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Daddy's Best Little Girl By Dawn DeWinter I'm a twin. Or I was a twin. My sister is dead. It's been a whole year now since she drowned. She was out on the lake with our Daddy, in a motorboat, when a storm came up suddenly. The boat capsized. That's what they say. Daddy almost drowned himself trying to save her. He cried for weeks, he did, my Daddy. My mama, she ain't the crying type. But she was hurting even more than my Daddy. I know she was 'cause I'd catch her staring at a picture of my sister. It was taken on the day of my sister's last birthday. She was eleven, and she was all smiles. Actually, she was giggling up a storm 'cause our Daddy was tickling her all over. My mama stared at that picture for hours and hours after my sister drowned. When she did, I'd see her hands clench. Even in my dreams I see those hands, reaching out for my sister trying to stop her from sinking to the bottom of the lake. But my sister never reaches back. And she's got a crazy grin on her face ? like in the photograph ? as though she enjoyed the water so much she wanted never to leave it. Yet she did. She's buried in the town cemetery. My Daddy always kept fresh flowers on her grave. I guess I'll have to do that now. I loved my sister more than anyone I've ever known ? or ever will know. After all, we was twins. Not identical twins, mind you. We couldn't be that ? could we? -- 'cause the doctor said my folks were real lucky to have both a girl and a boy in a single litter. My mama told my Daddy that she didn't need no more kids. All she ever wanted was one of each kind. Since my sister and I were sort of accidents ? there was a hole the size of a pinprick in the rubber ? my mama wasn't too anxious to have my Daddy touch her after that. How do I know that? 'Cause Daddy always called her 'frigid' whenever they had a row, which was pretty often, even before my sister drowned. I figured mama was too icy cold too touch. I always found her that way ? too icy cold to touch. She doesn't touch anyone much, not even me. Not even my sister before she drowned. My Daddy, though, he always liked to hug people ? even strangers. I could see it really hurt him when mama pulled away. He'd get this look on his face just like a puppy has when you put it back down on the ground. It's a real sorrowful look. I felt sorry for Daddy. I'd tell him that he could give me a big hug, if he wanted. He'd look over at me whenever I said that. He'd smile, but he never held out his arms. So I almost never got that hug, at least not whilst my sister was alive. She'd always know when Daddy needed someone to hold, and without asking she'd run over to him. They'd hug and then they'd snuggle together to watch television. That's how I remember most evenings before my sister drowned. My mama and I'd be on the big sofa, she at one end, me at t'other. She needs her breathing space, my mama does. Daddy and my sister would be on the love seat. Usually she'd nestle under his arm, her head resting against his chest; but oft times she'd sit on his lap, her tiny arms around his neck. Mama frowned whenever my sister sat on Daddy's lap, but she didn't ever say nothing about it. My mama is a woman of few words. My Daddy, he liked to talk, but not after my sister went away; he was real quiet then. He just stared off into space like he was trying to remember what my sister felt like. He said he didn't want to watch television anymore 'cause it made him think of his little girl. There'd be a tear in his eye when he said that. I'd watch it trail down his cheek, and at the last second ? as it hung from his chin ready to drop to earth ? he'd smear it on his beard. When I see'd his beard glisten, I knew t'wasn't sweat, 'cause my Daddy didn't work very much, not much at all. My mama said he was a no account lay about. But he'd smile and reply, "I don't have to do much, Sara, 'cause you're such a good provider. That K-Mart job of your'n gives us all we'll ever need." So t'wasn't sweat I see'd on my Daddy's chin; I knew it was a memory of my sister, dearly departed but not forgot. When he wiped his chin, my heart would sink. It was like I was losing my twin sister all over again. It took my Daddy three months before he smiled again after my sister went away. We was alone 'cause my mama was down at the K-Mart and I was dressed entirely in red ?- a red T-shirt, red gym shorts, red socks, and red sneakers. I may even have been wearin' red underpants, but my Daddy wouldn't have known that. Leastwise I don't think he could see them. But you never know, 'cause those gym shorts were mighty short and awful tight. I hadn't worn them since my eleventh birthday when my mama had given me a white T-shirt and some khaki trousers ? "man's clothes", she called 'em ? and said that me and my sister were old enough to dress different. It was time we developed "some personality of our own" she said. Me and my sister were dressed exactly alike ?