Anything He wants

DADDY TAKES ADVANTAGE WHILE I’M STUCK!

The clink of metal on metal is so distinct I realize what’s happening before I see it. My eyes fly to the kitchen sink, but it’s too late. My mother’s heirloom ring sinks below the darkness of the drain, swallowed by the entryway flaps.

To say my heart comes to a complete stop doesn’t do the feeling justice. I die for a few seconds, only brought back to life by the fear induced adrenaline coursing through my veins.

I look down the drain, but the ring is no where in sight. Just my fucking luck.

I knew I was playing with fire when I ransacked my mom’s jewelry cabinet. In my defense, she’s out of town, and she never even let me touch the ring, let alone wear it, even though she’s told me repeatedly it’s mine when I get married.

So, I mean, come on, it’s rightfully mine! I have no idea why she keeps it from me.

Well, I guess I do now. These clumsy hands of mine have gotten me into trouble throughout the years far more than I’d like to admit. I highly doubt it, but maybe she kept it from me for my own good.

Ugh, I should have just waited.

But I can’t just leave it there. There’s no way in hell I want her to know I took it without permission.

So down my hand goes, breaking into the slimy abyss of the sink. Oh god! I wish I could have washed it out first! It’s so gross in here! It’s not like there’s sludge, but you know the feeling: some places feel nasty whether there’s anything palpable inside or not. I close my eyes and breathe through my mouth, as if there’s a possibility of inhaling a pile of garbage. My fingers fumble until… yes! It’s the ring at my fingertips, although it’s just out of reach. I can touch it, but I can’t get enough of a grip to pull it into my palm. I struggle with it, until I resign myself to delve deeper in. I have to shimmy my hand and push in hard in order to get through the tight opening. My hand busts through with a sudden surge, and I’m free to grab the ring. I pull the ring toward me and tuck it into my hand. Oh, thank god!

I breathe a sigh of relief, but as I pull my hand up, it barely moves at all.

I dip down, let my hand slacken a little, and try again.

Oh shit! I can’t get my hand back through the opening!

In my panic, I completely forgot I put on one of my mom’s gold bracelets. How’d I not realize that was why it was so hard to get through the drain?! The goddamn bracelet had to be forced through, and now it’s snagging on the rim of the opening.

I try a number of things from reversing my shimmy to letting go of the ring and closing my hand. Neither works. I even try to force my hand through as hard as I can, damn the bracelet! I’ll destroy the thing if I have to in order to get out.

But the drain gives me nothing. I don’t know how I pushed the bracelet through. Is the opening larger at the top? Did I bend the bracelet so it no longer fits through. What the hell is going on down there… The front door opens, and to my horror, my stepdad walks into the kitchen.

He glances at me, but quickly diverts his gaze.

I realize why: I’m bent over the sink, and all I’m wearing is what I slept in, which is a small pair of red panties and a super loose shirt hanging over one shoulder.

It’s not like me to be dressed like this around the house, but I didn’t expect anyone to be home anytime soon. I sure as hell didn’t expect to be trapped either!

He clears his throat. “Hey, babygirl, so what are you up to?” He sets his

groceries down on the kitchen table, taking his jacket off and setting it on the chair.

He’s not looking my way, so he doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. I shake my head, “Uh, nothing’.”

He nods, opening his bags and putting the groceries away.

While he’s occupied, I take a deep breath, continuing my efforts to free myself. I pull and yank, release and tighten, twist and turn, but nothing works. I’m making no progress whatsoever.

I sigh, and this gets his attention. I guess I have no choice but to ask for his help.

“What’s up?”

“Umm, daddy?” My voice is tiny and saccharine. “Could you help me?”

“With what?” He asks, looking my way as he piles boxes in the pantry.

“My hand’s stuck.”

His face contorts. It’d be incredibly funny if I weren’t in my predicament. “Stuck? How?”

“In the sink. Here, come look.”

He stands next to me, peering at my hand disappearing below. “You can’t pull it out?”

I sigh. “No, daddy, of course I can’t. I wouldn’t be standing here like a doofus if I could.”

He yanks on my hand, and I give out a yelp, the bracelet pulling down on my wrist and doing its damnedest to break my hand.

“Daddy, stop!” I cry out. “I’ve already tried that!”

“Well, you have to get it out.”

“Yeah, I know that, thanks!” I shout.

He gives me this look, like, don’t give me that tone. But he doesn’t say anything, letting it slide as he focuses on the task at hand. Instead, he grabs the bottle of dish soap.

“Maybe if we get some soap on the hand, it’ll slide out.”

