“You remember what we have to do little one?” Daddy says to me quietly, so as to not attract attention.
“Uh huh!” I say in my most grown-up-est of voices. “Smile at the nice police man but don’t say anything.”
“Exactly. Good girl.” His reassuring strokes of my hair make me feel better. When Daddy told me he was going to take me on holiday I was really excited but now I’m a little scared. The airport is big and I squeeze onto my Daddy’s hand firmly to make sure I don’t lose him.
I try to ignore the looks, the exchanged glances between stuffy middle aged do-gooders. The ones that question the reminders that Daddy loves me. He showed me extra hard this week and beautiful dark marks have blossomed on my jaw line, complementing the red circles of pierced skin from Daddy kisses weaving their way across my chest and up my neck.
The floaty summer dress Daddy chose for me does little to cover them.
“Where are we going on holiday, Daddy?” I ask quietly.
“A pretty town with lots of people who want to be your friend,” He tells me. I try not to squeak with excitement.
“New friends!?” I ask eagerly, “Thank you Daddy.”
“You’re welcome my dark angel,” He kisses me on the top of my head, holding my hand tight in the queue. “This might even be our new home if we like it.”
“What about our home now?” I ask confused.
Daddy looks dark, “People don’t understand us my darkling, we will keep moving on. Always moving onto the next place.” he turns to me, softening his expression “to find new ways to teach you everything you need to know. You are growing every day. I need to be able to teach you about the world without stupid people interrupting my lessons.”
He growls slightly at the thought but before the darkness sets itself back in his eyes I squeeze his hand and express my appreciation “Thank you Daddy, that’s such a good idea. I hope one day I’m clever just like you are, always thinking of what’s best for us.”
“I dare say you’ll be even more clever than me, my love.” Kissing me on the lips, my heart flutters at the thought. I’ll make Daddy ever so proud. I’ll be everything he wants me to be.
We pass through the policemens boxes and they take our bags away. Daddy tells me about the plane we’ll be flying on. He knows lots of things about the seats and engine size and how fast it goes. I’ve never been on a plane so I’m scared and excited, all at the same time. My favourite feeling.
Before long we’re up in the air and I’m nuzzled up in a little nest of blankets. I’m tired and the hum of the engines make me sleepy. Daddy isn’t so settled.
He attracts the hostess’ attention, hungry on such a long flight. Daddy isn’t hungry for food. She saunters over, movement restricted by her pencil skirt, all part of a garish uniform in the colours of the airline. Her hair pulled back into regulation bun, make-up perfect, fixed smile well practised. “How can I help you sir?”
The way she speaks is laced with a sexual tone; more from habit than any particular interest in my Daddy. Daddy smiles broadly. That winning smile which captivates all he chooses to ensnare. The effect is instant. The hostess smiles uneasily and pulls away slightly, taking a moment to actually look at this passenger. Her eyes trace his body and soon she is looking a little more flushed than before.
“I would like a walk, to be honest,” Daddy speaks, interrupting her thoughts, “and a drink.”
“Oh…” she takes a moment to respond, “I’m sorry but you can’t do both at once.” She begins to explain the airline rules.
Daddy stops her with a chuckle. “I’m fairly certain I’m capable of both at once.” His tone indicating a kind joke which makes her blush more.
“Well yes, but I’m afraid you aren’t allowed…”
Daddy cuts her off again, not allowing her to get into the rhythm of her normal patter “They have a stand up bar in first, right?”
“Well yes …” She barely gets out before Daddy presses on.
“I’m a bartender is all,” he explains quickly, “well, I make cocktails. A mixologist the city boys like to call it. It’s all just good drink to me.” His words come out smooth like silk, “Anyway, I’m moving to the city see because I just won this competition and well it helps me to relax. I can guess a girls perfect drink in one.” His accent overly local, giving a false innocence.
I watch him at work. The ease of the lies, the simplicity of his approach. It’s inspiring.
“Oh.” Is all the hostess is able to reply.
