A Field of Lilies by Iambia

The following is an excerpt from a short story Our Good Friend Iambia is writing.

They call me Lily. They said it was because I was born with a birthmark on my left thigh that looks a lot like a real lily, just not as majestic, not as loved, not as beautiful. I’ve never felt much like a lily, so I don’t know why they decided to name me that. But it’s my name, and I’ve gotta live with it, even though it don’t feel much like the truth. But I don’t know much about the truth these days, maybe never have. My daddy told me there ain’t no truth in the world. He said the sooner I realized and accepted that, the better off I’d be. But believing that ain’t made me much better off. He still come in my room at night, whispering in my ear about mama and her triflin’ ways. He says he feel better when he touch me. And he touch me all the time, almost every night. Some nights, I pretend I like it. Other nights, I wish I were dead. The wish I were dead days come more often as the months go by.
“Daddy, I don’t wanna play tonight,” I mumbled, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
“Baby, daddy need to feel good, and mama fell asleep again,” he insisted as he pushed the door open wide, letting in the light from the hall. He was standing in his boxers, grinning like he won the lottery. I was feeling like I lost it.
“Then wake her up. I wanna sleep,” I continued, hoping he would give up.
“You can sleep afterwards,” he almost shouted, slamming the door behind him.
This is how it was every time he came in to be with me. He would never let me say no. It always had to be yes. He even came to me on the night of my thirteenth birthday, said he wanted to give me a birthday present, something special just from him. It was the first of many birthdays. I was hoping for a break that night, but after the first slap across my mouth for asking, I knew there was no use trying to stop it. So I pretended he was Sammy from my gym class. Sammy was the cutest boy in the school. But he didn’t notice me. He hardly even said hello sometimes. Sammy had all the girls chasing after him. But I wouldn’t chase him. I just watched him from a distance, hoping that one day he would see me. I saw him though. I saw him almost every time my daddy came in to be with me. I saw Sammy touching me and making me feel good. Sammy was a good lover, best there ever was. But some days, Sammy didn’t show up. And I was alone, alone in my mind with my daddy and his heavy breathing and pumping. He pumped me like I wasn’t a person, like I wasn’t there, like I was just something for him to get off on, like a blow up doll. I wished every night that someone would stick a pin in me, deflate me so he couldn’t touch me no more, so he couldn’t reach me in the places I tried to hide.