“I doubt it, but we can try.” He doesn’t know about the bracelet, but I don’t have the courage to tell him right at this moment. About that, or the ring. Maybe he can get me out and I can somehow get away with the ring and bracelet without him noticing.

He squeezes the bottle and a stream of slimy soap spills down my wrist.

He proceeds to lather it down my arm.

When he’s got me good and ready, he slowly pulls on my hand, carefully working on extracting me. The soap, though, isn’t doing anything, as it’s not able to get down far enough to reach the part of my hand that’s stuck.

Daddy reaches for the faucet, but I cut him off, “No, don’t turn on the water!” I grab the ring below me, making sure it doesn’t get washed down the plumbing.

Daddy looks at me, his face slowly morphing from confusion to suspicion. “Why? We need to get the soap wet so we can wash it down your wrist.”

“No, I just…” I can’t think of anything to say, any excuse to make him back off.

“Babygirl,” he says, his tone stern, “why’s your hand stuck in here?”

I shrug, “I don’t know.”

“Did you drop something down there?”

“Maybe.”

“What was it?”

I cough. “Mom’s ring.”

His jaw loses all tension as it falls slack. “Your grandma’s wedding ring?!”

I nod, silently staring at my hand, focusing on something that’s not judging me at the moment.

“What the hell were you doing with her ring?”

“I was just trying it on, I swear.”

He shakes his head. He’s clearly angry and disappointed, rubbing his

chin in frustration. “You know you’re not supposed to go through your mom’s

stuff.”

“Come on, daddy, she never lets me have any fun.”

“You think this is fun?!”

“No, no,” I quickly backtrack. “It’s not like I thought I was going to lose the ring.”

“Goddamn it, babygirl.” I flinch at the tone of his voice. “This is exactly why you shouldn’t go through someone else’s stuff. What do you think your mother’s going to say?”

My face goes red. “Daddy, you don’t have to tell her. It’ll just make her

angry.” As scary as daddy is, mom’s got a temper on her like the devil.

“Let’s

just keep it between us. Just help me get it out and I’ll put it back. Please don’t tell her!”

He’s fuming, shaking his head as he bites back his words. He stares at me for a moment, and turns around, walking out toward the garage. “Uh, daddy?” I whine, tilting my head to see where he went. “You can’t just leave me here!”

I struggle against the sink, pulling as hard as I can, fighting with all my might to free myself. Panic runs through me as I imagine daddy’s left me to fend for myself.

But he comes right back, holding his tool box. “What are you doing?” I ask.

“The last thing I wanted to do. It’s a pain in the ass, but now I know your mom’s ring is in the sink basin, so I have to remove the whole goddamn thing to get it out.”

I blush. God, why didn’t I think of that?

He stoops below, getting under the sink. Quickly, he unscrews-or whatever he’s doing-the plumbing below the sink. I can actually feel the housing pull away and my hand come in contact with the outside air.

The disgust in his voice is palpable. “Okay, so, you’re also wearing your mom’s bracelet. That’s why you’re stuck.”

“Sorry, sorry. I just forgot to tell you.”

“Where’s the ring?”

“In my hand.”

“Drop it,” he commands.

I open my fist and the ring falls from it. It makes no sound, so I assume it lands in daddy’s hand. I’m still stuck, but the sense of relief I feel knowing my mom’s ring is safe at least can’t be discounted.

Daddy stands up behind me, looking the ring over. “At least it doesn’t look like it’s damaged.”

He stares at me and I look away, not wanting to meet his scorn. “I told you, it’s fine, daddy.”

“No,” he says, “it’s not. You’re lucky, that’s all I have to say.”

“Well, do you think you can get me out?”

“Yeah, I can get you out. I just need to unclasp the bracelet. But tell me why I should? Why shouldn’t I just leave you there for a while?” I titter, “Come on, daddy. You’re joking, right? Don’t play around like that.” I give my hand a yank for good measure, but it makes no more movement than before.

He puts mom’s ring in his pocket. “We might not be telling your mom about any of this, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve a punishment.

How long do you think you could stand there?”

I swallow, a painful lump in my throat. He can’t be serious! That’s like torture, and I don’t think I could tolerate it for very long. “Okay, okay,” I say, “I deserve a punishment, I know, but you can’t leave me here. I’ll go crazy trapped here.”

“But you need to be punished.”

“I know, I know, whatever you want to do, but please don’t leave me here.”

“Okay,” he smirks, his stubble turning the small gesture into something far more devious, “I won’t leave you here, for long.”

“For long?”