Daddy's Girl : An Extreme Psychological Horror

by Anton Palmer

  “And do you want to burn in the fires of Hell for ever and ever?”

  “No, Daddy!”

  “No! So - when I ask you if you were snooping in Daddy’s special wooden box – the wooden box in Daddy’s wardrobe that I have told you time and time again, never to go near - you are going to tell me the truth. Aren’t you?”

  Victoria looked at the floor and nodded her head, tears falling from her eyes.

  “Look at me, Victoria.”

  The child turned her gaze back to her father, her brown eyes wet and shiny.

  “Look me in the eyes and tell me the truth - did you go snooping in Daddy’s special box today?”

  “No, Daddy, I didn’t...”

  “Victoria…?”

  “It wasn’t me. I promise!”

  “Bitch!” Her father leapt out of his chair, “You lying little bitch!”

  He grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet, the warm towel falling away, and pulled her, naked, into the kitchen, the hard floor-tiles cold under her bare feet. He fumbled with the key in the basement door, his large hands trembling with rage.

  “No, Daddy! Please, Daddy…I’m sorry!”

  “It’s too late for sorry, girl. You had your chance to tell the truth and you chose the way of the Devil. Now I have to punish you for your sins so that Satan doesn’t come and take you to burn in Hell!”

  He yanked the door open hard, the handle banging into the kitchen wall, knocking a chip out of the plaster. The open door revealed a three foot deep pantry, its side walls fixed and solid, the rear wall a fake. Three wooden shelves adorned it, each filled with bags of flour, sugar, jars of jam and other preserves, all held secure by a two-inch high ledge that ran around the outer edge of each shelf. Victoria watched through terrified eyes as her father ran his fingers behind the ledge of the top shelf, searching for the switch that would open the false wall.

  Please God let it be broken…please God let it be broken.

  The child gave a whimper as a soft click indicated the switch had released the door. God had ignored her pleas.

  And why shouldn’t he?

  It was only right that God should side with her father.

  She had lied.

  She was the sinner.

  Her father’s fingers pulled on the shelf ledge swinging the false wall towards him and dragged the terrified girl crying and screaming down the wooden steps into the gloomy subterranean room.

  A chain was slung over a joist in the ceiling, handcuffs hanging from each of the two ends. Victoria’s father clamped his daughters wrists in the cuffs, forcing her to stand with her arms stretched up high above her head. Pulling a small bible from his pocket, he flipped through the well-thumbed pages before locating the desired passage - “He that spareth his rod hateth his son: but he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes – The book of Proverbs Chapter 13 Verse 24”

  The girl screamed over and over, shaking her head from side to side, yanking furiously at her chains as she watched her father unbuckle the thick leather belt from around his waist. Quickly stepping around behind her, he whipped the leather strap against Victoria’s bare buttocks.

  She squealed in pain.

  “Say you are sorry for telling lies…” Her father yelled at her, spit flying from his lips.

  “I’m sorry for telling lies!” The child cried.

  Her father whipped her a second time. “Say – ‘I’m sorry for telling lies, Daddy!’”

  “I’m sorry for telling lies, Daddy.”

  The belt bit into her flesh again. “Say – ‘I’m sorry for telling lies, Jesus!’”

  “I’m sorry for telling lies, Jesus.”

  Her father lashed the leather across her backside once more.

  “Say – ‘I’m sorry for telling lies, God!’”

  “I’m sorry for telling lies, God.”

  The man stood still for a moment, breathing hard, the vein at his temple throbbing and pulsating as the anger seeped out of his body. Replacing the belt around his waist, he looked his young daughter in her glistening wet eyes and gave her a gentle smile.

  “Good girl. Hopefully I have done enough to stop the Devil coming to take you to burn in Hell tonight. Say thank you, Daddy!”

  “Thank you, Daddy.” Her words were barely audible above her sobs.

  “You can spend the night down here, alone, in the cold and the dark, to think about the sin of telling lies. The morning is a new day and we can forget tonight ever happened.”

