Darling Nikki Ch. 08

I was, of course, very concerned about where all this might lead. But Bryce clearly had some things she needed to unload, and I take care of family, right? I'd worry about paying the cost after I'd helped her. But I was kind of scared what she might ask me. Swallowing my misgivings, I nodded. "Ok, Bryce. It's a deal."

She kissed me softly on the lips. "Thank you."

She leaned back into the couch, closed her eyes for a few moments and just breathed. She sat up a little straighter, took another deep breath, and her face scrunched up. "Ugh. I promise I'm not trying to get out of this. But I've got to get out of these work clothes. I can't take the smell of beer right now. You need to change, too. Let's go. Back here in five minutes, ok?"

I nodded silently. "Ok. Five minutes." She hopped off the couch and ran upstairs to her room. I went to the laundry room, dropped my soaking t-shirt in the hamper, fished a clean, dry t-shirt off a hanger, pulled it on and went to the kitchen. I grabbed a soda for me and poured a coffee for her, and took them into the living room. I had just sat back down when Bryce came downstairs. I was honestly a little shocked at first. She was wearing a pair of loose jeans and a baggy t-shirt. This was the first time I could recall in, well, I wasn't sure how long, that she wasn't dressed skimpily, scantily, or salaciously. She didn't look like herself. Don't get me wrong, she's a beautiful young woman and even wearing normal clothes she was stunning. It was just a surprise.

She sat down next to me again, grabbed her coffee, took a sip, thanked me, and set it back down.

"I think we've established that the guy who impregnated my mom, formerly known as my father, is a douchebag, an asshole, and a motherfucker. What you don't know is that he's also an abuser." Her breath hitched briefly; she visibly clamped down on her emotions and went on. "He'd always yelled and screamed a lot; at my mom and at me. The first time he did more than spank me, I was 8. I was pouring milk into a cereal bowl, the dog jumped up and jostled me and I dropped the milk and knocked the bowl onto the floor. It broke. The fuckhead came running into the kitchen, hollering about the noise I was making. He saw the broken bowl, the cereal and milk all over the floor, and backhanded me. He hit me so hard I got knocked back into the stove, bounced off it, and -- luckily for him -- when my face hit the floor, it was where he'd hit me. Hit so hard I nearly fractured my cheek bone and did get a concussion. It was lucky for him because hitting the floor wiped out the handprint he would have left.

"When he took me to the hospital later, threatening me with worse if I told anyone he'd touched me, they believed him when he told them I'd slipped on some milk and hit the ground.

"The next time he hit me was about six months later. He punched me in the stomach so hard I pissed blood. Over the years he tossed me down the stairs and I broke an arm. Gave me a 'karate lesson' where he slammed me to the ground hard enough to concuss me again. Broke my leg. Slammed my hand in a car door and broke all my fingers in my left hand. Shaved me completely bald when I said I could see his bald spot one day. I was ten when he did that. My mom had to buy me a wig to wear while my hair grew back.

"Other than the first time he hit me, he was very careful when he tortured me. There was always a plausible reason for my injuries. I mean, he actually arranged my injuries in such a way that no one ever got suspicious enough to report him. He would tie me to a chair in my room -- gagged -- until I peed myself, as punishment for talking too loud and waking him up from a nap. That happened more than once.

"He didn't punch me in the stomach just that once, either. He did that a lot. He's had me face down on the bed and beat my ass nearly bloody with a belt. Quite a few times.

"When he hit me that first time, my Mom yelled at him, cussing him out; she actually slapped him. He punched her in the mouth. When her ass hit the floor he grabbed her by the hair, dragged her to their bedroom and I could hear him hitting her, then she started screaming and crying. It wasn't until right before I moved in here that momma told me he'd dragged her to their bedroom, smacked her around, and raped her. After that, any time momma pissed him off, he'd rape her.

"He never touched my brother. Junior. The shit stain. Never once laid a fucking hand on him, or even yelled at him. And Junior thought that since Fuckhead beat me up, it meant he could, too. So one day, a few months ago, we were arguing and Shitstain slapped me and punched me in the stomach. I'd been hit by Fuckhead so many times that Shitstain's punch was like being fucking tickled. The slap stung, but whatever. I yelled and screamed at him and told him not to touch me again. Shitstain shoved me against the wall, grabbed my tit and tried to shove his hands down my pants."

