Chapter One
“Melody!”
I cringe as I hear Daddy call my name in that tone that tells me I’m in trouble. “Coming, Daddy,” I call as cheerfully as I can from the back of the house where I’ve been sitting at my computer, scrolling through social media when I should have been writing.
I shove my pink swivel chair back from the desk and run down the hallway, not stopping until I reach the living room where Daddy is standing between the sofa and the coffee table. His head is cocked to one side, and he does not look pleased.
He points at the floor and the coffee table. “How many times have I told you to put your Barbies away after you’re done playing with them?”
I wince. “Sorry, Daddy.” I rush to where he’s standing and kneel down to pick up all the little shoes and clothes scattered on the floor where they fell from the coffee table. I carefully put them all in the clear plastic container they came out of, the one Daddy bought me so I could get organized.
He doesn’t move while I clean up. In fact, he reaches for the television remote and turns on the TV without sitting.
When I hear the sound of cartoons coming from the flat screen, I cringe and hurry to put the lid back on the container. I slowly lift my gaze to find him staring down at me. He turns the TV back off and sets the remote calmly on the coffee table.
“Sorry, Daddy,” I murmur yet again, knowing I’m in even bigger trouble now.
“What did I tell you to do today while I was at work?”
“Clean my bedroom and work on my research.”
“Is your bedroom clean?”
“No, Sir.” I lower my gaze. That part I actually forgot about.
“Did you have permission to play with Barbies or watch cartoons?”
“No, Sir.” I sink down so I’m sitting on my ankles. It wasn’t particularly smart of me to leave the TV on the cartoon channel when I turned it off. I should have put it back on the news channel Daddy had been watching that morning.
He holds out a hand.
I know what he wants, so I hand him the container of Barbies. Who knows when I might get them back? Probably not any time soon. “Let’s go.” He nods over his shoulder, and I push to standing to follow him begrudgingly down the hallway.
Daddy stops at the hall closet and pulls out a trash bag.
I swallow as we enter my bedroom. Tears start to fall that aren’t fake when Daddy hands me the trash bag. He’s still perfectly calm. He’s always calm. Even when he’s mad, he’s calm.
He crosses my bedroom, which isn’t easy since it’s littered with toys and clothes. When he reaches the rocking chair in the corner, he pushes my jammies from last night onto the floor and takes a seat. Leaning back, he crosses his legs and strokes his chin.
I’m not sure I’ve seen him quite this upset before, and by that, I mean, this eerily calm.
“Put everything on the floor in the bag, Melody.”
“Daddy?” I’m nervous. He’s never asked me to do something like this before. Is he going to throw away all my things?
He lifts a brow. “When you’re done, I’m going to spank you. After that, you’re going to stand in timeout for the rest of the evening. If you’d like to be permitted to eat dinner before bedtime, I suggest you get moving. You have five minutes to fill that bag.”
I suck in a breath and start running around the room. I hold the bag open and shove practically everything I own into it. That’s how messy my room is. Dolls and blocks and coloring books and markers and Legos and dress-up clothes. A lot of my regular clothes go into the bag too. Shoes and dresses and panties and jammies.
I wince as I put my favorite stuffed animals inside, including my monkey. In fact, I leave her for last and glance at Daddy. He’s got one brow lifted again and points at the bag.
My hands are shaking as I finish and hand him the black plastic trash bag. Daddy adds the box of Barbies to the bag and sets it aside. “Did you do any work today, Little one?”
I lick my lips. “I tried, Daddy. I couldn’t focus.”
He draws in a breath. “I know it’s summer vacation for you, baby girl, but you’re supposed to be working on your thesis. You were the one who told me you needed structure and guidance to get it done. You’ve finished all your classroom work. You’re on the home stretch. But you won’t get your master’s degree if you don’t finish your thesis, will you?”
“No, Daddy.” I rock forward and backward on my feet. “Are you going to throw my toys away?”
