Daddy's Little Whore
Daddy’s Little Whore – Part 46

KEIRA’S POV

I decided to keep seeing Dr. Kenswood as my therapist. It was time I got my life back on track and strive to be better. Mom would not have wanted me to turn out the way I did. I was doing this for her. I thought of all the things she would’ve wanted if she were still alive.

First things first, she would want me to take school seriously and improve on my grades. She would want me to live the best life even in her absence and not keep holding on to the past. It did more damage than I could have ever imagined.

Staying away from Clint was also on my list of priorities. It was for the best, I kept telling myself. The goal was to get better, with or without Clint’s help.

I would have to start getting used to Dr. Kenswood’s sessions. They were nowhere near Clint’s but it was still better than nothing.

I still had my urges, though. They were more controlled now compared to before, but it was there. I no longer felt the need to fantasise over every hot male I came across. But Clint was in my every thought.

It was almost like all of the hormones that had me wild to everyone and every time had been pushed to him. But that couldn’t make sense right?

I caught up on school work thanks to Natasha’s prodding. It helped me get up on my a*s even if it was annoying. She was the balance I needed in my messed up life.

We were currently in a class together and I doodled on my notes as the teacher rambled on and on about some topic. Natasha jabbed her elbow into my ribs for me to pay attention. The screen in front of me flashed with the changing slideshow my professor scrolled through, but my mind kept drifting, looking at my phone occasionally for any new text or missed calls.

I realised that no matter how hard I tried, he infiltrated my mind. Finding the cracks, he spilled in and he was all I could think about. But I had to stop, because every time he popped up in my head, I had the urge to ditch everything and go running back to him. Which was a bad idea. Clint had made it clear he wanted nothing more to do with me. I had to accept that fact and respect his decisions.

The rest of the day was a blur of assignments and studying, and I became so swamped that by evening, I found myself a tired, hollow cusp of my full self. It was the reason why I skipped a session with Dr. Kenswood. I got a call earlier today from the clinic’s receptionist reminding me of my appointment and I had come up with an excuse.

The man might be thinking I was not taking our sessions seriously and he could be right. It was not this way when I had Clint as my therapist. I even used to get there minutes before our sessions started. The only difference was, I was attracted to Clint and wanted something more than therapy.

My s****l urges drove me to him. But with Dr. Kenswood? There was nothing to get me eager to see him. I was like a child who needed something to keep my interest over the roof.

I was at the library when my phone rang in my pocket and my pulse raced faster. I did not know why I thought it was Clint and got a bit excited. I had vowed to stay away from him, then why was I hoping it was him whenever my phone buzzed?

I fished the phone from my pocket and the caller ID was an unsaved number.

Strange.

“Is this Miss Temple?” A voice asked when I picked up the phone. It was a female’s.

“Yes, it is.”

“I am calling from the medical centre to inform you that your father has suffered a heart attack and is currently under care. We need a guardian’s signature. So we would like you to come down to the hospital.”

I was stuck in the same spot for a while, frozen. Like it was all just a movie and the viewer on the other side of the screen hit pause. It was quiet, so quiet that I could almost hear my own heart beating faster.

The woman’s voice brought me back. Reminded me that it was real. That this was all real.

“Are you there?” The nurse tried to keep her voice as calm and professional as possible.

“Yes… Yes, I uhm…” My voice trembled. I struggled to get a hold of myself. “I will be there as soon as possible.”

I ended the call and braced myself on a wall for support. My stomach formed into tight knots and my legs also felt wobbly. Just when I thought I was beginning to get my life back together, life hit me with this bullshit.

Did it ever end?

Or was Life trying to test my maximum button?

Papa had never suffered a heart attack in all his years. He was strong for his age, and healthy too. Or was that all just a font? Had he been sick for a long time and I had not noticed?

He spent so much time with work and the golf club. Those were things that made him happy like he’d told me. So why did he have to get a heart attack if he was happy? None of this made sense.

No. Not Papa too. He was all I had left in this world. I wouldn’t be able to carry on if he left too. He was my only support system.

I could feel the world falling apart almost immediately. I tried to tell myself it was not a big deal. Papa was a fighter.

He could fight through this.

But I had gone down this path two times.

I knew perfectly well what it meant to want something and what reality had in store being completely different.

I wanted to cry and scream at the top of my lungs, but that would only earn me stares and glares from students in the library.

I somehow forced my legs to work on their own, dropping the books in my hands on the library’s shelves. I walked into Brendon on my way out and he immediately noticed my ashen stricken face.

“What’s wrong?” he questioned. “You do not look too well.”

“Nothing,” I lied. “I need to leave.”

Brendon nodded, but I did not miss his worried gaze before I walked out of the library. I still was not totally comfortable opening up to my friends and I felt guilty. It was something I needed to work on. I just did not want them to get involved in my mess.

Telling them stuff about my life means they had to get mixed up in the bad parts of it. The messy parts.

It was a cold five minutes as I headed to my car and turned on the ignition. Tears clouded my eyes but I immediately blinked them off, hitting the road with speed. I was in a haste to see him.

I spoke to Papa only recently and he sounded fine over the phone. I could not have suspected a thing. I was too wrapped up in my own shit and neglected him. He deserved better.

I had forgotten he was going through the same loss as I was and due to his age, it was taking more of a toll on him.

I felt like a selfish daughter. I thought only of myself and never of him. I had even gotten mad when he took mum’s things out the other day.

Crap. I needed to apologise. And he needed to stay alive for me to do that.

No, I wanted him to stay alive forever.

For me.