Stories and Captions

How Things End

[CONTENT NOTE: Here be dragons.]

Hello, Daddy? It’s me, Erin.

Yes, Daddy; Erin your daughter. Yes, that’s always funny.

I’m not trying to–

No, no, you’re right. I’m sorry. That’s not–

I love your jokes, Daddy. Really.

Can we– can I–?

It’s just that I have something to tell you.

More than one thing, really. A lot of things. I had to– I had to write some of it down, so please, if it’s okay, please let me get through it.

Don’t get— don’t be— you don’t need to be defensive, okay? I just need you to listen.

Can’t you just—? Please? Thank you.

I’ve been thinking about it for so long, talking to you like this. About us and— whatever this thing is. This thing between us that we can’t give a name, because, I don’t know… because putting it into words will make it real? Because if we talk about it, something will finally have to change? It scares me so much, knowing we can never go back from here… but it’s time. It’s just… it’s time.

You fucked me, Daddy.

You fucked me, and taught me to like it. More than like it… you made me need it. It’s been fifteen years since the first time, and I— I still fucking crave you, on like— on a cellular level. It’s like my body doesn’t feel right if you’re not using it. Can you even imagine that? Your whole life, feeling wrong in your own skin… and the only thing that makes it better is the worst thing in the world?

No. No. Of course you can’t. If you could imagine what it’s like to be me —if you could see that far outside yourself— then none of this would have ever happened. I guess I grew up in your blind spot.

It’s not that I hate you. Or maybe I do, a little. I should. But I love you more. I love you so much that I’ve tried to claw through my own skin and rip the love out of me. For a long, long time, I wanted nothing more than to kill it, and if the rest of me had to die in the process, then fine— fuck it.

But I see differently now. I see that your love is like your green eyes and your allergies and your dick; it’s just something you’ve put inside me that’s made me what I am. You’re in my genes, in my blood, in my head… you’re what I see when I think “man”, and it’s your weight I feel when I think “sex”.

It took a while, but I’ve figured myself out. I’ve learned that I can’t stop loving you and continue to live in this world, and you know what, Daddy? I want to live. I want to fucking live. So I choose to love you and accept it. I choose.

But the thing is— the thing is… I— I’m pregnant.

I’ve known for a while, and it’s going to be a girl.

And Daddy, I need you to hear me and understand, okay? As much as I love you… my daughter will never know you. She will never see your face or hear your name. You died in a war, or a building fell on you; I don’t know, I haven’t decided yet. The important thing is that she never spends even one moment of her precious life wondering about you.

I hope you get why it has to be this way, but it doesn’t matter if you don’t; my mind is set on this. I can’t bear the thought of you touching her, for all the right and wrong reasons. She never needs to feel the way I feel, and if I’m honest, I would hate her a little if she did. You’ve always been my sickness, you know? I can’t and I won’t share it.

But she won’t be here for months yet. And I— I still have that craving.

I’m outside your front door, Daddy. Please open up and say goodbye to me.

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