Fiona tossed and turned in her sleep as the same nightmare she had been having for the past two months once again played front and centre in her nocturnal musings. It was always the same. The other car came racing at them, baring down on them in the dark night and heavy rain. The rain was so heavy that it obscured the other vehicle, but it did nothing to hide the blinding headlights coming closer and closer by the second.
She remembered that he had swerved their car so his side, the driver's side, would take the impact when the two cars surely collided. He had in fact taken the full impact of the crash. The crunch of metal on metal had been sickening. Their car had started to spin wildly and Fiona heard nothing but the rising crescendo of the engines whining, and tires flying across wet asphalt.
Then there had been nothing but blackness until she awoke in a hospital bed.
It had just be an accident on a dark rain slick country road. Accidents happen all the time. Lots of people walk away from accidents. However, Keith had died, and so had the driver of the other vehicle. Fiona had been the only survivor, but she didn't walk away unscathed. She was badly injured with sprained ankle, broken arm, broken ribs, head trauma, whiplash and of course numerous bumps, bruises, cuts and abrasions.
Her broken body was healing, but there was one more part of her that had broken. A part that wasn't so easy to repair. Fiona had a broken heart. She had loved Keith, and they had planned to be married in the near future. They wanted to buy a nice house in the country, and have all sorts of children. Or maybe just two.
Gone. All of their plans and dreams were just gone. He was gone. She lived on, but felt empty and hopeless. Broken, she was broken.
The hospital had kept her for a few weeks, and then they released her to her parents. Fiona's mother and father, Lila and Vince, had brought their daughter to their home and tucked her safely into her old bedroom with it's lilac colored walls. They would later arrange to have her apartment cleared out, and her things placed in storage. It seemed senseless to keep paying for an apartment she wouldn't be returning to for a long while.
They fussed over her and took great care of her. She tried to be brave for them, but she felt so empty and had so little to offer them. Some friends and family came with to visit. They wore their platitudes like armor as they came to sit beside her. Everyone was gentle. Their voices were gentle, their expressions, and even their touches. It was as if they felt she might shatter at any moment, and Fiona couldn't guarantee that she wouldn't.
Some would tell her she would heal and be strong again. Others would be so bold as to tell her that she would meet someone new in good time. She hated their words, but rather than rage and tell them they were liars she stayed silent and pretended not to hear them. Often they would just pat her hand gently before leaving awkwardly. She wasn't sorry to see them go.
Fiona slept a lot, watched mindless television, and read a few books her friends brought. Her body was getting stronger everyday, and she knew it was only a matter of time before her parents insisted she leave her room and join the real world again. Fiona wasn't sure how to even do that, and had even less interest in trying.
It was late one evening when Fiona was tucked into her bed in her dark room. She was wide awake and thinking. No matter how hard she tried to keep her mind away from that one fatal night, it kept running back there. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. There was a soft knock on her bedroom door. She was certain it was her mother coming to make some fuss or another. She didn't respond to the knock. The door opened slowly with a very faint creek, and Fiona barely concealed her growl of irritation.
"Fiona?" The voice was her father's, not her mother's. This was a surprise.
He stepped into the dark room and closed the door behind him. He didn't turn the light on.
"Are you awake sweetheart?" he whispered softly.
"No." Fiona answered equally softly.
Her father chuckled softly as he moved to the bed and sat down beside her. "Baby..."
She didn't respond. This was out of character for her father. He wasn't really good with emotions. He hadn't avoided her per se, but when they were in the same room he never brought up the accident. He rarely asked her how she was or offered empty words of encouragement. To be honest she appreciated it. He loved her and always had, but was never terribly good at expressing himself.
He wouldn't lecture her though, and for that she was thankful. Remaining silent, he stood and pulled off his robe. Fiona watched him in the mostly dark room. In the minimal light from the window she could see he wore shorts and a t-shirt. He pulled back her blanket and got into the bed beside her. Fiona didn't protest. She was too surprised to protest. He wrapped his arms around her and just hugged her close. Her father kissed the top of her head and just held her.
It felt so incredibly good to just be held. Fiona felt tears splash onto her cheeks. She hadn't actually cried in a long while, but somehow she couldn't stop them from falling. Still her father said nothing, and just held her. A while later she fell into a deep dreamless sleep. When she awoke the next morning he was gone. Had it just been a dream?
This became a regular occurrence. It wasn't nightly, but several times a week her father would come into her room later at night and just hold her close. He'd let her cry if she needed to. The crying became less and less. Fiona felt safe for the first time in a long while when her Dad held her close.
She would snuggle close to him and sometimes place her head against his chest so she could listen to his heartbeat. It would always sooth her. One night they were snuggled close, and Fiona couldn't even put into words what emotion and need came over her. She found herself tilting her face up to his. She sought his mouth with her lips. She shifted as near to him as possible, wanting to feel her body so close to the warmth from his. Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized that this was inappropriate, but she couldn't seem to stop herself.
She kissed her father that night like no daughter is meant to kiss her own father. She had pressed her lips softly at first. She could feel his hesitation and surprise, but she pressed on. She moved her tongue between her lips and brushed it over his lips. He resisted and didn't really kiss back at first, but then all at once they were kissing passionately.
The kiss went deep and swirled with heady desires that they both knew didn't belong there. Heat rose in both of them making the room feel impossibly warm. Their hearts beat hard and fast and when their lips parted they panted for air. Fiona felt her father's cock rigid and hard against her, but then felt suddenly cold as he quickly pulled himself from the bed and sprinted quickly out of her room.
Fiona touched her lips. They felt swollen from their kiss. She felt both elated and ashamed all at the same time. However, for the first time in a long time she also felt a small glimmer of feeling alive again.
Fiona's father didn't return for a week. In passing during the day they behaved as they always had. She felt more and more ashamed of her behavior. She wanted to apologize to him and try to explain it had just been a mistake. She had let her emotions get the better of her and it clouded her judgement. She hadn't meant to kiss her own father as she had!
He had come to her and offered her silent support when she had needed it most. He had done for her what no one else had been able to do. Holding her and letting her just feel safe, even for a short period of time, had made such a big difference for her. And she had ruined it all by kissing him in a way that was beyond wrong.
It had been one week to the day. Fiona looked at the clock radio on her bedside table. It was late, and it was normally about this time that her father would have come in. She had figured out he seemed to wait for her mother to be sleeping before he came to her room. Most likely this was because it was easier than explaining it all to his wife. He certainly hadn't been doing anything wrong...until Fiona had gone and ruined it all by kissing him.
When the soft knock sounded on her bedroom door, Fiona was sure it had been her own heart she was hearing. She didn't say anything, but held her breath. The door opened slowly, and her father came in. He closed it softly behind himself, and in the quiet of the night Fiona heard him turn the little privacy lock on the handle. She bit her lower lip.
