I suppose this is as good a time as any to say that my stories posted on here will most likely be one parters unless I feel particularly inspired. Thank you for all the comments, even the not so nice ones lmao I am, above all, an attention whore :) as always, thank you for reading and constructive criticism always welcome!
Today was finally the day. I had done my waiting. Three years of waiting. I watched that little brat grow from adorable little angel, to prepubescent menace, to teenage nightmare. She went from unconditional love and adoration to thinly veiled annoyance to blatant insults. My house had changed too, from my safe haven, to a mess of slammed doors and tense silences. I didn't know how other parents did it. It was painful enough taking abuse from a child that wasn't even biologically mine. I didn't even want to consider what it would be like if she was.
Maybe I should explain. Eleven years ago, I met the love of my life, Janice, at a local farmer's market. She was perfect in every way. Long blonde hair, large blue eyes, kind personality, warm, inviting. We dated for six months before we eloped on a weekend trip to Vegas. Janice was a packaged deal though. She came with an eight-year-old round-faced munchkin, Gina. She was Janice's twin in appearance and temperament. Gina had been on the fence about me until I bought her a massive train set that weaved around her bedroom. Since then, we were practically inseparable.
This all started to change when her bio dad stepped into the picture. Gina was ten at the time and while Janice was wary at first, she saw no real reason to keep the two of them apart. Slowly, Gina evolved from my little girl to an emotional terrorist, parroting all the disgusting, awful things her father was putting in her head. She called her mother a gold-digging whore for having married me. She reverted to calling me Mr. Silvers instead of the Papa I'd grown accustomed to. My every request was met with 'You're not my dad!'. The one time I tried to tell her to clean her room, she slammed the door in my face and broke two of my fingers.
Our lawyers called it parental alienation syndrome and suggested that Janice make the executive decision to limit visitation. By then, the damage was done. Little thirteen-year-old, Gina, seemed to understand that she was untouchable. I couldn't discipline her as I wasn't her father, and her mother was too kind and compassionate to do more than ground her. The abuse continued for two years until Janice, in a fit of desperation, asked for a sit down with her ex-husband, intending to demand that he stop poisoning her child against her or risk visitation being halted completely.
I eyed him hatefully when he came to pick her up in his fancy sports car. I once again reassured Janice that I was a phone call away and kissed her goodbye. I watched them race down our winding driveway and, exactly twenty-two minutes later, watched two police cars race up.
The funeral was beautiful. Janice would have loved it. It was held in her favorite church, filled with color and music and her nearest, dearest friends. Inversely, the ex-husband had none of that. His was a morose affair held right there in the cemetery. Gina was inconsolable. I offered as much strength as I was able, but I was grieving too. Janice, after all, had been the love of my life.
Following the funeral, I kept dreading that someone would show up to take Gina away. It was an impractical thought as Janice's parents had died when she was a child and as far as I knew, she had no other family. But I held my breath for a solid month and only fully exhaled when no one made contact.
I was expecting Gina to mellow out, but her attitude became aggressively worse over time. At fifteen she took up smoking and would sneak out of the house at all hours. I was at my wits end. The death of her parents should have brought us closer together but instead this brat continued to mistreat me for the next three years, all the while living in my house, eating my food, running up my phone bill. She was my only connection to Janice so I didn't want to throw her out on her ass. But I went a little mad every time I remembered that it was me who would have to continue funding her lavish lifestyle after she turned eighteen.
Something inside me snapped a few weeks before her high school graduation. I had always considered myself a good person. I went to church on Sundays and paid my taxes. I took in this fucking child and raised her as my own. I never hit her no matter how much I wanted to. I kept paying for her fancy cellphones and private school tuition and international school trips. I did it all without whining or complaining but as far as I was concerned, the bill had come due. I contacted a few of my college buddies up in Silicon Valley and made one very expensive purchase that I planned to unveil at her graduation.
I said a silent prayer of forgiveness to Janice right before bed that night, but I wasn't going to beat myself up too much for what was about to happen. After all, Janice was long dead. There wasn't much she could do from beyond the grave. Anticipation coiled in the pit of my stomach.
Gina had been accepted to a few colleges both local and out of state, but I knew that after the events of her graduation, she wouldn't even consider furthering her education. I got everything ready and sat through the ceremony clapping like the dutiful father I was. Then, when came time for the parents to present their accolades and gifts, I stepped up. She had won a medal for gymnastics and the coach handed it to me with a grin.
"Congratulations, Gina." I told her as I passed the medal over her head. I wasn't sure what to expect but in the back of my mind I knew that if she showed an ounce of kindness or compassion I would call the whole thing off. To my disappointment and slight excitement, she scoffed, looking me dead in the eye.
