Ian
The moment I step through the front door late in the evening, I get a bad feeling. I don’t know what it is. It’s not unusual for the house to be quiet at this time, but somehow, the silence seems thicker than usual.
When I hear feet come rushing down the hall, I know my gut feeling is right. Dread twists in my stomach when Killian appears, eyes wide and terrified.
“I’m so sorry, Dad. I fucked up. Bad.”
My voice drops to a rumbling register. “What did you do?”
He shoots a hand through his hair. “Shit, Dad, I’m sorry. I was so mad. She told me you had found her a flat and taken her virginity, and—”
“What. Did. You. Do?”
“I-I...” He closes his eyes as if the memory is painful. “I used your p-pig harness on her. A-and the plug.”
An old, intense sense of fear awakens in me at the sound of Killian stuttering. He hasn’t done that since the first two months after his mother left. But another much more urgent sense ofdread drowns it out. “You did what?” I growl, anger surging through me. But he’s not even done yet.
“Then I ca-ca-ca-came over her.Like th-that night. Sh-sh-she. She hasn’t responded since.”
“What?” I bite with a fury that echoes off the walls.
Shame draws over his features—another thing I haven’t seen since he shut down and turned his hurt into a cold facade. But I don’t care. I shove him aside and hurry down the hall.
“Where is she?” I demand when he follows.
“I-I-in your b-bedroom.”
Jenna is on the bed, under the covers, lying completely still. I rush around the bed, over the discarded pink toys on the floor, and turn on the bedside lamp.What I see as I sink to my haunches beside her has knots twisting and tightening deep in my gut. Her eyes are open, staring straight ahead, blank and empty. “Jenna, sweetheart,” I urge, stroking her cheek and forehead. “It’s me. Ian. I’m here. You’re safe. Can you look at me?”
She blinks, and that’s the only response I get.
I try a few more times, urging her to look at me, telling her I’m here and she’s safe, but nothing happens.
When I look up, Killian is at the door, staring wide-eyed at the unresponsive girl. Getting to my feet so Jenna won’t see the anger in my expression, I point at the door and mouth,out.
“But… P-p-please. I-I n-need to—”
“Out,” I say in a low voice, fury spreading through my entire body, darkening my eyes.
I register an almost scared look on Killian’s face just before he hurries off. But I don’t linger on it. I don’t have the time. All that matters right now is doing what’s right for Jenna. But I have no idea what that is as I sink back to the floor and see her still-distant eyes.
Getting up, I take off my dress shirt and my T-shirt. I want her to feel my body, but without the threat of my dick. Then I crawl in beside her and arrange her between my legs, her head on my chest. She barely even moves, her arms just falling limply where I place them. It aggravates the twisting worry to a pounding sense of urgency.
Holding her close with one arm, I take out my phone and Google dissociation while continuously whispering reassuring words.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart. It’s just you and me. You’re safe here. You’re my precious girl. Please come back to me.”
She doesn’t react to any of it.
***
I don’t sleep that night. Not even when Jenna finally drifts off into what seems to be a calm sleep do I dare to take my eyes off her. I stay alert, checking her pulse, her breathing, and keeping an eye out for any warning signs.
At some point, I get up and remove all the toys scattered on the floor, which I throw in the garbage in the kitchen. I don’t want her to see them ever again. When Killian comes rushing down the stairs, I consider doing the same to him—kicking him out. Before he gets a chance to speak, I say, “Take out the trash,” then hurry back down the hall to check on Jenna.
In the morning, she’s a bit more responsive, but it only extends as far as nodding and shaking her head.
When I try to help her out of bed to take her to the toilet, her limbs are stiff, her movements slow. Although I want to try to get her moving on her own, I decide it’s best to prioritize food first. If I have gauged the situation right, she hasn’t eaten anythingsince yesterday afternoon—if not longer. So I end up carrying her to and from the bathroom.