She'd been staring off into the distance, a thousand-yard stare I'd seen plenty of in my time in the Sandbox. Her voice was calm, unconcerned, as if she was telling me about the weather. Not monotone, either, just...disinterested. Matter of fact.

She looked over at me. "If it hadn't been for Nikki, I'd have probably killed myself a long time ago. I never knew about abusers, and telling on them. Also, I was afraid that if I told, he'd hurt me worse, and I couldn't even imagine what he'd do to my mom to punish us both. But Nikki was my angel. Coming over here any time she invited me was...I don't know how to describe it. It was like....I could see that you guys were happy. And Nikki never missed school because you'd beat her up. She was always happy and wonderful. And the other girls, too. We'd come over here and I was in heaven. Literally. I could see and feel how much y'all loved each other. I was fourteen when I finally asked Nikki if you'd ever hit her.

"She didn't understand what I was asking. I finally got through to her what I meant and she was horrified. Then she got pissed! I had to tackle her -- literally tackle her -- to keep her from storming off to tell you what was going on! She grabbed my hand and took us out to the woods out back. Grabbed an axe from the barn on the way. We went out and chopped up dead trees for an hour or two, working the mad out.

"Then she started teaching me Tai Chi. Taught me how to defend myself. It took awhile. Started teaching me when we were twelve. I never let the assholes at home know I was learning. Not until Shitstain tried to molest me. Nikki never told you she taught me Tai Chi, did she?"

All I could do was shake my head silently. She smiled briefly, then went back to her recitation.

"So there I was in the hallway outside my room, Shitstain bruising my tit and trying to get his hand into my jeans. I'd put up with Fuckhead beating on me for years. I was not about to let my little shit stain of a brother think he could get away with acting like that.

"I head butted him. Broke his nose with my forehead. Then I kicked him in the balls." Her face and voice had taken on a dreamy quality that was, frankly, the most disturbing thing I'd ever experienced. "I ruptured his left testicle. He only has one ball now. While he was screaming, crying, and vomiting on the hallway floor, Fuckhead appeared, picked me up by the throat and punched me. Broke my nose. Fitting, I guess. I blacked out, I think, because I don't remember hitting the floor. He hit me, broke my nose, my head hit the wall, then I was on the floor, looking at him trying to get Shitstain up."

She was smiling now, a beautiful, peaceful smile that shook me to my core.

"I'd had enough. I jumped up and kicked him in the ass so hard that he moved forward a couple of feet before he hit the floor face first. He jumped up, screaming, hollering, raging so bad that his face was purple. I waited to see if he'd burst a blood vessel in his head or have a heart attack." She frowned. "No such luck. So I decided it was time to teach Fuckhead and Shitstain a lesson." She started smiling again.

"Nikki taught me really well. He came charging at me and I side-stepped and kicked him in the knee. He limped for two months. Wish I'd kneecapped him. But I don't have enough mass. He hit the floor again, still screaming, but now crying. He stood up again and hobbled toward me. I wish Nikki had seen the combo I laid on that asshole. I broke his nose, kicked him in the solar plexus, and when he was on the ground trying to breathe, I kicked him in the balls, too. I was getting tired by that point, I guess, because I didn't manage to rupture his testicles. I tried, though. I also kind of forgot about Tai Chi; I jumped on him and just hit him in the head. A lot.

"I stopped myself before I killed him. I waited until he was breathing again. I could tell that because he started whimpering. That was the sweetest sound I ever heard. I looked up and momma was standing at the end of the hallway. She had a really sweet smile on her face.

"When I was sure Fuckhead was looking at me, I popped my nose back in place. I nearly passed out but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. I stepped toward him and he scrambled back. I never felt more powerful than right then. I told him that if he ever touched me or momma again I'd kill him. I told Shitstain the same thing. Fuckhead was huddled on the floor, face pushing into the hardwood by then. I dropped my pants, squatted over his head and peed on him. Told him to get Shitstain to the doctor since I could see blood in the crotch of his pants."