- in red. We didn't know, we didn't care, where the clothes come from. I was sure it was from the boys' department at the K-Mart, but my sister swore she saw our gym shorts in girls' wear. I didn't believe her 'cause I just knew that my Daddy ? he bought the outfit ? wouldn't fool with me like that. But I did oblige my sister when she said our underpants were "nylon panties." I knew they weren't, and I held her head down in the water to make her take it back. She did that first time, but when she kept insisting, I decided it wasn't worth fighting her all the time. So we both called our underpants "panties" even though I knew they wasn't. After all, blue, black and white is boys' colors ? right? And it don't really matter how the underpants feel or fit, does it, so long as they're the right color? We'd both been wearing our red outfits for six months, almost every day after school; and then we turned eleven, and my mama said, "It's high time you children dressed distinct." So I got my first pair of khaki jeans and my sister got ? Lord, she looked pretty! ? her first dress. It was pink and it had big, puffy sleeves. And you could hear her swish when she walked. I joshed her some about the noise, but she laughed at me: "It's about time," she said, "that you men folk took some notice of me." It was just before my twelfth birthday, and six months since anyone had noticed my sister last, that I put on my red outfit for the first time since my mama told me I was a man and that I'd outgrowed it. I knew 'mediately she was right: I had grown like a weed since I last dressed in red, and I was busting out all over. But I didn't have no choice. All my other clothes were lying in a heap on the floor. My mama had stopped picking 'em up after my sister died. She'd take weeks to do the laundering, so I was plum out of clothes. I reckoned what my mama didn't know, wouldn't hurt. I'd do a load of laundry and be dressed in white and blue before she got home from the K-Mart. Since my Daddy didn't seem to care what I wore, I reckoned he'd never even notice that I'd disobeyed my mama. But I was wrong. Boy, were those clothes ever tight! I didn't mind showing something at the crotch. After all, there weren't any girls around to fun with me, and I sort of liked looking like I was too big for my britches ? you know what I mean, that I was big where it counts most for a guy. You'd think I was that ancient Greek flower guy ? Narcosis, I think that was his name ? the way I kept staring at my crotch in those tight jeans. I was real proud of myself. "Boy," I kept saying to myself, "you're going to be one hell of a lover man one of these days." So I liked the way I looked in the shorts. I kept spinning around to see how good I looked, front and back. But the T-Shirt was another matter. It didn't fit me right, not at all. It must have shrunk somehow. Or maybe the moths got to it. But it was too short. You could see my belly button. You'd think I was a girl the way I was showing it off. All I needed was a rhinestone in it and I would have looked just like Loretta McIvor, the biggest slut in the sixth grade. No, I didn't like seeing my belly button. Heck, I looked like I was wearing one of those things I saw in the K-Mart flyer just before Valentine's Day last year. You know what I mean ? I looked like I was prancing 'round in one of them brassieres that go down to a lady's waist. I can't remember what they're called, but they're kind of sexy ? on a girl! No boy should look that way. It was downright girly-looking. And what's worse, I could see my nipples sticking through the T-shirt. They was real tender to touch. And I could swear they were getting hard, just like my willy. I must have been squeezing my left nipple when my Daddy came into my room, unannounced, real quiet-like. He didn't say a word, but he stared at me like he was a bear, and I was a fish in a crick. I was surprised that he weren't checking out my crotch. I reckon I would if I were a father; I'd want to know whether my son was becoming a man. Instead, his eyes were fixed on my chest ? or rather on my left nipple. His pupils were wide open as they followed my fingers as I moved them to my right tit. I should have stopped as soon as I caught his eye, but I was too excited too stop. I hadn't realized till then that my nipples was one of them "airogenius zones," and I kept squeezing both of 'em 'till my body shook. My orgasm wasn't much; after all, I was too young to cum. But my Daddy seemed respectful enough. I reckoned that he maybe played with his titties when he was a young un. Maybe every boy does that while he's waiting for his cream to rise to the top. When I finished, I suddenly felt shamed. I looked down, up, sideways, every way but directly at my Daddy. Then he touched me. I couldn't remember the last time that my Daddy had given me the front of his hand. Gently his fingers lifted up my chin so that I looked him in the eye. There I saw a teardrop form and slide ever so softly down his cheek till he smeared it with t'other hand when it reached his chin. It made me think of my sister. My Daddy was thinking of her too, 'cause he said, right after kissing me on the forehead, that my red clothes reminded him of her. "She used to have an outfit just like your'n, didn't she?" he asked. When I nodded, Daddy smiled. Once again he kissed me, this time on the cheek, and then he told me how much it pleasured him to see me wearing