This couldn’t be real.
This couldn’t be happening.
Emily’s trembling hands covered her lips as she looked at the photos staring back at her from below.
Every single one, more grotesque and sicker than last. Her small, naked body sprawled out on the yellow sheets of her bed. The set of fingers grabbing and clawing at her inner thighs. Blair’s teary eyes staring back at the flash as she covered her bare chest with her tiny hands. This wasn’t a box of memories. It was a box of nightmares. And this nightmare had a name.
Mitch Bradley.
daddy
“Have you heard anything from the police about this professor?” Mitch Bradley asked as he walked up the spiral staircase of his apartment and stepped into his office. Emily followed behind, clutching the photographs in the pocket of her black peacoat.
“No, nothing yet,” Emily said as she watched Mitch settle into the chair at his desk. He spun around, facing Emily as she sat down on the brown leather sofa across from him.
“Then what did you want to talk about?” Mitch asked, leaning back into his chair, rocking. Emily fought every single urge inside of her to not charge toward him and wrap her hands around his throat. How could he do this? How could he abuse their own daughter? How sick was he?
“I underestimated you, Mitch,” Emily said as Mitch stood up, making his way toward the small bar in the corner of his office.
“People tend to,” Mitch said as he reached up into a cabinet above the bar and grabbed a small scotch glass. Mitch slammed the glass on the top of the bar and grabbed a bottle of Jack, pouring it into the glass, straight up.
“I just can’t seem to wrap my head around all of this,” Emily said as she felt her blood boil inside of her.
“The police are doing everything they can, Emily. All we can do is hope and pray that she is all right, that she comes home,” Mitch said as he took a long sip from the glass in his hand, resting his back against the edge of the bar.
“I’m not talking about the disappearance, Mitch,” Emily said as her eyes lifted, settling on Mitch from across the room.
“Care to fill me in?”
“I’d love to,” Emily snarled as she stood and marched toward Mitch. Emily reached into her pocket and brought the photographs out. Emily thrust them at Mitch. The large stack slammed against his chest and flew through the air, cascading on the wooden floor below. “Tell me, Mitch! How long, huh? How fucking long?”
Mitch set his glass on the edge of the bar as he leaned down, grabbing one of the photographs. He stood, the photo trembling in his hand, his eyes scanning the picture. Six-year-old Blair, staring back at the camera, her naked body on full display. Mitch’s dark eyes lifted, locking on Emily in front of him.
“Emily—”
“Tell me, Mitch! How fucking long? How fucking long were you doing this? To OUR daughter!” Emily screamed as tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Emily, this isn’t what you think! Now, just calm down!” Mitch snapped as he threw the photograph on the floor.
“Calm down? You expect me to calm down, Mitch! It’s you! You’re in the photos! The hands on her body, they are wearing YOUR wedding ring! Take a look, Mitch!” Emily snarled as she leaned down, snatching a few pictures into her quivering hands. “Take a good fucking look!” Emily screamed as she shoved the photographs into his face, slamming them into his nose and cheeks.
“Stop it! Stop!” Mitch spat, swiping his hand against hers as the photos scattered. “I never hurt her!”
“You never hurt her?” Emily cried out. “Look at her face! Look at her tears! You raped our own daughter! YOU violated your OWN daughter!”
“If you would just listen and let me explain,” Mitch growled as he turned away from Emily, marching toward his desk.
“I’m done!” Emily screamed as she grabbed Mitch’s scotch glass from the bar and threw it at him. The liquor flew through the air, splattering on the floor, as the glass twirled.
“God damn it!” Mitch yelled as he ducked, the glass missing his head by a few inches. The glass smashed into the mirror above his desk as the shards flew through the air, clattering on the desk.
“I’m done listening! I’m done trying to understand why you do the fucking things you do, Mitch!” Emily yelled as she charged toward him.
“Emily, stop it!”
“Is that what she said, Mitch? Did she beg you to stop? Did she plead and cry and scream? How fucking sick and pathetic are you?” Emily snarled as she threw her hands forward, slamming them against Mitch’s chest. Mitch stumbled back a few feet, his fists clenching at his sides. “You are her father! You were supposed to protect her! You were supposed to keep her safe!” Emily cried, slamming her hands against his sturdy chest.
“What was I supposed to do, huh?” Mitch yelled as his hands lunged forward, wrapping around the sides of her shirt collar. Mitch dragged Emily toward him, their chests pressing together, as his eyes burned into her. “While you were drunk off your fucking ass! While you were passed out on the damn couch!”
“Get off of me!” Emily screamed as Mitch shook her violently, her shoes sliding along the wooden floor.
“I showed her more love than any other man will ever show her in her entire lifetime,” Mitch growled, his teeth grinding together between his thin lips. Emily’s nails then dug into the tops of Mitch’s hands, shredding into the tender flesh. Mitch then threw Emily back, shoving her away. Emily tumbled back, slamming on her side on the cold,
