by Rosie Zweet
People say that Ma is a whore and I am not truly Pa’s daughter.
I know that I look nothing like Pa. I look like Ma except of my coloring. My hair is light blonde while Ma and Pa have brown hair. My eyes are purplish-blue while Pa’s eyes are brown and Ma’s are green.
But that it is not proving anything. Pa loves me in his gruff manner, I know that. He even loves me more than Ma. He always mad if someone calls me a bastard. And the children did that a lot when I was a child.
Pa is my only hero. I don’t need any handsome knights like in bedtime’s story he often told me when I was a little. I know many boys like me but I have none of it. I don’t want Pa to thing that I am a loose woman like Ma.
And now, all I can do now is making him proud and being a good girl.
I hear Pa muffled footsteps and my heart stars to thud madly. I close my eyes tighter as I feel the bed dips under his weight.
I can feel his large body behind me and his big callous hand strokes my thick, blonde hair.
“Meggie,” he calls me softly. I know he does that to make sure I am sleeping.
“Are you sleeping, Girl?” he asks again as his hand moving to my thigh, stroking me there.
I bite my lips to stop my moan. I know he will stop if he knows I am fully awake.
“Good girl,” he murmurs and kissing the top of my head. He always does that when he proud of me.
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