  He kissed her forehead, “Goodnight, Victoria.”

  “Goodnight, Daddy.” He climbed back up the steps to the kitchen, turned off the dim basement light and locked the door behind him.

  3

  As she finished wiping herself, Victoria heard the ladies-room door open and two of her co-workers enter. They were in mid-conversation and laughing loudly.

  “Have you seen what she’s done to herself?”

  Victoria recognised Mandy’s voice.

  “No – what?”

  “She’s only gone and strapped her tits to her chest!”

  “She’s done what?”

  “Well I’m not exactly sure what she’s done, but her tits have gone…so I’m guessing she’s taped them down or used bandages or something…”

  Victoria felt her stomach churn and her pulse quicken as she realised the women were gossiping about her.

  “What the fuck for?”

  “I’m presuming it’s something to do with yesterday. This guy came to her window and he was clearly into her - could barely keep his eyes off her tits. When I told her, she got all funny about it.”

  “Oh hang on – Victoria! Now I know the one you mean…the religious one…the wacko! Oh poor you, fancy having to work with her!”

  “Oh she’s alright – just have to watch your P’s and Q’s, that’s all. It’s sad really - I mean she’s got tits to die for, she doesn’t do anything with her hair except tie it back, she doesn’t wear a single bit of slap…yet she’s absolutely gorgeous. But it’s totally wasted on her!”

  Victoria heard the other girl laugh. “So…do you think she’s a lesbian or something?”

  “Well no…I don’t think she’s anything.”

  “I bet she’s a virgin. In fact, I bet she’s never even had so much as a proper kiss!”

  Victoria couldn’t stand to listen to their gossiping any longer. She flushed the loo and walked quickly, her face bright red, out of the bathroom without even stopping to wash her hands.

  The two women stood, stunned into embarrassed silence, and watched her leave. As the door swung closed they stared at each other for a few seconds before both of them burst into laughter.

  “Oh shit! Do you think she heard us?”

  “Duh! She’d have to be deaf not to.”

  “Well…it’s ok for me, but you have to go and work with her.”

  “Hmmm…I’m going to have to try and make up with her. Wish me luck!”

  “Yeah – good luck with that!”

  ***

  Mandy returned to her cashier’s window.

  Victoria was serving a customer, her dark blue blouse sagging over her flattened chest. The autonomic chirpy greeting, which all the cashier’s had been coached in, was still in evidence, but there was no smile. Her face was flushed and a knot of muscle was clearly visible as her jaws clenched in anger.

  Mandy sighed and pressed a button in front of her.

  “Cashier number 4”.

  The recorded voice oozed out of the speaker to her left and the next customer in the queue shuffled up to her window…

  There was a palpable atmosphere between the two women for the rest of the day, with not a single word being exchanged - unless it was strictly work related. At five o’clock, they pulled the blinds down on their windows ready to go home. Mandy followed her colleague out of the rear entrance and into the bank’s small carpark, Victoria striding quickly across the loose gravel towards her car, keen to get into the vehicle without any contact with othe
r employees.

  Just as she reached for the door handle she heard her name being called and, despite her desire for no interaction, she couldn’t bring herself to ignore the voice – that would be rude.

  She turned and faced Mandy. “Yes?”

  “Victoria…look, I’m really sorry about earlier…” Mandy looked down at the ground for a second as she saw Victoria’s eyes begin to glisten with tears. “I know how it must have sounded, but I wasn’t laughing at you – I was just concerned.”

  “Your friend was laughing at me.”

  “Oh that’s just Anna. Don’t worry about her - she can be a bit of bitch sometimes.”

  Victoria’s heart abruptly pounded with fear at the ‘B’ word.

  Do it, Bitch!

  She took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself, aware of the cold, clammy perspiration suddenly beading on her forehead.

  “But why were you talking to her about me?”

  “I was worried about you. You’ve…done something to your…breasts.”

