Reckless: Shades of a Vampire(26)

“It’s okay mother. I just went for a walk. That’s all.”

“Well then, come on into the kitchen,” her mother says. “You must be famished. You haven’t had a thing to eat since lunch.”

“No, mother, I’m okay. I’m full.”

“You’re full? How could you be full? I kept a plate out for you.”

“Just cover it mother,” Emma says. “I’ll have it tomorrow.”

“Well, okay Dear.”

Emma’s mother reaches out her right hand, brushing it softly against Emma’s cheek.

“Well, I guess I worried for nothing,” her mother says. “I know you are growing up. And it looks like you had a nice walk. Your cheek has a nice glow. You are radiating, dear.”

“Good night, mother,” Emma says, walking toward her closet.

“Good night, Emma,” her mother says. “I’ll tell your father everything was all right. But don’t you do that again, Emma, you hear?”

“Yes mother.”

“Don’t forget to say your prayers Emma,” her mother says. “Thank God for all your blessings.”

“Night mother.”





9.



The Preacher’s Daughter


Emma was dreaming of Michael sitting on his tractor and gazing on her when a sound at her bedside wakes her up. It is heavy breathing, flaring from the mouth of nostrils of her father with the force of what a dragon’s breath might be like – hot, and deadly. She turns to look at him, twisting in the covers with squinted eyes. A faint light is coming through her windows, signaling dawn.

“Father?” she says.

“Children, obey your parents in everything, for this pleases the Lord,” says her father, citing Colossians 3:20.

“Apparently you forgot about your scripture last night,” her father says.

“What? No, father.”

“You were out late last night without telling us why, or where. Your mother says it was almost ten when you came in.”

Emma sits up in the bed, clinging the bed sheet to her neck for covering her nightgown. She clears her throat.

“I just went for a walk, father. You’ve never told me I couldn’t do that.”

“Don’t get smart with me,” her father says. “I don’t have to tell you. You know I don’t approve. It is not proper for you to be out in the night, like the Whore of Babylon. You have disobeyed. Disobeying your father is a sin.

“Get out of the bed,” he says.

Emma hesitates.

“Get out. Now!”

Emma drops the sheet to her ankles, turns and drops her feet from the bed to the floor, standing before her father in her nightgown. She folds her arms across her breasts, and looks at her feet.

Her father steps to within inches of her, standing tall, and looking above her head, presumably out the window.

“Get on your hands and knees and ask for God’s forgiveness,” he father says.

Emma turns, faces the bed, and drops to her knees. She props her elbows on the mattress, clasping her hands.

She hesitates, and then speaks.

“Dear Heavenly Father,” she says, keeping her eyes open and peering out the window. “Forgive me for not understanding I could not go on a walk.”

“Emma,” her father says. “Don’t get smart.”

Her father unfastens his leather belt, pulling it through the loops of his pants. Emma turns, glancing back at him.

“Look the other way,” her father says. “And pull up your gown.”

“It’s up.”

“Higher,” he says.



Emma had been spanked many times over the years. Each time, her father had her pull up her gown, or dress, because he said striking bare skin leaves the lasting, memorable mark.

Nothing has changed now that she’s out of high school.

Emma doesn’t hesitate to follow his command, even though she knows the pain coming, because she understands there is no getting out of it. He will lash her, hard, until her skin bruises and whelps, and she might as well get it over with.

So Emma pulls up her gown to the top of her panties, exposing her thighs and allowing him one layer closer to her buttocks. She leans against the bed and braces for impact. She hears her father snap the belt together, getting it double-layered.

Emma clinches the bed, and closes her eyes.

She thinks of Michael.

“Where are you?” she cries out in her mind. “Where are you?”

Whap.

Whap.

Whap.

Jeremiah thrashes his daughter, striking blows at the bottom of her buttocks and the tops of her thighs. With each lash, he is counting out loud the delivery: “One Mississippi, whap, two Mississippi, whap, …”

"You like it Daddy, don't you?" Emma says, in a tearful voice.