"Let go of me, you're nothing but a whore, get me? A whore! The daughter of a whore! I am not your father!"
The words echoed in the small, dimly lit room, louder than the silence that followed. My chest tightened, the weight of each insult settling like stones in my heart. My knees buckled, but I stood still—frozen by the venom in his voice, the finality in his rejection.
For years, I held onto the hope that somehow, despite everything, he would see me differently. That deep down, there was something worth saving in his eyes. But hearing him now, with such hatred, tore apart the fragile thread I had been clinging to.
I wanted to scream, to fight back, but all I could do was stand there as the words lingered between us like a wound too deep to heal.
He wasn’t just disowning me. He was cutting me down to my very core, making sure I knew exactly what I meant to him—nothing.
My father wasn’t supposed to be perfect, but I never thought he'd be the one to break me like this.
---
I drank, drank, and drank my sadness away. That's what they say, right? Drinking alcohol can somehow lessen the pain, huhuyuu. I've never tried it before. I wanted my father to be proud of me, to see his daughter as pure and strong. But now? Now, I wished I had never believed my mother. She told me my father was a superhero to her.
I can't believe this. I can’t. All my life, I tried finding him, my dear father—the one who left my mother without a second thought. My father who once loved her whole-heartedly, or so I thought. The father I admired as a child. The father I once loved.
I feel so betrayed. Is this really my life? Why is everything so unfair?
I have no family left. My mother died when I was just 15, and since then, the burden on my heart has never let up. I quit school, thinking I could at least find peace. But peace never came.
"Hey~ mind sitting here with you?" A deep husky voice echoed in my system
"sure."
Until I met someone.......
I didn’t think much of it then, but little did I know how much that moment would change things.
---
When I woke up, I was in a room—exquisite, luxurious even. The air was thick with unfamiliar scents, and I wasn’t alone. My head pounded as the events of the night before rushed back in fragmented pieces. I shifted under the covers, groggy, and then I heard it.
"OH MY GOD, WHAT THE—GET AWAY FROM ME!"
A scream pierced through the air, sending a sharp jolt through my body. My eyes snapped open as I turned to see a man standing at the foot of the bed, dramatically clutching his chest like he had just seen a ghost.
“WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING. IN MY ROOM?! This is not happening, oh my god, oh my god!”
His voice was pitched high with panic, his eyes wide as he waved his arms around frantically, almost tripping over his own feet. I blinked, trying to make sense of the situation.
“I—uh—” I stammered, completely disoriented, but before I could say another word, he screamed again.
“NO. NO. NO. You are not about to tell me you don’t know how you got here!” He pointed an accusatory finger at me. “This is a nightmare! A literal nightmare!”
A gay man... I had... My first... Sex......... Stolen.... By.... A... Gay man.....
