Chapter Text
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You've had a bad day. Your body is tense and you can't stop thinking about your co-workers and their impossible expectations. It's giving you a headache but you can't stop ruminating on your frustration.
You lie down in bed and turn off all the lights in an attempt to rest and reset yourself.
Relief never comes.
Dave comes home from work. The slam of the front door makes you twitch. You're so annoyed and now Dave's presence is annoying you, but you don't know what to do about it. You don't know how to get out of your own head when your body is anxious, too--your temples and neck tense with every heartbeat and it feels like there's worms crawling beneath your skin.
"I can't, Dave," you hold your hand up as you hear him step into the bedroom.
"Can't what?" he asks.
"I feel awful. I don't know what's wrong with me. I can't relax. I can't stop thinking about work. I keep having the same fight again and again in my head."
He breathes in deep. He toes off his shoes and crawls in the bed.
"Dave, please," you beg. "I don't wanna be touched right now. I--"
"Shh, shh shh," he coos and lays behind you on top of the duvet. "I'm right here." He rests one large hand on your arm.
You push his hand away, irritated. "Stop!" You're angry. You hate yourself. You hate yourself so much. Who did he think he was, being gentle with you? All you wanted to do was hit yourself.
He grabs your wrist and holds tight. "Sweetheart--"
"Just leave me alone!" you shout and try to squirm away.
"Who takes care of you?" He asks, unyielding. Hand strong around your wrist.
"Dave, stop!" you twist in discomfort. You try to wrench your hand away, but he's too strong for you and it makes you hate yourself more. "Please, stop!" Tears fill your eyes.
"Who takes care of you?" he asks again, but you can't answer. You shake your head--retreating further and further into your own mind. You're so scared and you're not sure why. Dave climbs on top of you and grabs your other wrist before you can push him away again. "I need you to look at me."
"No!" you shout and grit your teeth. The tears flow freely now. You try to buck him off of you, but you're not strong enough.
"Who takes care of you, sweet girl?" His eyes chase yours.
"I'm not sweet!" you spit. "I'm worthless!"
"No, you're not," Dave speaks so tenderly. So affectionately. And with understanding instead of condescension. "You're my sweet girl. Who takes care of my sweet girl?"
You can't move. You can't fight back. He won't let you. He's weighing you down into the bed and you don't know what to do. You don't want to hear him. You don't want him around at all. But he's there. And you're trapped. You can't wipe your tears or hide your face. You hate being like this. You hate being seen like this. You hate that Dave has to put up with you. You start sobbing as if something is bursting from your chest and gut. "You do," you choke out.
"I do," he says evenly. His eyes bore into yours. "And who am I?"
You look away meekly. "... Daddy."
He hums. "And who gives his sweet girl everything she needs?"
"... Daddy." You sniff.
"And who protects his sweet girl?"
You close your eyes and find your breath beneath the weight of him. You breathe into your belly even though it scares you. "...Daddy," you murmur through trembling lips.
"And who do you surrender to?"
Who do you trust? Who do you trust with your heart and your emotions? Who do you trust to understand you? Who do you trust to forgive you? Who do you trust to give you the patience you deserve?
Who can you give in to? Who doesn't make you fight and argue and defend? Who can you be open and honest with? Who won't hold your mistakes against you? Who won't take your victories as their own? Who lets you be you? Who wants you to be you and no one else?
"...Daddy," you cry out, your tension finally finding its release. "Daddy, I love you!"
Dave finally releases your hands, and you wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. "Daddy loves you, too, sweet girl." He kisses your head, your cheek, whichever part of you his lips can touch.
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