Chapter 2: Regrets, I've Had a Few

The morning after her dad had fucked her, Amy awoke feeling terribly hung over, terribly sad, and terribly ashamed. She'd been raped by her dad. It hadn't been a dream. She felt sick.

She'd been terrified about what he might do to her when she got home. Earlier in the evening, when Amy had begun to drink, her older friends had assured her they'd have her home by sunset. Amy had never gotten drunk before, but she'd been high a few times so she had figured it'd be roughly the same thing. Her friends, two high-school boys and their older brothers, assured her she'd be okay. But after a few beers everyone began smoking pot too, and drinking more, and everyone, herself included, had forgotten about the time. They'd been in a basement without windows. They were all having so much fun, listening to music, watching cheesy movies. Forgetting the time had been easy.

It wasn't until Shane Wallace began to cop a feel (she and the 17-year-old boy had been making out for almost an hour) that Amy had suddenly realized what time it must be. She'd jumped off his lap and stammered to him drunkenly that she had to get home, she had to get home right away! Reluctantly, the worked up boy had agreed to drive her.

It had been raining so hard outside. She'd gotten drenched waiting for Shane to find the right key and unlock the car. The drive home was short, and she had nearly begun crying on the way there. Shane had kept telling her to relax, that it would be okay, but Amy knew her dad. He was probably drinking. He would definitely be angry. And that combination, when it came to her father, usually meant someone got hurt.

Of course, he hadn't seriously hurt her in years. He'd stopped slapping her around when she was in the fourth grade, when the social worker began making visits after a teacher had reported her bruises. But a smack here and there was always the norm. And though she was constantly breaking his rules, she'd never gotten home so late. That, combined with the fact that he'd been in a foul mood about her step-mom leaving for the weekend, spelled trouble.

Shane had dropped her off without a word. He was obviously pissed off. Even in her drunken state, Amy knew what the boy had really wanted: her pussy. He'd wanted to fuck her. Maybe he'd wanted her to suck him off. But though Amy was a bit wild, and though she dressed provocatively and enjoyed masturbation, she'd never had sex before. Shane probably hadn't known this. As it turned out, neither had her dad.

She'd staggered up to the house feeling incredibly nervous. The rain was relentless, but all she could think about was what her dad would do to her. And to her horror, there he was, the second she'd opened the door.

His eyes had been wide with anger, his fists clenched at his sides. Thunder had boomed behind her as she stared at him. He began to yell something, and she'd flinched. She'd been certain he was about to hit her.

She had started to stumble some excuse, but then she'd noticed something. Between his legs there was a huge bulge pressing against his jeans. The sound of pouring rain and thunder had suddenly mixed with the sounds of moaning, too, and Amy realized a porno movie was playing in the living room. Her dad had been jacking off to porn!

Obviously, Amy had known for a long time about her dad's porn collection. But the idea of him sitting alone on a Saturday night, jerking off to a porn movie, seemed funny to the stoned, drunken girl. The sight of his bulge made it even funnier. She hadn't been able to help herself: she'd started laughing.

Somehow that laughter, combined with some lame attempts at explanation, had saved her. She'd fallen into him briefly, and then staggered to the stairs, and he hadn't even attempted to stop her. She'd felt in the clear. She continued to laugh, in relief now, as she entered her bedroom. Her dad hadn't followed her. He hadn't hit her. He probably wanted to get back to his movie and continue to masturbate, she had figured.

With her bedroom door closed safely behind Amy had kicked off her tennis shoes, dropped her purse, and staggered to her bed. The room was sort of spinning, but all she'd been able to think about was the sight of her big ol' angry dad-- with a boner. So funny! So hilarious.

She'd almost fallen asleep on this light note. Images of Shane, memories of his hand groping her tits, visions of her funny-looking dad staring at her with a boner, had filled her mind. What interrupted this progression toward passing out was the sound of heavy footfalls on the stairway.

When he entered her room Amy had closed her eyes even tighter and pretended to be asleep. When he'd rolled her over, the young girl had figured he wanted to see if she was okay. Had she been sober she would have known what was going on, probably. Maybe. Instead it wasn't until he pulled off her shirt that she began to have an idea.

She had purposely remained limp as he did it. In her drunken state she had decided he didn't want her to catch a cold, going to sleep with a wet shirt on. But when he began to fondle her breast the drunken girl didn't know what to think.