something that reminded him of his sweet little girl. He then ran his fingers through my hair. Now it was my time to cry. Not till then had I realized how much I needed my Daddy's touch. After he smeared the teardrop on my chin, he asked me whether I wanted some vittles. I nodded, and then to my surprise, he suggested we get a burger at the Supersonic. That way we could eat in the truck, he said. Was I ever excited! We hadn't done nothing together since my sister drowned. I started racing to the door, but he caught me by the tail of my T-shirt and stopped me in my tracks. "You can't go out in public in those shorts," he said. "They're downright obscene. A good Christian boy doesn't flaunt his cock and balls. They're best hidden away until his marriage day. Come with me and we'll look for something decent for you to wear." To my surprise he took me to my sister's room. It was exactly the same as she'd left it on the day she drowned, except that it was missing a table lamp. Electric lamps don't come cheap; so my mama allowed that I could take Melissa's. My Daddy told me to sit on the bed while he rummaged through a chest looking for some shorts for me to wear. As my sister had started to spread out, woman-like, in the year before she died, all her shorts were likely to fit me still. I was going to say that there was no way I was going to wear my sister's clothes ? it was downright indecent, I thought, her being dead and all; but I had to admit I liked the shorts he found for me. Cut real short, they were white with red elastic at the waist and legs. While I was still deciding to put 'em on, my Daddy started tugging at my red shorts, and off they came. He was about to pull down my underpants as well, but stopped when he saw that they was red nylon. "Good, you're already wearing panties. They'll do fine. But, to make sure that you don't commit an indecency, I want you, child, to tuck your dick and balls back in between your legs. Can you do that?" "Yes Daddy," I replied. And then to my amazement I found that I could push my balls up into my body. When I told my Daddy that I'd just pushed my balls up inside, he said, "Good, that's where they belong until you get married. Why do you think God gave you that space? That's its holy purpose. You understand, child, I want you to be modest at all times. If I see you flaunting yourself again, I'll give you a thrashing. Understood?" I nodded, even though I did worry whether my willy and marbles would stay where I'd stuffed 'em. I was a mite relieved when Daddy explained that tape would help keep my marbles inside me, and that real tight underwear would do the rest. "Here," my Daddy said, as he handed me half the panties from my sister's chest of drawers. "Wear these from now on. They're nice and tight. They'll keep you modest." "But Daddy," I objected. "Won't mama be upset if she finds me in my sister's clothes?" "She'll never know. You'll wear your regular things when your mama's around or you're going to school. But when we're alone together, it would much oblige me if you'd wear some of your sister's things. It will pleasure me so much to see some use put to her clothes. It will be like having her around the house again." "But what about mama?" "Don't worry, she'll never know. It will be our secret, and I'll protect it by doing the laundering, like she asks." My Daddy then started weeping. I rushed over to him, and he wrapped me in his arms. He hadn't done that in so long. He had a faraway look in his eyes when one of his hands started stroking my bottom through the panties. Just as the fingers reached my crack, he suddenly became more alert. Gently he pushed me away and told me to put on the shorts so we's could go out. We had such a great time at the Supersonic ? Daddy even bought me extra fries! ? that I was in a real good mood when we got home. I guess that's why I didn't object to wearing my sister's favorite necklace ? it was made of different colors of twisted leather: pink, lavender and blue. I felt odd wearing the necklace to the Wal-Mart next day. But I liked the way I looked in my sister's yellow shorts and a powder blue T-shirt with a large grinning sun on the front, and shooting stars on the back. As we was there to buy me a catcher's mitt, I didn't put up much of a fuss when my Daddy insisted I get my ears pierced. He rightly pointed out that a lot of fellows wore earrings these days, and I kind of liked the gold studs he bought me. My mama was none too pleased with the studs. She gave me an ice-cold stare. To my Daddy she said, "I know what you're up to, and I'll have none of it, you understand. I won't let it happen twice." The guys at school liked the studs, but my stock with them dropped over the next two weeks as my hair grew longer ? my Daddy wouldn't let me get it cut ? and I began ('cause Daddy insisted) wearing some of my sister's clothes to school. I chose carefully and I thought I looked masc'line enough in 'em, but one or two of the boys started spreading stories about me. At home I always dressed in my sister's clothes when my mamma was working at the K-Mart because my Daddy liked me that way. I soon discovered that he liked pink the best, and I'd generally try