to speak with soft, hushed sounds, using the breath, lips, etc., but with no vibration of the vocal cords.
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The clock ticked, so did Lucy’s heart. She laid awake in her bed, face towards the ceiling and could hear her father’s footsteps downstairs, he was preparing for his usual ritual; news by 10 p.m, a quick shower, munch at anything edible available and then take a short nap.
A nap that ended once the clock ticked 12 a.m. He had never missed that time in the two years of his everyday incense, everyday except Sundays when he would give her money to get her hair made, freshen up in preparation for the week ahead.
He never allowed her go to church, not since the affair started; even stopped her from going to school. She had been home schooled since their affair; he was too scared to allow her the freedom that came with going to church or school. All appeal to make him have a change of mind had fallen on deaf ears.
It all started after her mother’s death; he had been totally destabilized, they both had been. Lucy had found refuge in her books while her father had simply turned her into a vessel for his sexual satisfaction.
The clock ticked faster, his footsteps drew nearer. What and how she felt was simply beyond her comprehension; but now wasn’t a time to give in to her fears, not after making it this far. She knew within her that tonight was going to be different; different for her, different for her father and most importantly, for the subsequent days ahead.
She was ready for the worst, what really could be worse than living every passing moment of her life in hell right under her own roof. Her father’s loud belch further announced his presence in her room. A room which had no door; her father had forcefully removed it the night she attempted locking him out.