Free Sample
Preview from chapter one
Daddy Daughter Rape Party
Nym Hexel
The apartment buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses, the air thick with the scent of perfume and the taste of cheap wine. Ava's place wasn't the biggest, but it was hers, a sanctuary from the world outside. Tonight, though, her sanctuary was filled with her friends, their voices rising and falling in a rhythm that mimicked the beat of the music blasting from the speakers.
Ava leaned against the doorframe, a glass of wine in her hand, and watched them. She could feel the energy of the party, the reckless freedom that came with being young and wild.
Her friends were a blur of laughter and movement, their voices a cacophony of drunken chatter. Ava's eyes scanned the room, taking in the chaos with a sense of detachment. She was the observer, the one who watched from the sidelines, but tonight, she felt a strange restlessness. She wanted to be part of the madness, to lose herself in the music and the laughter.
Suddenly, the door creaked open, and the noise of the party seemed to die down. All eyes turned to the doorway, and Ava felt a chill run down her spine. Martin, her father, stood there, his stern face a stark contrast to the carefree atmosphere.
His brown hair, with silver streaks at the temples, was dishevelled, as if he'd run his hands through it one too many times. His grey eyes scanned the room, taking in the mismatched furniture, the faded posters, and the grimy windows. Ava could see the disapproval in his gaze, the thinly veiled contempt.
"Ava, a word," he said, his voice cutting through the music like a blade. He didn't have to say it twice. She pushed off the counter and weaved her way through the crowd, her friends' eyes following her with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
As she passed, she could hear their whispers, feel their stares, but she didn't stop, didn't acknowledge them. She was on a path, one she couldn't control, not when it came to Martin.
He was waiting for her in the kitchen, his back to the sink, arms crossed over his chest. The room was small and Ava could feel the weight of his gaze as she walked in.
"What are you doing here, Dad?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She could see the tension in his jaw, the tightness of his mouth.