Free Closer by Maxine Linnell Page B

voice is thick, creamy. I have to find a way of saying something, anything. 
    â€œNearly, I’m tired.” Will that do it? Will he get the message and go away? 
    But he sits down on the bed. It’s a small bed, and his weight rolls me towards him. I pull back.
    â€œIt’s all right, I just want to say hello, that’s all.” 
    â€œNot now Dad, I’m going to sleep.” I roll over and turn my back to him, and the duvet slips down below my shoulders with him sitting on it. I’m cold and I want to be covered up but I lie here like I’m going back to sleep. 
    â€œCome on, sweetheart, it’s your old dad. Won’t you give me a cuddle?” 
    Inside I’m falling apart. I’m losing it. I want to scream out but my voice is slammed shut inside me. 
    â€œSo what’s it about?” He’s not giving up. 
    I move so I’m lying on my back with my face towards the window, half turned away now, eyes still shut, like that means nothing’s happening. Like when you’re little and you play hide and seek, and you hide behind a really thin tree and all your arms and legs show, but you think nobody can see you because you can’t see them. 
    â€œNothing’s up, Dad. I just want to go to sleep.” 
    â€œI mean, what’s up between you and me? We used to be good mates, have a laugh and a cuddle. I miss that. Too grown up now are you? Too grown up to give your old dad a cuddle? My little girl?” 
    It’s what he used to say, and I used to love it. His huge arms round me, holding me tight, squeezing the breath out of me, lifting me up and swinging me round until I was dizzy with laughing. I’m remembering how that was and I have to work hard not to cry. He reaches out to me and his hand is on my shoulder. I can feel it, hot, and I realise I’m freezing. 
    â€œThings are so hard for your old dad right now, you know? Your granma dying, your sister going away, your mum’s always mad at me. Do you know, I think I’m depressed.” 
    I can’t bear to hear him so sad. His face crumples like he’s trying not to cry and I can’t stand it. 
    â€œI think I’m depressed, and I need my little girl to love me.” 
    He puts his right hand to my face, and it’s on my cheek, rough, big, hot. He’s pushing my face so I’ll look at him. But I don’t. 
    â€œCome on, don’t be so mardy,” His voice is changing now. He’s sounding cross, like he does when he’s not getting his own way. 
    â€œJust a cuddle, it won’t hurt, will it?” 
    He’s pressing at my face, closing his hand around my mouth. His other hand is pulling down the duvet and he’s touching my chest. I can’t believe it but it’s true. 
    I don’t know what to do. Loads flashes through my mind. Scream. My voice won’t work. Fight. He’s stronger than me, there’s no point. I can’t move. And all the while there’s loving him, feeling sad for him, guilty not to do what he wants. There’s like a huge row going on inside me in a tenth of a second. And then it all goes away. I’m drifting off into the good place. I’m numb and not feeling anything, it’s all far away, like this is happening to someone else. 
    Then something grabs me back, something inside me that wakes up and knows I can’t let this go on. Something angry and disgusted and determined and strong. 
    My mouth is against his hand, against the soft part between his thumb and his fingers. And before I know what I’m doing, I open my mouth and I’m biting his hand, hard. 
    He lets out a yell but I’m not stopping the biting. I clamp my jaws round his hand and I push his other hand away.