Daddy’s Little Girl

black girl

“Go to daddy,” Mom said, beckoning me to move closer to dad. Mom and Dad were both still in bed, covered in the big, fluffy duvet, with only their faces and necks jutting out. I sat by the edge of the bed, contemplating whether or not to obey Mom.

“You have bed wet again, haven’t you?” Mom said with a frown. “She’s getting too old for this,” she said to Dad.

“Oh baby,” Dad said with a forced smile. “You can come over. It’s okay,” he said to me, before stealing a quick gulp of the drink by his bedside.

I looked at Mom, looked at Dad and then, turned to Mom again.

Mom shook her head, sprang out of bed and dashed into the bathroom.

“She’ll get used to it,” Mom said as she bathed, referring to our current ‘situation’. We had just moved into this one-room apartment. Mom had told me this was only temporary as she and Dad would soon be over their financial problems. What I hated most about our ‘situation’ was that, at eleven, I had to share the same bed with Mom and Dad.

Mom came out of the bathroom, already dressed.

“I have to see Mama Ngozi at the market. She promised to assist me with some money today,” Mom said to Dad. Then she turned to me, “Clean the room before leaving for school. Take this,” she dropped a fifty naira note on the bed. “Get something to eat.” With those words, she kissed Dad and bolted out of the room.

After some time, Dad looked at me with a wry smile.

“Listen,” he said. “If you stop being childish, I’ll treat you like my daughter. Now come to bed to daddy.”

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3 thoughts on “Daddy’s Little Girl

  1. Children are in so much danger these days. I wonder what the motivation is for an adult to sleep with a child- let alone a blood relative. Which way, humanity, which way? I started a short story on child abuse too, which I posted on my blog. You can check it out.

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