She took a big swig of her coffee, set it back down and turned to me. She came back from that hell and focused on me for the first time since she began talking. She took a deep breath, held it for a beat, then let it out slowly. Then she smiled. That smile broke my heart.

"Remember that day when Nikki and I were freshmen? You came to pick her up from school and Jimmy Wyler was in my face trying to be all big and bad? He shoved me and you grabbed him by the wrist, spun him around, and got down in his face. I don't think you know that I heard you, but I did. You told him that if you ever caught him bullying anyone again that you'd take him out in the middle of nowhere, shoot him, and make sure no one ever found his body. I think that's the day I realized I love you, that you're the dad I should have had."

She took another deep breath and sighed a happy sigh, a huge grin on her face. "You've done something similar for all of us. It's why we love you. You're such a good man. I never thanked you for taking care of Jimmy for me. He never bothered me again. Hell, he never even looked at me again." She giggled.

"So that's my fucked-up life. I know I'm pretty messed-up, but that's why I don't like being serious. Being an outrageous rebel is what I did to keep myself sane, to keep from hurting myself. It's the only way I could get by. If it hadn't been for Nikki, you, and Meg, I'd have lost my mind. Literally. Y'all saved me. And kept saving me until I could save myself. It's why this will always be my home." Her expression turned shy, and her voice got very soft. "If that's ok."

I pulled her in and held her close, softly stroking her back. She held on to me like her life depended on it. We sat that way for a long time. "This is your home forever, Bryce." She squeezed me tight enough to make my ribs creak.

She finally leaned back and said, "I remember everything. Every time Fuckhead hurt me. Every time he hurt my mom. It's all so fresh and clear, it's like it happened ten seconds ago. Which is why I try really hard to just think about fun stuff. Good stuff." She gave another sigh. "Anyway, that's why I'm the way I am. I don't like to think about the future too much. But I'll figure it out. I'll decide what to major in at school and all that crap. In the meantime, I just want to enjoy life. Make more good memories to outweigh the bad."

She leaned up and took another sip of her coffee and set it back down. "Anyway, I said I'd answer questions. So hit me."

I winced at that particular phrase, after everything she'd just told me. "Bryce, I don't know what to ask you. Hell, I don't know what to think! I mean, knowing all that, I don't know how to be around you, now. Because if you really do think of me like a dad, I don't...we shouldn't...I mean..."

"No, sir. Don't even go there. Sex with you has been the best thing I've ever experienced! I know you care about me. The way you treat me, all day, every day, in and out of bed? It's amazing! You're everything a dad should be!"

I goggled at her. "A dad shouldn't fuck his daughter, Bryce! And if you think and feel like I'm your dad, then if we were to..." I just knew I was blushing by that point, "well, it just wouldn't be right!"

"Why not? Why the hell not? How does what we do in or out of bed matter to anyone else in the world? You are the perfect man for me! Let me ask you something. Do you think I'm damaged goods?"

"What? No! Of course I don't! What you've been through? You're amazing! You're even more amazing than I ever realized, and I always thought you were pretty damned marvelous! No, you're not damaged goods. You're wonderful!"

"I think I am, too. I'm pretty damned fucking amazing! So Daddy...Mr. Crowley...Jesse...do you love me?"

I did my fish out of water impression again.

"In love with me? Love but not in love with me? Love me like a daughter? Like family? Do you love me? At all?"

I took a deep breath and let it out. "Yes, Bryce. I do love you. I've loved you and all Nikki's friends for a long time. Y'all made Meg's last couple of years so much better than they would have been without y'all. I owe all of you a debt of gratitude I can never repay. Yes, I love you. I've thought of you as sort of family for a very long time. And since you moved in, I think of you as a new daughter." My heart plummeted just then. "Fuck. What the fuck have I been doing? I've been thinking of you like a daughter and I was still sleeping with you? What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Nothing!" she practically screamed. "Not a fucking thing is wrong with you. I love you, like a father, and like a man. I'm..." she paused. She suddenly looked almost scared. "We have so much in common. We have the same taste in music, we love the same movies -- except for Jane Austen," she laughed, "and we love going out to do the same sorts of things. We're so good for each other. You have the other girls to play with, and so do I. I absolutely love my girls, and I love fucking them. And I love fucking you. You're not the first man I've slept with, but you're damned sure the only man I'm interested in fucking right now. That may change some day, but for the future that I can see, you're the only man I want. I love spending time with you, even if we're just sitting in the same room and reading. I love you, Jesse. I'm in love with you. And yes, when I call you 'Daddy,' I mean it as more than just me teasing you, more than just a sex thing. I'm in love with my Daddy. Because you're the best Daddy in the world, and I don't want you to stop sleeping with me. I love when we're together. In any capacity. But I really, truly love when we make love. Because even though I'm wild and outrageous -- at least I try to be outrageous -- it's still making love as far as I'm concerned." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Please don't take that away from me."