“Look,” he says in a hushed tone and leans in. “How about I make some of the first class lot a nice cocktail. It’ll be the best they’ve ever had. I promise!” His earnest words melt away whatever defence she was building. “You could have one too, if you like?” He adds with a wink.
A few moments later and she is leading him away up front. He doesn’t even say a word to me. Disappearing, he turns and gives me a cheeky wink.
Daddy is on the prowl…
My girl parts twitch at the thought.
A long time passes and I get restless. Eventually I squirm out of my nest and skip up the aisle and slip into first class. No one ever notices me. It’s my special trick.
The cabin is much roomier than ours and full of fat people slumbering in oversized baby cots. It makes me feel sick. Searching the room I can’t see my Daddy. I don’t like it when I don’t know where he is. It makes me anxious. Just as I turn to leave, I hear movement up front and slip into a dark crevice by the crew section, concealing myself.
Slipping out from the toilet he slips the lock closed and turns on the “out of order” light. A woman sits in the row directly before him. Previously asleep she now gives him a direct stare, calling him out on his misbehaviour.
I wonder where the hostess went.
A moment to pause, Daddy considers his options. I watch him measuring up the woman. Taking a proactive approach, he brings his finger to his lips and mimes a “shhhhh…” with a cheeky grin.
His actions confirms she is in the toilet. The faint red stains on his hand against the cabin wall confirms she’s probably dead.
The woman laughs, quietly joining his game, clearly aroused to be unexpectedly involved in what she believes to be a simple game of the mile high club. Clearly she isn’t aware of the bloodbath that is likely to be contained within the cubicle.
Wasting no time he leaves the scene, snatching me from my hiding place as he passes. “Well, well, little miss. Aren’t you an adventurous one?” He speaks with a mocking stern expression.
“Did you have fun Daddy?” I ask, avoiding what seems like a potential trap for punishment.
“Yes,” he says with a satisfied sigh. “The lovely lady drank up all her special cocktail and helped Daddy with his stiff back. You know, that pain that has been bothering me?”
“Oh no,” I say with concern, “did you want a massage to help?” I say as my fingers already going to work on his strong arms.
“Bless you, Blade, you really are so sweet sometimes. It’s OK, I’m feeling much better now. It’s amazing what a difference it makes indulging yourself sometimes.” the brooding darkness is gone from his eyes, replaced with a look I know well, a ravenous beast awoken.
Daddy has tasted a little and now he wants more.
“She was quite compliant,” he muses, referring to the hostess “and tasted fairly sweet.” His shrug suggesting indifference. “But she’s not my good girl like you…” His fingers dig painfully into my neck as he steers me back to our seats.
“I’m excited for our new adventures” Daddy tells me pulling us back into our seats. “This was a grand idea, a fresh start. We can leave the past dead and buried” he concludes.
I choose to ignore the way he lingers on the word ‘dead’ or how it makes his brow furrow just as I choose to ignore the invasive thoughts of the events that lead us here. The coffin, my broken play room and the dark… all alone… so alone, waiting for Daddy to come home.
Daddy is right, we’re on an adventure! We can leave our old life behind and when we get to our new home Daddy will never need to leave me again. Never ever. Never ever ever.
I still feel excited and a bit scared and never more than when he starts to pull me onto his lap, draping the material of my skirt around me and forcing my underwear roughly to the side. His eyes sparkle with mischievous intent, they blaze when I respond to his blood soaked fingers forcing their way inside.
All around us other passengers are sleeping, neatly in rows, heads lolled against specially designed pillows, the gentle sounds of slumbering snores blending in with the roar of the engines.
I quell my concerns about them waking with the simplicity of ‘Daddy knows best’.
Daddy doesn’t care that I gasp aloud as he enters me. Daddy just stifles my moans with a strong hand and continues to push inside. Daddy doesn’t even care as I my blood runs in streams down my summer dress and onto the seat’s upholstery. Daddy just drinks with increasing hunger. Daddy doesn’t care as I lose my struggle for breath against the hand blocking my airways, he just pulls me towards him and holds me tighter.
Safe in his arms, ready to wake me later to start our next chapter.