to be wearing something pink ? shorts, a T-shirt, or my sister's plastic earrings ? when I wanted to sit close to him in front of the television. I s'pose the first halter-top I wore was pink; it must've been. At first I refused to wear it 'cause I knew it made me look like a girl, especially with my hair being so long. But Daddy promised to take me to a baseball game ? minor league of course ? once a month if I'd start wearing halter tops a couple of times a week. I love baseball and so I started wearing halter-tops. I liked the way they felt, and soon I was wearing them real regular. I put my foot down when my Daddy suggested I wear a hair band around the house to keep my hair in place. I started shouting: "You're trying to turn me into a girl. Why you doing that? Don't you know that I want to stay a boy?" My Daddy started sobbing. He was pitiful. I had to comfort him. So I puts my arms around him and holds him tight. He had his right hand on my butt. He was stroking it; but I didn't mind 'cause I had my pink shorts on. My Daddy pressed me to his chest, and then he said, "Child, I'm not trying to turn you into a girl. I just miss Melissa so much I could die. When you dress in her clothes, it seems like I've got two children again. Child, it won't hurt you to dress like Melissa. It's a small thing for you and everything for me." His body shook with sobs. I still wanted to say no, but I lost my train of thought. My willy irrupted it. It was getting hard 'cause my Daddy's fingers had found my butt crack. I was embarrassed; I didn't want my Daddy to feel my hard- on against him. And so I agreed to his brushing my hair. That way I could turn away from him. There must have been a thousand brushstrokes. It felt so wonderful that I told my Daddy I'd wear a hair band any day he brushed my hair. That turned out to be every day ? at least whilst my mama was away ? because my Daddy loved brushing my hair. He said it made me look just like Melissa, and I had to agree it did. I sort of liked that. One morning ? it must have been five weeks since I'd worn my red outfit ? my Daddy announced that we were going to make maximum use of my mama's double shift. We'd be going to the state fair! That is, we'd be going to the fair if I went as Melissa. For the first time he was asking me to go out in public looking like a girl. Naturally, I refused. I threw quite a tantrum. But I relented after an hour of shouting and crying. I was doing the shouting; my Daddy, the crying. As no one was likely to know me at the state fair ? it was three counties over ? I eventually agreed to be Melissa for the day. But I drew the line at the skirt he wanted me to wear. I hadn't ever worn a skirt, and I wasn't about to wear one for the first time outside, in public. And yet, my Daddy got his way after another half-hour of shouting. What? You're wondering what kind of boy would agree to wear a skirt to the state fair? The kind of boy who'd rather be taken for a girl than for a fairy, that's who! My Daddy 'suaded me that the more girlish I looked, the safer I'd be. So I wore the blue denim skirt, some floppy white socks, and shiny black girl's shoes with a strap. My halter-top had a Backstreet Boy's banner, and underneath I wore a... training bra. I didn't put up much of a fight against it 'cause I had to agree with my Daddy that a girl my age would be showing something up top. Still, I didn't like the way it tugged, and I'd never have wore it again if my Daddy wasn't extra nice to me whenever I did. My Daddy spent the whole day showing me off. He'd go up to a stranger lady and ask, "Ain't my Melissa a little darling? Ain't she pretty?" And all the stranger ladies agreed with him. The men did too. And I saw hunger in some of their eyes. They were the ones who patted me on the head or sometimes on the butt. I even got a wolf whistle ? not a very good one 'cause the boy wasn't much older than me; and one boy actually asked for my phone number! It was real strange. With so many people saying I was mighty pretty and treating me exactly like a girl, I began to act like one. I'd spread my skirt real dainty-like when I sat down, and by the afternoon I was remembering to keep my knees together when I sat (after I noticed a boy peeking up my dress). One of the ladies said I had lovely hair, and when I saw myself in the mirror, I started throwing it from side to side, like I seen girls do in the motion pictures. You'd never believe where I was at the time. Yep, it was the little girls' room. I was practically peeing down my leg by the time I finally agreed to go into the ladies' washroom. But what choice did I have? I could hardly go into the boys' room in a skirt, now could I? A teenage girl was adjusting herself, and so I got to see her stockings and panties! I found an excuse to use the little girls' room another two times, but all I got to see was an older lady put on her lipstick. When she saw me staring, she put some pink lipstick on me. Daddy was right pleased with the way I looked. He said I'd be wearing lipstick from now on ? that is, whenever mama wasn't around. I started whining, but Daddy calmed me down by promising me that all the lipsticks would taste like