She took a few moments to sit and look at me, simply breathing and watching. "If you're stuck on the whole 'I think of you as my father' thing, and just can't keep sleeping with me, I'll understand. I really will. I'll be upset, kind of pissed, and definitely sad, but I'll understand. I won't push it. But please believe me when I tell you that you're not wrong to make love to me. You're not a bad man, nor a bad father. You're everything I've dreamed of for so long. Just...just think about that for a bit, and we'll table the sex issue for now, ok?"

I nodded, not sure what to think or say. I pulled her in for a hug and just held for a bit. She leaned up and kissed my cheek eventually. "You're a good man, and a good Daddy. I love you."

"I love you, too, Bryce. So much. I'm not in love with you, but...hell, it's a definite possibility. I've been moving that way for awhile. I just...with all this new information, I just have some thinking to do, ok?"

"Ok. Do you want me to call you something other than 'Daddy?' Don't get me wrong, I love calling you that. But if it'll help you get things straight in your head I can go back to calling you Mr. Crowley."

"I honestly don't know, honey. I'll let you know, if that's alright?" She nodded. I smiled and kissed her cheek. "Thank you." I sat for a few more minutes. "You want to go get some lunch? Then maybe catch a movie? Is there anything decent at the theater?"

"Oh, hell no you don't!"

"What?"

"I spilled my secrets. Now it's your turn. We made a deal. So go. What's been eating you up?"

"I don't even know where to begin, honey. I'm...I just..."

She placed her hand on my knee. "It's ok. I know that opening up is hard for you. You're a guy. Y'all don't talk about shit. You bury it. Hell, so do I." She flashed me a grin. "So maybe some questions will help get you started. Why have you been so distant lately? You've been distant with all of us, at least a little. The other girls might not have noticed it, but you've definitely been distant with me, and you've been really distant with Nikki. She's hurting. What's going on?" She squeezed my knee. "And please tell me the truth. All of it. I told you everything. I spared myself no pain. And I feel better for having bared my soul to you. I know you'll keep what we talk about to yourself. I don't want you to talk to anyone else about it. And I know you'll honor that. Please know that I'll do the same. Nothing you say here will ever be shared with anyone else. Ever."

I nodded and took a drink of my now-warm soda. I sat back, resting against the back of the couch. That wasn't working for me, though, so I got up and started slowly pacing around the living room.

"Ok." Deep sigh. "I've been distant with you in particular because I was getting frustrated at you not taking anything seriously. I think we're past that point, now." I flipped her a smirk. "I've been distant with y'all in general," my arms were moving in a wide, all-encompassing circle, "because I'm still trying to wrap my head and my emotions around sleeping with six teenagers. All this is so far outside my experience and my comfort zone that it's beyond funny. It's just downright ridiculous." I shrugged.

"And Nikki?"

"I..."

"Never tell a soul, remember? Ever. I won't judge or think less of you for whatever it is. Promise. You should know that by now. But you have to talk. Get it off your chest. You promised."

I spent a few minutes more simply pacing and cussing softly. Could I do this? Could I actually talk to Bryce about how I felt about Nikki? And about Dana? About everything? Could I really? Should I? I did promise, but...this was all one big huge thing to open up about.

Bryce watched me patiently. I assume, anyway. I was kind of lost in my head. Again. So lost, in fact, that it took me a minute to notice that she'd refilled her coffee and brought me a cider. I stopped and blinked at her for a minute.

"Thanks." She nodded. I took a big gulp of my cider. "Ok. Where to start." I eyeballed her over my shoulder as I paced. "You sure you want everything?"