Breaking Daddy's Rules
She dared him to punish her, but she did not expect the pain.
She was demonstrative and purposeful in breaking every rule that he made. It was her intention to bring him to a boiling point, to push his buttons, and to reap the benefits of his anger. So far, all the punishments had been hands-off — getting grounded and losing phone privileges, but she was really hoping to push him over the edge into something more physical. She wanted to feel his hands on her.
“Do you know what time it is?” He said to her out of the darkness when Sheila walked in, through the front door, not hiding a thing.
“It’s… two forty-five am,” she confidently answered her stepdad after checking the time on her phone.
“Last I checked, your curfew was still midnight,” he reminded her sternly, pushing up out of his armchair.
“The fact that I still even have a curfew is a damn joke. I’m twenty years old!” She was being purposefully confrontational with him, trying to provoke a reaction.
“As long as you live in this house…” he began to say, and Sheila rolled her eyes at the cliché expression.
“Yeah, yeah, I live by your rules.”
His hand sprang out and caught her by the back of her neck, surprising Sheila with his firm grip. He hadn’t done that before, but as unexpected as his action was, it also gave her hope that she’d finally pushed the right button with him.
“Listen, I’m just about fed up with the attitude,” he hissed, his face so close to hers that a fine spray of spittle landed on her face with that phrase. Her body tightened, strung tighter with tension.
“Then maybe you should punish me,” Sheila replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
