Daddy's Precious Little Girl

Therapy

Franklin's POV

"Franklin," Dr. Reeves' voice broke through my thoughts. She sat across from me, her usual calm, patient expression encouraging me to speak. "You've been quieter than usual today. What's on your mind?"

The office felt too quiet, the kind of quiet that forced you to sit with your thoughts, no matter how much you wanted to avoid them. I shifted in the chair, my hands gripping the edge of the armrests, trying to ground myself. Dr. Reeves sat across from me, her notebook open, but she didn't rush me. She never did.

"It's Marcy," I finally said, the words coming out heavier than I expected. "She's... she's still scared of me."

Dr. Reeves tilted her head slightly. "What makes you think that?"

I stared at the carpet, my mind flashing back to moments I'd rather forget. "It's the way she acts when she thinks she's done something wrong," I said, my voice low. "Like last week—she knocked over her juice cup. It wasn't even her fault; she bumped it with her elbow trying to grab her sandwich. But the second it happened, she froze. And then... she apologized so fast, like she thought I was going to yell or—" My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard. "Like she thought I was going to hit her."

Dr. Reeves remained quiet, letting the weight of my words settle.

"She shrinks into herself," I continued. "I can see it in her eyes—she's bracing for something. And I know I'm the reason for that. I did that to her."

"What did you do?" she asked gently, her tone free of judgment.

I let out a bitter laugh, rubbing a hand over my face. "When we first started... I didn't know what I was doing. I thought being a good Caregiver meant being in control all the time, and the only example I had of 'control' was my father. I thought discipline had to be harsh to be effective. So when she disobeyed me—when she tested my authority—I..." My voice faltered, and I shook my head. "I spanked her. Harder than I should have. She cried so much, and the look on her face—" I broke off, my chest tightening. "I can't forget it. I don't think I ever will."

Dr. Reeves' expression softened, but she didn't interrupt. She let the silence stretch until I found the courage to continue.

"Back then, I told myself it was necessary," I admitted. "I told myself I was teaching her to respect me, to follow the rules. But now... now I can see that I wasn't teaching her anything except fear. And even though I've tried to make up for it, I don't think she'll ever feel completely safe with me."

"What makes you think that?" she asked, her pen poised but unmoving.

"It's in everything she does," I said, my voice cracking slightly. "The way she hesitates before she speaks, like she's trying to figure out if I'll approve of what she's about to say. The way she flinches when I move too quickly. The way she tries so hard to be perfect all the time. She's afraid of making mistakes, and that's my fault."

Dr. Reeves nodded slowly, her gaze steady. "It sounds like you're carrying a lot of guilt about the way things started."

"I should," I said firmly. "I deserve it."

"Guilt can be a powerful motivator," she said, her tone even. "But it can also be a heavy burden if you let it consume you. What would Marcy say if she knew how much this weighs on you?"

I frowned, the question catching me off guard. "I don't know," I admitted. "She's been more open lately. She called me 'Daddy' for the first time a few weeks ago, and now she says it every day. But I don't feel like I've earned it. Not yet."

"And yet, she says it," Dr. Reeves pointed out. "What does that tell you?"

"That she's trying," I said quietly. "She's trying to trust me, even after everything I've done."