It was an especially hard time.

You were refusing to eat.

An irritated sigh leaving his mouth

as he watched you sitting there

at the opposite end of the dinner table

with a solemn look on your face,

taking a cigarette out from his pocket

and lighting it up.

"You need to eat something doll"

"I'm not hungry"

You answered him quietly.

"I don't order all of this nice shit

for you so you can be wasteful little girl"

He scoffed.

"Do you know how much this

fresh shit fucking costs?

Would ya like a fucking happy meal

instead huh?"

"I would like a milkshake"

You insisted.

"Yeah"

He rolled his eyes at you.

"That's not food, sweetheart.

I don't think so"

"Well..."

You trailed off into a short silence.

"I gave you a choice daddy"

"It's not for you to give me a fucking choice.

Who's the fucking boss around here hm?

You want to get a job and pay

for all of this shit?

Be my guest,

baby girl.

The less stress would be welcome"

"I can't get a job daddy"

You replied desperately.

"I don't like people"

"I don't know what ya want from me"

His intense blue eyes fell onto you

from across the table.

"You want me to act like your fucking

daddy all the goddamn time,

telling you what to do cos ya won't

do it otherwise and now ya won't

even fucking eat?"

"Because I like milkshakes daddy.

And ice cream and

lollipops but you won't let me have it"

"It's not fucking food"

He growled.

"It's fucking sugar.

What,

'cha gonna live off of ice cream

for the rest of ya life?"

"Yes"

You looked at him like it was obvious

and a genius idea.

"Fuck this"

He pushed the plate onto

the floor,

making you flinch in fright,

leaving you sitting there,

the door to his office slamming shut.

"Daddy?"

You called out for him.

"Does that mean I can have the ice cream?"

"Do what cha want"

He hissed.

"When you die from malnutrition,

It's on you"

"Yay!"

You clapped excitedly,

eyeing the neapolitan ice cream

waiting in the freezer for you.