His Daughter Naught

I don't fucking have a clue how to be a father. But I know what I told Heather calls for necessity. I need to comfort her, give her hope. And she's actually eating at it now. She's been emotionally traumatized. One more blow and she'll be totally ruined. And I won't be the reason she lost herself inside her.

"I'm hungry, daddy." Heather whines and brushes her nose with the back of her hand. "Mistress Lea don't feed me much. She says new daddies don't like fat little girls."

I growl and draw Heather tight into my chest. I want to go back to the brothel and take Lea so I can pound my fists into her ugly face. I want nothing but to punish that stupid cunt. Death is an easy escape. I want her to suffer worse than what all the girls went through in her hands.

I carry Heather in my arms and goes up in my apartment. It's small with one couch and a single bed with two pillows in it. I don't have much. I'm not rich. I'm actually in the brink of being broke which brings me to a sudden halt as I stand in the middle of my unit with Heather still in my arms. How the hell will I take care of a little girl when I can't even take good enough care of myself? What am I thinking?

I'm a hired driver to an escort service. Not the shady one. No. I escort and drive VIP's such as businessmen and politicians. I also do odd jobs as an on and off product retailer and messenger. My career as a courier lead me to Director Martins becoming an on call asset into their covert operatives.

Since I like doing the job because it gives me purpose and the fulfillment that I've done something good, I express my interest to the director to be an actual agent. So Director Martins have been molding and teaching me into becoming one. Thus, putting me into vigorous work out and training and giving me tougher assignments which lead me to the raid in Connors brothel earlier.

I carefully place Heather on the couch and kneel in front of her. I open my mouth to speak but gag when I inhale something awful. I roam my eyes around my living room to search where that foul odor coming from but don't see anything out of place in my apartment.

My eyes return to Heather when I hear her sniff. I feel like someone sucker punch me at the tears rolling down her cheeks. I cup her face and lean closer. My nose wrinkles when I smell it again. Fuck! It's goddamn awful. I look down and see Heather pressing her knees tight.

"Baby, what's the matter?" I softly ask so not to spook her. "Are you hiding something under your dress?"

A dead rat perhaps? I want to add. Heather only shakes her head. Her shoulders rock a little harder as she cries without sound. I don't know what she's doing to me. I'm having difficulty staying focus because I'm getting riled up at her tears. I hate the sight of it on her face.

"Hey, baby. Heather. Sweetheart." I cup her face, making her look me in the eyes. "Don't cry. I'm not going to be mad at you. Not ever. You can tell me anything, ok? I just want to know what's…"

"I'm bleeding!" She suddenly says.

"Wh-what?" I frown and dread instantly wraps my entire body. "Did she hurt you?" I growl before gingerly touching her shoulders. "Can you tell me where you're hurt?"

"I'm not… I'm not really hurt, hurt." She wipes her nose, tugging her dress down her knees. "I'm not hurt like what you think. I'm…" Heather looks me with pleading eyes, asking me to understand her meaning without words.

I rack my brain for what she's trying to tell me. She's bleeding but she's not hurt? How the fuck can that be possible? But then I suddenly jerk back. My face drains of blood. Oh, Jesus!

"You have your period?"

"I think so." She meekly says and tugs her dress even lower. "I… It's my first time. I don't know what to do. I only saw it last night."

Last night? I gawk at her in disbelief. So she hasn't wash herself down there for more than twenty-four hours? I suddenly stand and dash to the bathroom, running a warm bath for her. I return to the living room and motion for her to come.

"This is my soap, my shampoo." I start pointing around my small bathroom. "New toothbrush is behind the mirror with the toothpaste. Clean up yourself while I prepare you dinner."

"How about my towel and clothes, daddy?"

My heart jumps in my chest at her address to me. I know it's insane to like it. But It's even crazier for someone like her calling me that. I mentally do a math and shakes my head because I'm not even capable of making babies if I subtract our current age right now.

"Fresh towels are here." I gesture to the cabinet overhead, draw one and give it to her. "I'll go look for something that you can wear for tonight. Do you need anything else?"

"Yes." She hesitates and looks away, suddenly bashful.

Raising her chin up with my finger, I look her in the eyes until she meets my gaze. "I told you, you can tell anything to me. What do you want, baby?"

"Ahm, how about my bleeding? What should I do about it?"

Oh, my God. I don't fucking know either! But I smile down at her and brush my lips on her head before pushing her into the bathroom.

"You clean up and I'll go buy you something for that." I pull the door close and head out of my apartment down the nearest twenty-four-seven store. "What do you use when you bleed?" I ask the cashier behind the counter and stop when she frowns at me. "I'm sorry that came out bad." I say and raise my hands up. "I'm…my ahm…How do I put this. Someone asks me to buy her something for her bleeding."