raspberry, cherry, strawberry or licorice. "You'll be constantly smacking your lips with pleasure," he said. When I allowed that I might wear lipstick again, my Daddy gave me a big kiss ? right on the lips. I was a bit shamed 'cause people were looking, but they just smiled. So I nodded when Daddy said he'd be wanting to taste my lipstick each time. There was lots of times that day that I felt mighty uncomfortable about being Melissa. But it made my heart soar to see my Daddy so happy. He hadn't smiled so much since the real Melissa drowned. He bought me so many things and treated me to so many rides that I was real happy to hold his hand all day. When he'd fuss with my hair, I really did feel like Daddy's best little girl. That day, and the next, and all the days thereafter, I had lots of fun as Melissa. We'd roam over three counties looking for things to do. It was strange: Daddy knew I wanted to ride the big roller coaster and Go- Karts and play or watch baseball. That's was okay with him ? that I did boy's stuff ? but I had to do it as Melissa, more often than not in a dress. Yep, a dress. I didn't like to wear one; I preferred my denim skirt. But if I wanted Daddy to treat me, to hug me, to love me, then I had to wear a dress, make-up, and a slightly padded bra. I signed up as Melissa for a girl's softball league and for a girl's Go-Kart competition. So I got to do what I wanted, even if I didn't wear the clothes I wanted. Most of all we watched television together, with me snuggled under his arm. He wanted me close to him even when my mama was home from the K- Mart. She'd sometimes glare at us, but since she wasn't offering her own wing to me, I stayed put. My daddy never kissed me or played with my hair when mama was around. He said it would make her jealous. But when we was alone, and I was Melissa, my Daddy and me would experiment with different flavors of lipstick. He said I was tastiest to kiss when my lips were cherry. One day I came home from school and my Daddy was mighty drunk. I later found out that he'd been fired from his part-time job in plumbing. He told me that he'd bought me some new clothes on the way home from work, and that I should put 'em on 'mediately. He wasn't too pleasant. He practically spat out that word ? "mediately". I ran to my bedroom to see what he'd bought me. It was lady's nightclothes ? black, see-through, and lacy. It's the sort of clothes I once see'd in the late movie on a French lady. Hell, she weren't no lady. She was a... whore. There was a nightgown, a bra, panties, stockings (all in black lace) and something that looked like a belt with straps hanging from it. There were even some high-heeled shoes. Did my Daddy really expect me to master 'em? I hesitated just long enough for my Daddy to charge into the room. "What's taking you so long?" he bellowed. "Now you undress, you hear!" He then yanked my T-shirt over my head. He got me to put on the bra. I noticed it was the most padded yet. I looked real mature. Once again I hesitated, so he pulled down my shorts and underpants in one swift motion. I didn't want to stand around naked in front of my Daddy, and so I put on the panties real quick, whilst taking care, at my Daddy's insistence, to tuck away my willy. The panties didn't cover a lot, and so I was happy that the belt with the straps ? a garter belt, my Daddy called it ? gave me some decency. Then went on the sheer stockings and the shoes. Daddy wanted me to walk around the room. As I stumbled about, he said, "Melissa, you wave your ass in a real sexy way when you walk in them high heels. You make me so hot. I've always wanted you, but you've always been a cocktease. Well, no longer. It's time you gave yourself to Daddy." I didn't like the way he was talking ? no way, no how. So I tried to get to the door and out of my room. I might've made it if I had been wearing sneakers. But I was wobbling so much on those high heels that my Daddy was able to grab me round the waist, and then throw me down on the bed. He was on top of me. While I punched away at him, he was trying to hoist up my nightgown while hauling down my panties. He had a lot of things to do 'cause he was also trying to unbuckle his pants and pull them down while he pressed his body between my legs. I could tell that he was trying to hoist my body up to expose my hole. I knew what he had in mind: my Daddy was going to rape me. He was going to treat me like a cheap woman, and with my grip slipping on my panties, it wouldn't be long now before he plunged into me. "Daddy, why are you doing this? Ain't I your best little girl? Why don't you treat me kindly?" "Hush, hush, Melissa. Don't you fret none. Don't you cry. We'll be even closer when I'm through ? like husband and wife. This is like a wedding night. Relax, and it'll go easier on you." "But Daddy, you've already got a wife. I can't be her. You get off me now. You got to listen when I say you got no right to touch me this way. I'll tell the sheriff." My Daddy got angry. He slapped my face then snarled, "You stupid bitch. I don't have to mind what you say. You do what I say. And don't think you can escape this time, Melissa, by jumping out of the boat. You know I would have let