18. Papa I’m So Sorry
PAPA I’M SO SORRY
Hands gently wrapped around my waist, a radiant smile blossomed across my face, filling me with warmth and anticipation.
“Happy birthday, Lilly,” Lee whispered softly, his lips brushing against my temple as I instinctively turned toward him, feeling the depth of his affection.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice tinged with affection and a touch of playful reprimand, though a genuine smile lingered on my lips.
“I couldn’t stay away,” he chuckled, his voice full of warmth. “I came here to see if my girl was ready to embrace a day filled with adventure and wonder,” he added, his lips leaving a trail of gentle kisses across my cheek, then along my face, fiery and possessive in his affection.
“Lee, you can’t just whisk me away on your motorcycle—I’ve got things I need to do,” I whined softly, feeling a mix of excitement and resistance.
“Not today,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Today, you’re my prisoner, and if you don’t come willingly, I’ll have no choice but to drag you along.”
“Fine,” I sighed, pretending to resist, “but only after I finish this laundry—who knows if it might wrinkle,” I joked, pulling a white T-shirt from the pile.
Suddenly, he pulled me against the house, and I squeaked as his hand cupped my mouth, sinking to his knees as a wave of emotion and excitement rushed through me.
My eyes widened in alarm as his other hand worked my button free of my shorts.
They dropped with a soft thud on the grass and his nose pressed into my panties with a feral intent.
“I can’t wait to taste you,” he groaned breathlessly, his voice longing. A fire ignited deep within my soul, an overwhelming desire pulsing through me—nothing else mattered but him, right here, right now.
He was pulling my panties down around my thigh when the unmistakable slam of the screen door echoed through the quiet, piercing the air like a cry of pain.
My heart clenched as I watched my Pa’s face twist in shock—a look that seared into my soul.
“Oh shit,” Lee muttered under his breath, instinctively retreating, as I fumbled to pull my shorts up, my hands shaking with fear and shame.
“Pa—” I started, my voice breaking, but the fury behind his eyes cut me off. Disgust, pure and unfiltered, flashed like lightning. My head lowered, my lips quivering with the weight of my regret, feeling the sting of his gaze burn into me.
“Get off my property,” Papa’s voice was steady, almost eerily calm, but beneath that calm was a storm I couldn’t bear. It shook me to my core.
“Mr. Wyatt—” Lee began, pleading, but Papa’s eyes hardened.
“I said get before I grab my shotgun,” his voice edged upward, a clear threat darkening his tone. My stomach twisted at the danger—the unspoken warning that hung heavy between us.
“Lilly, I— I am so sorr—” Lee’s voice cracked, helpless.
“Just go, please,” I whispered, my words barely audible, coated with a mixture of fear and heartbreak.
Lee shot me one last look, then turned away and left, leaving me rooted to the ground, paralyzed by dread, knowing what was coming but helpless to stop it.
Papa waited—silent, stoic—as the motorbike’s distant hum faded into the surrounding woods, as life outside pressed on unaware.
“Papa, I—” I tried again, but his hand shot out with violent speed, striking my cheek before I even realized I was about to speak.
“I didn’t know I raised a whore,” his words sliced through the air, cold and heavy with disgust. His voice was a savage blow, and I felt it deep inside my chest, shattering any last remnants of innocence.
Tears spilled from my eyes, streaking down onto my shirt as he dragged me into the woods, a place I knew too well now as a realm of fear and pain.
I screamed—desperation echoing in my heart—but it was useless.
Something in him had broken, fractured beyond repair, and I was consumed by terror, dread pooling in every fiber of my being, unsure of what darkness awaited next.