Your daughter

Mr. Milton smiles an evil smile. "Your daughter," he says.

What the fuck is he talking about?

"Look," he explains. "This shouldn't shock you, but no one tells me what I can and cannot have. I want you to take over for me. You tell me your wife won't help your career, so I have to find someone else. And I found your precious daughter Kelly."

How does he know her name? This makes no sense. You can't wrap your head around it. "So you're telling me... what exactly?" You need him to make it explicitly clear.

"Since you tried to back out on me last week, we've been training your daughter to be a good slut, and she's been taking to it incredibly well." He chomps down on a cigar. "She's been coming here every day."

"Bullshit." You say. "She's been going to school."

He stands, imposingly. "She's been coming here and fucking! She has fucked and sucked 47 men. Not to mention extra-curricular activities at home when daddy's not paying attention. And she's great at it."

You still can't wrap your head around it. He's making this up. He's trying to punish you for quitting, for having a great family that would never give into his depravity. But you can't shake what he just said. "47 men in two weeks?" You ask. It can't be.

He laughs. "47 men in just this past week" He says. "Her first week was for programming."

"Programming?" You feel your heart start to pound.

Mr. Milton holds up his phone and plays an audio file. It's a voice. A girl's voice. It's your Kelly's voice. You'd know it anywhere. "I am worthless. I only have worth when my holes are filled. I am worthless. I only have worth when my holes are filled. I am worthless. I only have worth when my holes are filled. I am worthless. I only have worth when my holes are filled.I am worthless. I only have worth when my holes are filled..."

He turns it off. "Every day, eight hours a day, for five days. After that, she was dying to have some worth."

No. It must be an impersonator or something. It can't be. "I don't believe you" you say.

"Would you like to see her?" He asks.

You would. But you wouldn't. You don't want to believe it. But you follow Mr. Milton into the next room. What else can you do? You have to know.

He flicks on the light. And there, sitting on the floor in the corner of the room is your darling daughter. It's Kelly, tarted up with black mascara and ruby-red lipstick, wearing a tank top with a push up bra and a short plaid skirt.

It's her. How is she here? What is happening?

You run over to her and give her a hug. A big hug. And she hugs you back. She's happy to see her. You know you need to rescue her.

"Daddy, will you help me?" She whispers. Your heart sinks. What the fuck has Mr. Milton done?

"Of course." you say. "I'll do anything for you."

"Good" She responds.