She slowly accepted the truth. What she thought was the truth, guessed to be the truth. He said to move on that he was done. She is a follower of rules. His rules. She always followed and obeyed his wishes. This would not be any different.
She responded to a text from someone who was interested in her. She set a date. She didn’t want to. They had dated before. She wasn’t mean to him, but she didn’t pursue him. Something in the university had him contacting her again. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do. Go on with her life to prove she could survive without Daddy and hope he regrets cutting her loose. Or, crumble and spend the rest of her days alone and have him know that, and feel horrible about how he cut her loose. She wasn’t sure which way to go. When the text came in she made a snap decision and said yes to drinks, unsure of what would happen or how things would go.
She prepared for the date. She used different soap so she wouldn’t smell the same as Daddy liked her to smell. She did her hair differently so that it would look the way Daddy liked it. She reached for her make up bag and changed her mind. She went into the closet and found the old make up she no longer used because Daddy wasn’t a fan of it. She wore lipstick. Dark pink lipstick. Daddy hated lipstick or any kind. It was messy. She made sure it was thick and glossy.
She dressed in contradiction to everything that Daddy liked to see her in. She intentionally pulled out every piece of clothing he didn’t care for and that she had placed in the back of the closet so she wouldn’t wear it by mistake. The shirt he felt was too low for anyone other than him to enjoy. The shoes he gave her that he told her she should only wear for him, but that he never saw her in. The perfume he didn’t like because he liked her to smell like jasmine.
She looked in the mirror when she was done getting ready. Staring back at her was someone she didn’t recognize. She felt odd. She missed how she looked when she prepared for Daddy. She fought the tears. He had molded her to be what she was. The only recognizable thing that was once Toy was the blonde hair. He always said he felt she would be beautiful as a blonde. And so she was. The shade of blonde he wanted. She couldn’t change that. That part of Toy would have to go with her.
She walked to the door after hearing the door bell, wiping away the tear that had managed to escape her eye before it ran down her cheek ruining the painted face she had created. Reaching for the door knob she made one last attempt to leave Daddy and Toy in the bedroom where they stayed in the form of all the memories and gifts they had gathered together over the past 7 years.