Daddy's Precious Little Girl

First Day Part 3

 Walking into the office, I was immediately greeted by Mr. Delas.

"Ethan, could you follow me, please?" he said, not really waiting for an answer. I didn't hesitate, following him to a side room where he slapped a file down on the table. He gestured for me to pick it up.

I froze for a moment, realizing it was my student file. My heart sank, already knowing what I would find inside. Duncan. My baby boy. I had spent so many hours in therapy, working through the grief, convincing myself that what happened wasn't my fault. I knew, even before Duncan became my Little, that his time was limited. Still, that knowledge never eased the pain.

Holding the file, I couldn't bring myself to open it. I knew what would greet me on those pages: his photo, tubes and wires attached to his fragile body. The bold red lettering marking his death. That image had haunted me since the day he passed. Now, just touching this file felt like holding something that had betrayed me.

"Ethan, I know you've just returned, and what I'm about to ask is hard, but I need you to open your file. I need to know if you're truly dealing with Duncan's death. There's something I believe will benefit you, but it can't wait," Mr. Delas said, his tone firm but compassionate.

Anger surged through me. Of course, I was dealing with Duncan's death. Why else would I be here? I had returned to take classes with Littles again, knowing it was only a matter of time before I was either chosen or assigned one. I didn't need to open that file and see Duncan in that hospital bed again to prove I was coping.

I placed the file back on the table, stepping away from it. "I don't need to see him that way to tell you I'm dealing with his death. Duncan was my Little boy, and I wouldn't be here if I wasn't ready. It's been two years. I'm not the same 21-year-old who lost his whole world. I miss him every single day, but I know I can love another. No one will ever take his place, but there's another Little out there who needs the kind of love I can give."

I was breathing hard, the weight of my words heavy in the room. Mr. Delas just watched me for a moment before nodding his head, seemingly satisfied with my response.

"Right," Mr. Delas said, shifting the conversation. "I need you to look over this file and tell me what you think."

He placed another file on top of mine, its baby pink coloring instantly signaling it was for a Little girl. The name on the file read 'Ashlynn.' It didn't ring any bells, but there were plenty of Littles I didn't know yet. I glanced at Mr. Delas before picking it up and opening the file.

I froze, horrified by what I saw and immediately slammed it shut. A cold wave of disbelief washed over me. What kind of sick joke was this?

"That's not Duncan, look closer," Mr. Delas said, sensing my reaction.

I just stared at the closed file, not wanting to revisit those feelings.

"Ethan, I know it's hard. But it isn't Duncan. This Little needs an experienced caregiver. I think this could be good for both of you. Please open the file again."

Hesitantly, I reopened it, my heart still pounding. Now, with a clearer mind, I saw that it was definitely not Duncan. It was a girl, and her frail body was connected to countless tubes. Bruises covered her, some dark, others faded. She looked like she had been through hell. I moved past the photo, reading the medical report.

Several broken ribs, multiple fractures—some that hadn't even healed properly—internal bleeding... My mind raced. What in the world had happened to her?

The file also stated that Ashlynn's mother was responsible for her injuries—and had already been executed for her crimes. My stomach twisted. How could a parent do that to their own child? It was incomprehensible. I jolted slightly when I felt a hand land on my shoulder.

"I know," Mr. Delas said softly. "I just found out as well. I can't understand how anyone could do that to a child, let alone their own. But it happened. This is Ashlynn." He turned the page to show me a picture of an adorable girl with bright hazel eyes and beautiful brown skin. Her picture gave no indication of the horrors she had been through. If I hadn't seen her medical report, I never would've guessed from seeing her in class earlier.

"Why are you showing me this?" I asked, still reeling from the file's contents.

Mr. Delas walked away and sat at the table, motioning for me to join him. "I'll get straight to the point. Normally, we let Caregivers and Littles choose each other naturally. But Ashlynn is going to need a very experienced Caregiver, and one who can focus solely on her. All our other experienced Caregivers already have Littles. You're the only one who doesn't—and you have experience with Littles who've had panic attacks. I think you two could really benefit from having each other. Of course, we'll still have a trial run, but I believe this could be good for you both."

When he finished speaking, he just stared at me, waiting for my reaction. He wanted me to be Ashlynn's Caregiver? I couldn't deny that I was curious about her, but a traumatized Little... that was a huge responsibility. I hadn't even met her yet. What if she didn't like me? The last thing I wanted was to inadvertently make things worse for her.

"Don't decide right now," Mr. Delas said, breaking the silence. "Why don't you spend the rest of the day with her and let me know in the morning? You'll be given temporary Daddy privileges for the day. Start by helping her settle back into class when she's ready, and then you can take her to lunch. After lunch, you have options—bring her to your afternoon classes if you think she needs the support, or sign her into Daycare. Her first afternoon class is in the daycare anyway. Then, take her for the evening. You're allowed to help her get ready for dinner and bed, but you must leave her room by 8 p.m. sharp. Tomorrow morning, you'll help her get ready, have breakfast together, and then report to my class. At that point, I'll ask both of you if you'd like to continue with the full week trial. If, at any time, either of you feel it's not working out, you or Ashlynn can page me or the Head Mistress to stop early."

Once again, when he finished, he just stared at me, waiting for my answer.