Be a Good Kitten For Daddy (BxM)

Chapter Fifteen

Hey guys! I just wanted to let you know I might not post again for awhile. My grades aren't the best rn and I really need to try my best to get them up within like three weeks. So until then I probably won't update. I'm sorry, but I just want to have the best grades possible for when report cards come out and I just need to focus my attention on my hw and tests and shit. But I hope you enjoy this chapter!! Also thank you for all the love and support on the book! Make sure to vote, comment, and follow me so you'll know when the next chapter is out!

TRIGGER WARNING: Talk of rape, suicidal thoughts, self harming, abuse, and suicide.

Harper's POV

I watch Cooper get out of the bed and walk over to where I had thrown his clothes. He puts on his shorts and, what was mine, sweatshirt. He then starts to the door but I get up and block the door before he can leave.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm going to the kitchen, Harper, I can't very well tell you a lifetime story without a glass of water. Screaming your name makes a bitch thirsty." He says with a smirk and leans up to peck me on the lips. I move out of his way and let him go downstairs. I go to my closet and grab a pair of sweatpants and put them on. Then I walk down and into the kitchen where Cooper is sitting at the island with a glass of water. I sit next to him and he looks at me.
He smiles a worried smile, "Are you sure you want to know?"
"Yes Cooper. We've been dating for almost three months and I know how you got your scars, and that your relationship with your mother isn't the best. I also know you don't like pancakes, which is weird, but that's a different conversation. I want to know you, the good, the bad, and the ugly."
He nods and leans over to give me another kiss. His kisses are so sweet and gentle when he wants them to be, and I love it. He sits back in his stool and grabs my hand, "Alright, but you can't be scared of me when I tell you the whole story."
"Who says I'm not scared of you now?" I say and he smiles, fake slapping my knee. "I won't baby, I promise."
"Okay... well, it kinda starts with when I came out to my parents. When I did, my dad was whole heartedly ok with it. My mom didn't really understand it, she said she still loved me, but she didn't treat me the same. At the time I was only twelve, which was early, but I just felt ready. When I noticed she would treat me differently I was upset, but I just thought it was kind of like an adjusting period. My dad never treated me different, though.
"About a year after I came out, my dad killed himself. I came home after school and walked in the bathroom and saw him in the tub with a bullet hole in his head. I called nine-one-one and they came. They took me to the police station and gave me a letter. They said that he left it on my bed with my name on it. The envelope said to not let my mom see the letter, so I didn't, I didn't even let myself see it. I still haven't seen it.
"Anyways, after the funeral was the first time I saw my mom drunk. She came home after dropping me off and leaving me home for hours, drunk, stumbling, and slipping. I helped her to bed and before she went to sleep she told me, 'I knew he couldn't live with having a faggot for a son.'" He takes a breath, and looks at me, after not for the entirety of his speech. He is teary-eyed, so I grab his hand and nod, encouraging him to go on.
"I tried not to think about it, but I did anyway. Which led me to not want to open the letter. Soon her drinking was happening every Friday night. Every Friday night turned to every weekend, the whole weekend. Then she started going to the bar whenever she felt like it. Then, she was going everyday. Then, she started coming home with guys. Then, those guys would see me, and they'd... they'd try and rape me. Some even did it, but at that point I had just given up trying to fight it.
"While she was mourning her way, I was mourning my own way. I started fucking around, getting fucked almost everyday. At the time I was only thirteen or fourteen, but I messing around with guys who were like seventeen or older. And at that point, I was so brainwashed by the guys she would bring home, that I would even bring some over when she wasn't there. It wasn't healthy, but it's what I did, and I'm so disgusted about it.
"One time, she walked in on me with a guy she had already fuck. Up until this point, she was too drunk to notice me half the time, but after that, all she did was notice me. She would call me names, push, slap, punch, kick, and even choke me at times. But the worst thing she would do was blame my father's death on me. She would say I was the reason he put a bullet in his head and that I should do it. She wouldn't let me go to his grave because she didn't want his killer there.
"I did my best to not let it get to me. But of course, it did, because why wouldn't it? I started believing that I killed my dad, cutting, and getting really slutty. I must have had at least fifty numbers of boys who wanted to fuck before I met you. And those were the ones I didn't block. Sex was just a way for me to release my stress, when cutting wasn't working. I haven't cut in awhile, and when I met you, something told me to stop being such a hoe.
"The only ones who know what she's done are me, Emily, her, and now you. And now, she's 'sober' and wants to talk. She wants to make amends, but I'm not ready. I probably will never be ready. I just can't wait until I'm able to live without her coming to your's and Emily's doorstep every week. I just don't want to talk to her, when I see her, I see her pushing me down the stairs to the basement, breaking two of my ribs. When I hear her talk all I hear is her calling me names. I'm not ready to talk to her. I want to be sometimes, but I'm not."
I stare at Cooper in amazement. Amazement at how someone, who goes through all of that, is still standing here today. After the semi-awkward silence Cooper does a little finger gun dance and sings, "And that's the story all about how my life got flipped turned upside down." With a giggle at the end of it. I laugh and shake my head. I reach over and grab him, he's easy to lift, which makes me want to hold him all the time.
I sit him on my lap and press my forehead against his and look at him. "You... you... are the strongest person I have ever met. I've never heard anyone go-"
He cuts me off and shushes me, "Harper, please don't say that. I'm not strong. I am weak, very weak. So weak that there are times where I still believe that I killed my father. There are times where I feel I deserved what I got, because of what my mother said. So please, please don't call me strong. Just look at me the same way you did yesterday."
"I'm sorry babes, but that's not going to happen. You are strong. She was horrible to you, and you deserved better. But you're still here, that takes some balls, babes. Hell, I think you have bigger balls than me." I say and smirk, and he bursts into a fit of giggles.
"Maybe," he says, "but you have to promise me. You won't ever ever ever ever invite her in, talk to her, make her feel welcomed, or tell her anything about me ever. Okay?"
I look down at him and gulp, "Okay, babes. I won't talk to her or bring her in this house... again."