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As quietly as she could she made her way up to the bedside and slowly sat on the bed as it took her weight. Once she was sure her dad was still deep in his sleep, she wriggled under the sheet until she was next him. As usual he was arranged like a star fish with his arms and legs out to either side. To accommodate him she curled into a ball and put herself right by his side with his arm under her head like a pillow. Like most dads she’d heard about hers slept naked, but although all the other girls who mentioned this seemed grossed out, she didn’t mind. To be fair a lot of the of the other girl’s dads weren’t as handsome as hers, or in as good shape. A few years ago, she had to put up with a few friends who couldn’t stop gushing about her dad when they came over and saw him for the first time. Although she saw all the good features about him, to her he was always just her dad. How could she think about him that way?

I left her there, naked and bleeding, and the next time I saw her, she was at the base of the west tower, having jumped to her death. Galvin told me not to concern myself with her, that she was simply a broken toy, and that I would find another. But I knew different. She wasn’t a broken toy, and though she made her choice, it wasn’t suicide; it was murder. I killed her. I hurt her, I violated her, and made her life so painful that I might as well have pushed her off that tower myself. I knew it, but I didn’t want to accept it.

“No problem hon,” Her dad called after her, happy to see that both of their moods had improved this weekend, while being none the wiser on why that was the case.