Sophia Sands

My Dad had an Accident and Now I Have to Marry Him

Copyright © 2026 Sophia Sands

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The Accident

We got the call at six, a while after we’d expected Dad to come home from work. The police told us he’d been in a car accident, and was in surgery at Mount Clay Hospital.

My heart stopped. I was in shock, unable to accept what they were saying at first. I had to ask them to repeat it, sure it was some kind of mistake. This was the worst kind of news you wanted to hear about a family member.

Mom was no use, she was so upset, so I drove us to the hospital, a numbness taking over. I kept going over every possible outcome. They didn’t tell us what happened or how serious it was, so I imagined every type of scenario.

Nothing prepared me for what was coming.

Dad had mainly hit his head, knocking it hard on the side window. The airbags hadn’t helped enough to prevent injury.

They did surgery to relieve swelling, but after many hours of waiting and crying, Mom sobbing while I tried to stay strong, they came out with the news.

He’d had some level of brain trauma, but they wouldn’t know what the symptoms would be until he was awake. They told us to prepare to have to care for him for a while, at least, and that some symptoms may not show until he was home and trying to get back into a routine. I struggled to take it all in. My dad and I were so close, what if he didn’t remember me?

We went in to see him, and his head was bandaged, gauze wrapped around his forehead. His skin was ashen, and his eyes unfocussed. He was just waking up after the surgery, and obviously groggy. We held his hands, and Mom sniffled while he just lay there, barely conscious. It seemed unreal—my big, strong father, lying there in a hospital bed, weak and barely aware. We sat with him for an hour before the doctor suggested we leave to give him time to rest and recover, so we went home after kissing his cheeks and promising him everything would be fine.

Nothing was fine.

The next week, he stayed in the hospital while they observed him. Mom and I dealt with insurance with the help of his workplace, which would take care of things financially. The other driver was at fault, and the auto insurance plus workplace insurance would pay for Dad’s medical care, and more, since he wouldn’t be able to work for some time. Maybe not ever.

Full recovery looked unlikely. Dad’s ability to speak was poor, and not getting better. He only used a few words, and the therapists at the hospital said we’d have to work with him to try to improve his communication. Mostly he just said my name, and Mom’s, and let us know if he was hungry or tired.

Mentally, he seemed a bit slow and out of it. Physically, he seemed uninjured, aside from the small scrape and incision in his scalp, and was able to walk and move normally, so that was a relief. But he didn’t seem inclined to take care of himself, despite being able to physically. He wasn’t catatonic or anything, just not fully himself.

Whenever we went to visit, Dad just stared at me. He didn’t look at Mom once, and she grew distant after a few days. I tried to talk to him, to get him to communicate more, but mostly he stayed quiet and watched me, a blank look on his face, or an occasional smile if I was trying to cheer him up. I’d hold his hand, and he’d clutch back tightly. He didn’t want to let go when I had to leave, sometimes grabbing my arm and looking distressed.

One other thing was happening with him that was tied to the brain trauma.

He was obviously aroused whenever I was visiting. I didn’t know if it was happening when I wasn’t there, but there was no way to avoid seeing it when I was there. They had him wearing scrub type pajamas, and the pants were tented with what looked like a huge cock. Not that I was looking, but his hand often went down to adjust his hard-on within his pants, never breaking eye contact with me. It was uncomfortable, but I told myself it was part of his injury, and not under his control. I tried to keep my eyes off of it, but every so often, I’d take a peek to check if it was still there, and yup, every time.

It must not have been comfortable to have a hard-on that long. I know men complained that they’d get blue balls if they were aroused too long without relief. I wasn’t sure if that was true, but it seemed possible.

I may be 20, but I had no experience with men. I wasn’t used to being around a man with an obvious erection, and I felt really uncomfortable, even though I knew it couldn’t be sexual, just something to do with the brain damage. I’d been kept close to home by my parents, and when I finished high school, I wasn’t sure what to do with my life. My parents didn’t like the idea of me moving out, so I just stayed home for the most part, picking up the odd part-time job. Dating was never something I’d considered, and I wondered if I ever would now. Someone would have to keep an eye on Dad when he came home, and Mom was at work all day, with long hours at her job in a cosmetics factory.

Dad had worked in a courthouse, in a good job as a court administrator. His colleagues sent us lots of cards and a gift of cash, and Judge Abrams, who he was close friends with, stopped by once to visit. He shook his head in pity when he saw how Dad wouldn’t speak much. It tore at my heart, to see how hopeless he appeared to anyone who saw him. It was obvious he wasn’t going to bounce back from this.

He made sure we got Dad’s workplace insurance sorted out, and his disability pension applied for. We wouldn’t have to worry about money, at least.

At the end of that week, they said Dad could come home. We’d take him in every other week to meet with a speech therapist, but otherwise, they said he’d be fine and just needed someone there to make sure he ate, washed, and was safe.

Mom didn’t even want to go pick him up. She talked to me last night, and told me she felt like she lost her husband in that accident, and didn’t know how to cope with it. She admitted that they’d grown apart the last few years, and she wasn’t too surprised ...