The Pole Dancer

Chapter 41

Small hands strike the sturdy wood of the door hard. Even some feet are thrown into it, creating a loud noise.

"Let me out!" Sarah shrieks as hard as she can.

The little girl looks around. This room is strange, she thinks. It has no windows, it is pitch dark. It has a bed, some furniture and many toys. There is even a tray of food on the table.

Somehow, Sarah doesn't feel the dread of being in this peculiar, trapped place. Rather, she feels wrath. Who does that man think he is to snatch her? She doesn't know for sure who the man is who kidnapped her.

Now that she remembers the incident, she lays down with her knees up to her chin and cries. She misses her parents. Lily. Her uncle... Who looked like he was in a lot of pain. She didn't get to see much. Lily held her tightly.

Her cries stiffen. The only thing she wants now is to be home with her family.

The door creaks and Paul slips in with his arms full of toys and snacks.

"Hey honey, he says sweetly. What's the matter?"

Sarah raises her head. Tears are still streaming down her face. She frowns when she takes a look of Paul. She jumps up, finger pointing at him.

"Who are you? Let me go! I want home!"

"Oh, honey," he chuckles, slamming the door behind him and dropping everything in his arms on the bed next to him. "But this is your home. I mean, at least we will both be at our real HOME in a short time."

"My home is not here!" The little girl stomps her feet to the ground and crosses her arms. "And you didn't tell me who you are!"

"Sit down and I'll explain," Paul points to the bed. "And I brought you some toys and snacks."

"I'm not hungry and I don't like these toys either. They are ugly!" Sarah says scornfully, walking over to the bed and sitting down disdainfully.

"What an attitude," Paul huffs annoyed. "You are your mother's daughter, after all."

It's not enough for him that Sarah is the true embodiment of Jenice, she also has her personality. It's like Jenice cloned herself and he didn't take part in sharing the genetic material at all. It's like a punch in his face.

"Let's get straight to the point," he says with a serious look and steps towards her. "I am your dad," he says dryly.

"No!" Sarah gets angry. "Nikki is my dad! I am his daughter! I'm Sarah Sixx! I bear my father's name! Just like my mother."

"He is not your dad!" Paul barks. "I am your dad! If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have been born! You must have some memories about me. But you were so young when your mother ran away with you. She stole you from me. And when you were born, you bore my name! The name you have now is not the true and right one!"

"Not true!"

"Kiddo..." Paul sighs, bowing his head. "Look," he takes something out of his pocket. "Look, here, kiddo," he shows her some pictures. "This is where you were when you were born. It was you here, wrapped in this blanket, your mother and me. Here it was on your first birthday. Here, it was after you turned two years old. You had just started kindergarten."

Sarah looks at the pictures without any expression. Paul is muddled.

"Oh, so it's you."

"Do you remember now?"

"I remember only once that you were angry with mommy and you yelled at her. I was scared."

"That was in the past, honey. Your mother and I didn't get along."