  Victoria looked down at her blouse, the front of which now hung empty and loose. “I’ve bandaged them up to flatten them.”

  “But why? Because of that guy yesterday?”

  Victoria nodded.

  “But, Victoria, you are a beautiful woman with a great figure – why would you want to do that?”

  “It’s better than the alternative – believe me.”

  “What do mean, ‘the alternative’?”

  “Nothing. Forget it.” Victoria suddenly burst into tears.

  “Oh Vic…come here…” Mandy hugged her colleague tightly, allowing her to sob into her shoulder. A moment passed, other members of staff glancing at them curiously before Mandy finally pulled away. “Look, why don’t you give me a lift back to my place and have something to eat? We can have a girly chat and put the world to rights…”

  Victoria sniffed and shook her head.

  “Oh come on. Just for an hour or so. Please…?”

  ***

  Victoria followed Mandy through the white-painted front door of her small apartment which led straight into the kitchen. Her attention was immediately caught by the stack of dirty dishes piled up high in the sink, the crustiness of some of them giving the impression that they had been there for a number of days. Mandy noted the look of distaste on Victoria’s face. “Oh…sorry about the mess. Those are my boyfriend’s dishes – I’m leaving them for him to do, the lazy git.”

  “You live with your boyfriend?” Victoria struggled to hide the hint of shock in her voice.

  “Oh don’t worry, Mark’s out for the evening and won’t be back for hours.”

  Mandy nervously followed her colleague’s eyes as Victoria’s gaze roved round the small room, finally landing on the items of underwear drying on the radiator. She speedily scooped up several of her skimpy thongs and a couple of pairs of Mark’s boxers. As she turned and thrust the offending garments into a drawer, Victoria frantically grabbed at the work-top, suddenly feeling faint.

  Those…things weren’t underwear! At least not in any practical sense. Those flimsy items were designed purely to inflame men’s desires, to focus their attention on a woman’s dirtiest and most un-Godly of places. And Mandy - may the Lord forgive her - wasn’t even married.

  Quickly ushering Victoria into the living room, Mandy almost pushed her into an armchair as she invited her to sit down. “Do you want something to drink? Tea, coffee…glass of wine?”

  “Water will be fine. Thank you”

  Mandy returned from the kitchen a moment later with a glass of tap water in one hand and a chilled white wine in the other. As she offered the water to Victoria, she raised her own glass, “You don’t mind if I partake do you?”

  Victoria shook her head.

  After all, Jesus himself turned water into wine for the wedding guests at Cana.

  Knocking back her drink in one gulp, Mandy headed back to the kitchen and Victoria heard a bottle glugging as her co-worker poured herself another glass.

  Mandy returned, shutting the door to the kitchen behind her. Sitting in the armchair opposite Victoria, she sipped at her drink, this time with a little more restraint.

  Victoria took a sip of her own drink and gazed self-consciously around the living room, searching for something to talk about. She had never been good at socialising, at small talk, and felt the lengthening lull in conversation weighing heavily upon her. As her discomfort began to show in her face with a warm blush creeping across her cheeks, Mandy broke the silence.

  “So, what do you normally do with yourself after work?”

  Victoria shook her head slowly, “I just go home…”

  “And watch TV till bedtime?”

  “No, we…” she suddenly corrected herself, “I don’t have a TV.”

  Mandy’s face lit up with astonishment. “No TV? So what do you do all evening? And - you said ‘We’ - is there a secret man that you haven’t told me about?”

  “I lived with my father. He didn’t allow TV. Just the radio…sometimes.”

  “Your father…?”

  “He’s dead. He died five years ago…a heart attack.”

  “Oh sh…I’m so sorry, Vic. I had no idea.”

  Silence again filled the room for a moment, neither of the women knowing quite what to say. Mandy took a larger swallow from her wine glass, the sense of awkwardness thick in the air.

  Victoria was the first to speak. “I was eighteen. My uncle took care of the funeral then he arranged for me to start work at the bank – he was acquainted with someone high up in head office.”

