She didn’t know the name of the name walking into the room, a bulging obese man whose eyes were undressing her. She bit her lip, frowning, trying to force a smile on her face that she never felt. Yet another of her daddy’s “friends”. Another debt she would have to pay, another meal she was buying with her body. Emily fought to not recoil as he stroked her face, cupping her chest, little more than nubs. Of course, that was why he was here, the appeal of her ruined youth.

She had once been a happy child, in a different time, before her mom passed away. She always had known her dad looked at her in ways that made her uncomfortable. How he often made her sit on his lap, a strange hardness poking at her soft bottom. How he always managed to walk in on her taking a bath or using the bathroom. Looking back, she also noticed that her underwear were often stained, sometimes had woke with a wet belly and a gown shoved up. But nothing more than that, just arguments between her parents, fights that got out of hand. She went to school, played and had fun. Emily had been happy.

And then after the car crash, in the days and weeks after, when her dad asked her to sleep with him, that he felt alone, she did. She felt that emptiness as well without her mom and for once, she felt safe in her father’s arms. Sometimes he grinded against her in his sleep, pawed at her chest, but if she asked him if he was awake, he’d say nothing. She thought nothing of it, helping with the cleaning and cooking, trying to feel normal again.

She never would.

He began having her watch special videos with him, on his lap. His hands sliding up her waist and belly as his fingers teased her chest, scared, shaking, as young girls did things that they had no business doing. He stroked her hair, pinching her, telling her all good girls who loved their daddies did such things. Her stomach tightened, instinctively knowing the lie, but did nothing. He was all she had and despite it all, loved him. When he parted her small thighs, touching her delicate folds, she cried. The worst of the violation was how good it felt. How could you feel warm and sick to your stomach at the same time. She cried harder as he spread her legs wider on his lap, finger sliding inside her. He probed her that way, pushing against her occasionally, as girls moaned on the TV. As he was rubbing her butt, she felt a sudden warmth, as he shook under her. He fell asleep as the video played on, while Emily showered, scrubbing her butt raw in a useless attempt to feel clean.

Things escalated from there, her dad pushing her head down into his lap, telling her to emulate the girls or porn stars on the screen, usually gentle, sometimes rough. She missed a week of school when he gave her a black eye, drunk, shoving her head down so hard she threw up on him. Some teachers noticed after she had the “flu” that she seemed more quiet and reserved. And on her birthday, finally a teen, he took all that she had left. Grunting on top of her not long after giving her a birthday cake, a pretty dress, and a new phone. He told her she was a woman now, and she looked at the blood stained sheets after, wishing she had been in the car with her mom.

It wasn’t all bad, she would admit to no one. Some times it felt so good her body exploded against her wishes, though those times were rare. She was more his wife than daughter but they settled into a routine that while not ideal, she could live with. He had her on birth control, and sometimes she even still loved him, his weight pressed against her small frame, kissing her. She would close her eyes and see some other man, who loved her, pleased her and if she came then, so be it. Her father would always ruin the moments after, calling her a whore, saying he knew she was one. And perhaps she was. He saw to that.

It happened first with his dealer. He was short, but he needed his nose candy. He saw how the man leered at Emily and simply smiled. He told her to go to her room and change into her nightgown. She did but was surprised when the man followed her in shortly. He touched her face, telling her that her dad had told him what a slut she was. Her eyes watered, but she didn’t cry as he pushed her strap down. He smiled at her nubs, his thumb circling them, before pushing her jaw down with his other hand. The pill melted on her tongue as he stripped, pushing her on her bed. He parted her, pushing in and she grunted. His sweat dripped in her face as he fucked her increasingly numb body, slowly feeling disjointed and disconnected. She still felt his warmth as he shuddered, pulling out of her. He took dozens of pics, especially of the cream leaking from her, then left.

Later, her dad came in, flipping him over. He told her how proud he was of his little whore as she barely felt cold jelly smeared on her ass, his finger probing. She was barely there as he raped her ass, taking something from her that she couldn’t imagine possible, fucking her soul as he tore her ass. Later, she would feel it as she used the bathroom, red swirling in the toilet. But that was then. Before she had broke, not giving up, but giving in. She drank with him, did lines, even craved molly and the multiple men who usually came after it. She didn’t need school anymore, just the haze of men, drugs, as her father whored her out.

She looked back up at the newest customer, wearing the empty smile, eyes dead, as she stroked the man leering down at her, on her knees on the bed, pumping his cock with both her small hands. He moaned, telling her what a good whore she was and felt warmth between her legs. She hoped he hit her, maybe she’d push him to do so, for a second of life. He pushed her dress down around her waist, taking pictures with his phone. She smiled and felt him stiffen as she kissed his cock. When he started to tense, she slowed down, wanting to enjoy it some at least, mounting him, tiny as he held her waist, lowering herself on his cock. She winced wonderfully as he thrust into her cervix, hurting her. She smiled honestly as she rode him, rubbing her clit to help her cum before he finished. One more painful thrust in her and he did as well. He took some more pictures and left some money on her nightstand. Some tipped her like that. She rolled the twenty and went to her bathroom, savoring the burn in in nose as she washed herself off with a towel and peed.

Then, renewed, she waited for the next “friend” to come. And maybe, to briefly, feel alive.