re very lucky that your Uncle Ford knows exactly what’s wrong with you. And he knows just how to make you feel better.”
Shit, shit, shit. This is not how this was supposed to go.
Curling in tighter on myself, I let out another low moan as if I’ve been hit with a sudden cramp. “I don’t think he can help. I really think I need to go to the hospital!”
“The hospital is too far away. Uncle Ford says we need to get you cleaned out as quickly as possible for your tummy to feel better.”
Why aren’t they listening to me? “I don’t care how far it is, I need to go now!”
“What a grumpy Little girl you are this morning, Lanie.” Ford joins us in the bedroom again, carrying some kind of bag filled with sudsy water.
There’s a long hose attached to the bag, and even though I have no clue what the bag is actually for, terror grips me.
“It’s probably all that yucky stuff backed up in your tummy.
But we’re going to get it all cleaned out so you can be our sweet little Lanie again. ”
Cleaned out. That’s the second time they’ve said that phrase, and the fear digs its claws deeper into my chest. “Wh-what do you mean?”
Axel tugs his t-shirt up to reveal my diaper. “First, you need to wet your diaper and then we can take care of your tummy.”
“No! I’m not going to and you can’t make me!”
Just like before, he presses down hard on my abdomen and I realize with growing horror he’s pressing right on my bladder.
“Oh, but I can, little one. And if you decide to be extra stubborn, Uncle Ford has plenty of tricks up his sleeve to force naughty Little girls to use their diapers. Starting with the catheter kits he keeps on hand.”
“Please.” I let the tears come, let them fill my eyes and voice as I stare up at him, pleading. “Please don’t make me do this. I can’t do this.”
“You can and you will.” The pressure on my bladder increases and it’s taking every bit of strength I have to resist him. Leaning down, he drops his voice to a low growl. “You are going to let go and wet your diaper right now, Melanie. Do you know why?”
“W-why?”
“Because no matter how hard you may try to fight me, you are Daddy’s filthy little baby.
Everything you do, from the food you eat to pissing in this diaper, is completely controlled by me.
And you like it that way, don’t you, baby?
You enjoy the way Daddy hurts you and treats you like a naughty Little girl. Isn’t that right, my little runaway?”
“No. No. I hate it. I hate you.”
But even as I say the words, my pussy spasms, that ache from last night returning with a vengeance. Clearly, some part of me does actually enjoy his rough treatment and judging by the glint in his eyes, he’s all too aware of my reaction to him.
And then it happens. My body’s natural instincts take over, giving into the pressure on my stomach and my muscles loosen. Urine floods the cotton between my legs, soaking it as tears slip down my cheeks.
“There we go. Such a good little baby, using your diaper for Daddy.” His voice is low, cooing as if he’s actually speaking to a toddler and it only adds another layer to my humiliation. “Now, let’s get this soaked diaper off you so we can take care of that tummy ache.”