Daddy's Little Angel novel Chapter 27

I never really understood what people meant when they talked about 'Existing but not really living' till recent. The past three years of my life had been excruciatingly slow and at the same time blurry.

I am a modern day zombie, going through every day just existing, not actually living.

College, a place of fun and freedom, is my personal prison. My dorm room seem to be my cage , never going out except necessary. My stubbornness and strong resolve are the cuffs that keeps me in place. I wouldn't want it any other way, but sadly, my four years sentence is about to elapse.

I don't want to leave this prison. I don't want to leave my cage. I don't want to go back to him. I am terrified of what I might find.

Father respected my wishes like always. I don't know what to feel about how easy it was for him. He never called me once, not even a text. It's like he forgot about my existence all at once. I have been keeping tabs on him. It's not difficult, seeing that lately, he has become the face of every business magazine and the major focus of paparazzi. It's like everything changed when I left. According to reports, he as achieved more within this three years than he ever did. My father who never attended social gatherings, and was hardly seen on television, is now on every male and business magazine. It's like I was the one holding him back.

My father never loved attention. His pictures were hardly taken. Only a few people could put a face to the name that was worth billions. He never shows how much he is worth, always dressing simple and doesn't own anything over exorbitant. Gosh, he doesn't even own a private jet! Which multi billionaire wouldn't have that? Except my dad of 'cause.

I thought I knew him. I thought he was happy the way he lived a humble life away from public eyes. Looking at things now,I don't think I know my dad as much as I thought I did.

I once thought my father to be my hero. To me, he was worth more than a thousand fathers and mother's coupled together. He played every role to the best of his ability. He was a father when he needed to be, a mother when I needed one and a brother when the occasion called for it. He was my friend, and if fate wasn't so cruel, he would have been my lover.

I had always felt different about my father. I just couldn't find the right words to express what and how I felt, nor the right moment to say it...

Looking at it now, I think it wasn't words or time I lacked, no, it was courage. I couldn't say I love you because I believe love equates weakness. I didn't want to be seen as weak, neither did I like the feeling that it brought in its wake. I wanted to come off as strong, independent and reliable. This determination made me seem more unfeeling than reserved.

Once, I saw him move about, not being able to sleep and then he sat up, and lazily held himself and began making a slow up and down moment with his hand. While he threw his head backwards, eyes closed and mouth agar as little gasp and deep groans that had my body reacting strangely spilled from his parted lips. I knew I shouldn't be watching, but I couldn't look away. I watched every move with immense concentration till he came undone.

This made little sense to my little self back then, all I knew was I was curious, and amused. I was confused. I didn't know what he was doing and what the sounds meant and as much as I wanted to ask him, I knew I couldn't risk being caught. Watching him, became a routine. I realized he did it often. The sound became my addiction and the sight my undoing. Later on, I heard some older girls at school talking about things that sounded familiar with what I witnessed and slyly paid attention. It wasn't long before I got the hang of it, and after clocking fifteen, I had full knowledge of such issues. I mastered the art of pleasure just by looking at my dad and watching a few porn. I knew every detail of my fathers body than I did mine. I was a lost case. I wanted to tell him I knew how to please him, that I would gladly do it if he let me, yet I knew I was sick to have such thoughts. I wanted to stop watching him sleep, I wanted to stop thinking of him when I brought my self to the edge with my own fingers.

I didn't want to moan his name as I climaxed. But I had sank too deep, I couldn't stop. I remember our first kiss, it was accidental, innocent even, but I was on cloud nine, having a out of body experience. My body pressed up against his as I felt the heat of his body seeping into my skin was a dream come through. I wanted to cry for joy. Evey little touch from him has a way of setting me ablaze.

Right now, I dread going back to the house that hold all this memories. I dread going home to a man that poured out his heart to me and all I did was trample on his feelings. I want to see him. I want to tell him that the distance was a silly idea. That I can't function without him. I want to tell him I don't care what's wrong or right anymore. I want him to want me.

All this said, I pick up my phone to call my dad and confess my love for him. I had a big smile plastered on my face. If only I had known that I was in for a joy terminating and heart shattering surprise of my life.