you back in if you'd given me what I needed. There, I've got them," ? he said as he ripped my panties off ? "and now I've finally get what I've been wanting for years. Melissa, open wide for Daddy." It was going to happen. The unthinkable. I couldn't stop it now. So I closed my eyes and tried to think of something else, anything else, so that I could shut out what he was going to do to me. All if could think of was Melissa ? the real Melissa ? calling for help. And I wasn't there to give it to her. What hope was there for her twin? Plenty, it turned out. Just as my Daddy was about to enter me, my mamma charged into the room. She was yelling obscenities at him. He turned away from me, but not in time to prevent an electric lamp from clobbering him ? over and over again, till I was covered with blood, and he was lying on the floor, very, very dead. "How, mama, how?" "Melissa, my darling. I knew he was after you. He's always been after you. I swore I'd protect you when the time came. I knew about the growed-up clothes. After all, they was hanging in your closet. And I see'd traces of make-up on you. I knew, Melissa, that monster was trying to make you grow up too fast so you'd be ready for his lust." "But mama, why ain't you at work?" "Melissa, darling, when I heard that your Daddy had lost his part-time job, I knew he'd get liquored up. I knew you'd be in danger. So I took off work the first moment my boss would let me, and I rushed home to protect you. Oh, Melissa, he didn't manage to... actually... get inside you, did he? You still a virgin?" "Yes, mama, I'm still a virgin. You got here in time. Oh, I love you so, mama." I then tried to hug her. To my surprise, she let me. "It's going to be different from now on, Melissa. We're going to be real close the way a mother and a daughter oughta be. From now on, we'll be on the two-cushion sofa; and your Daddy will be in Hell." She was hugging me real close and her hand was tenderly wiping the tears from my face. One teardrop she smeared across my chin, real gentle-like. I thought of Melissa. I knew I owed it to my drowned sister to tell my mama the truth: "Mama, I do so love you. But I'm not Melissa. I'm Michael. You know: Michael, your son." My mama seemed to be in shock, for she answered real slow: "Michael? You can't be Michael. He was drowned by his Daddy. You've all I got now, Melissa. Give me another big hug. I do love you so. You've always been my favorite, Melissa. It would tear my heart out if anything ever happened to you." I didn't know what to answer. Maybe I was in shock too. Anyone would be a mite addled if their mama killed their Daddy, while he was committing an indecency. My mama had such a strange look on her face I elected not to fret her no more about Michael. So I said, "Don't worry mama, your best little girl is still alive. Nothing bad is going to happen to her." "Melissa, you pleasure me so much when you talk that way. I'm going to do right by you, I swear. And first of all, I'm going to do something about your slow development. It's not fitting that a girl your age be so flat chested, but the women in our family are slow developers. However, we got lots of herbal remedies, Melissa, and we'll start working on your bosom tomorrow. How does that sound, Melissa?" "It sounds good, mama. Now, shouldn't you rest? You look beat." "Heavens no, girl. I've got to phone the sheriff. I'm afraid that you're going to have to tell him the truth about your Daddy if we're both to stay out of jail." While we waited for the sheriff, my mama and I were planning our future. She said that she knew that her daughter was a big sports fan, and she swore she'd take me to see the Cowboys and the Rangers. According to mama, the scandal over Daddy would be too big for me to return to my regular school, so we'd move to a new county so I could enroll in a Christian school, naturally as Melissa. Maybe I ought to have told her that I didn't want to be no girl. But I didn't have the heart to tell her the truth, 'cause what woman could lose her husband and favorite daughter in the same day and not crack? So I resolved to be Melissa until my mama comes to her senses. When the sheriff and his deputies arrived, they was very sympathetic. They could tell by the slutty way that I was dressed, by my torn panties, and by the bruises on my thighs that mama was telling the truth about Daddy. The sheriff said I wouldn't need to be examined by the doctor since my Daddy wasn't going to be charged with rape. He also said that the case would probably never go to jury, and he was right. Even so, I had to go to the sheriff's office to tell my story. I elected to dress entirely in black. I had a black boy-band T-shirt, a black skirt, and black socks which flopped down over my shiny shoes with the strap and buckle. Underneath I wore black velvet panties that matched my hair band. I looked perfect ? a girl in mourning for her father. But I hoped I didn't look too sexy, 'cause I didn't want the sheriff to think I was the sort of girl who'd lead her father on. My mama's shouting from the next room: "Melissa, are you ready to go with me to the sheriff's office?" "Yes, mama. I hope you like what I'm wearing." THE END