“Daddy? I don’t like this. I don’t wanna be sick.”
“I know, baby. But North and I are going to make you all better.”
“I really know nothing about caring about someone. I think I should?—”
“Stay where you are,” Daddy said firmly.
Wow.
He sounded so stern.
“Help me roll her over and then hold her there. She might try to move while I put these in her bottom.”
Huh?
She was carefully rolled over and the blankets pulled off her.
“No, cold,” she said with chattering teeth.
“Sorry, baby,” Daddy said. “This is to help you.”
Suddenly, her pants were pulled down and someone drew up her legs before warm fingers pushed the cheeks of her ass apart.
“Nooo,” she cried, tensing.
“Hold her,” Daddy said as something cool and wet was dabbed on her asshole.
Then she felt some pressure as something was pushed inside her.
“Nooo,” she moaned. Memories flashed back at her.
Bad, awful memories of Fergus doing something like this . . . only Fergus had hurt her.
It took her a while to realize that they weren’t hurting her. And she was already on her back with the blankets around her.
“Don’t cry, baby girl. I’m so sorry. I just need you to be better,” the voice crooned.
Not Fergus.
Fergus is dead.
“I don’t like that,” she cried.
“I won’t do it again if you take the pills when I give them to you.”
“Okay, Daddy. I will.”
“Good girl.”
Jared glanced over at North.
“How long has she been here?”
“Ahh, nearly forty-eight hours.”
“Has she showered? Changed her clothes?”
“No. She refused to.”