  “So…you just live at home - alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “You never thought about buying a TV? I mean, after you father…passed on.”

  “No. Father said television was filled with sin. A gateway straight to Hell.”

  Mandy choked on her wine, trying to stifle a giggle as she suddenly thought about the TV shows that she and Mark usually watched – programmes full of sex, murder, violence, adultery. She couldn’t really argue with her colleague, the box was full of sin. But, she thought with a sly grin, it was the sin that made it exciting.

  She composed herself and quickly changed the subject. “Why don’t you come out with us tomorrow night? Anna’s organising a surprise birthday do for one of the girls in loans and mortgages - Jane, I think her name is...the big ‘40’. It’s only going to be an informal do in a pub in town. D’you fancy it? It would be a good chance for you to get out of the house and get to know some of the other bank staff a bit better…what d’you say?”

  Victoria felt her heart race, sweat beginning to form on her forehead. She wanted to say no. Point blank refuse. But in the back of her mind, she knew that if she ever wanted to meet a man, to get married, to have a family…a child who would love her unconditionally, then she was going to have to get out and meet people. If she stayed at home – alone – night after night, then she’d end up being a lifelong spinster.

  Lonely. Childless. Loveless.

  Despite all her natural inclinations to refuse, she found herself nodding her head and accepting the invitation with a broad smile.

  “That’s great, Vic!” Mandy could hardly believe she had agreed. She figured she’d have to work much harder to persuade her shy and retiring colleague to come to the party. “If you give me directions to your house, I’ll pick you up at 7.30.”

  Victoria told Mandy how to get to her home.

  “I’m so pleased.” Mandy beamed with pride. “I can introduce you to everybody, show them that you’re…”

  “That I’m what?” Victoria’s jaw suddenly clenched tight as she recalled the conversation in the toilet earlier that day, “Not a ‘Wacko’?”

  Mandy’s face flushed. “I was going to say - a beautiful, wonderful human being. But, ‘Not a Wacko’ is also good.”

  She laughed, and Victoria, much to her own surprise, chuckled along with her.

  4

  Despite the fact it was only
February, and the heating was always turned off at night to save money, the room was warm. Victoria threw her blankets off her bed and hitched her long nightdress further up her legs in a bid to cool down, tossing and turning in her sleep as the temperature in her bedroom continued to rise.

  As a slick film of perspiration began to form on her skin, she suddenly awoke. An odour of burning, rotten eggs filled her nostrils and she coughed as the smell clawed at the back her throat. She scanned around the room, allowing a few seconds for her eyes to become accustomed to the darkness, seeking the source of the foul stench. As her vision focused on the wall beyond the foot of her bed, she blinked as she saw the floral wallpaper begin to blur and ripple. Air bubbles, trapped beneath the paper, started to expand, the wall turning brown around them as they melded into bigger and bigger blisters.

  Victoria sat bolt upright in her bed and stared at the wall as the boiling eruptions grew ever larger, the brown marks smouldering and darkening to black, the scorched outline of a man becoming clearly discernible amongst the patterns of flora. As she watched, the blisters suddenly burst open, a wave of hot, stinking, sulphurous air smothering her as a dark form stepped out of the wall - into her bedroom.

  He stood six feet tall at the very least – his thick, leathery skin, red and glistening. Yellow-brown remnants of smoke drifted from his head and shoulders, dispersing quickly into the air.

  Victoria’s limbs were rendered numb with terror, her body paralysed, her breath catching in her throat as her fifteen year old heart pounded behind her ribs. The figure stepped forward, towards the end of her single bed, its acrid stench filling the small room. Leaning over, he placed his huge hands on the mattress, sharp black nails raking the white cotton bed-sheet. Looking Victoria straight in the eye, the figure stuck out his long, forked tongue and laughed.

  Victoria knew at once what this being was. Her father had told her about them hundreds of times. Told her they would come for her if she did not follow the word of God.

  It was a demon. A demon straight from the deepest, darkest circles of Hell!