Without Comprehension
She wasn't really sure what woke her up that night. From her place on her bed, underneath her fuzzy blue rabbit print sheets, she felt comfortable if very alert. The apartment was quiet; it had to be two or three in the morning and even her Daddy had to be asleep by then. After closing her eyes and laying there for a few minutes without any drowsiness setting in, she decided to get up and have a mug of warm milk in the kitchen.
The hallway was silent save for the hum of the air conditioning, the cold air quietly hissing through the vents. She tiptoed across the vinyl floor despite knowing she didn't really have to; even if her Daddy caught her, he'd merely laugh and join her late night expedition—he might even take out that tube of frozen cookie dough in the freezer and bake a few treats for her.
As she passed by the door to his bedroom, she noticed it was a crack open. A few inches, just enough for her to peek in. It wasn't anything unusual but it still caught her attention—prank potential. Curious, she looked in.
Of course it was pretty dark in the room, but her eyes were adjusted to it by then. The dim city lights that streamed through the windows showed her Daddy splayed out on top of his bed, lying quiet and still, with his eyes closed. It was nothing interesting; she was about to walk off before she noticed the sounds.
It was a rustling coming from the bed. It wasn't her Daddy tossing and turning in a nightmare—he was lying too still for that, and the sound was rhythmic, fast. Looking again, however, she noticed that one of his hands was underneath the sheets and there the cloth was moving. Now and then, he would make a low sound, a grunt or a groan--and though they were still controlled, still quiet, they were getting more frequent.
She watched, frozen in place. The rustling grew quicker—her Daddy began to writhe underneath the sheets. Finally, his body jerked and he breathlessly murmured out a name—one she didn't recognize. As he lay there, breathing hard, she hurriedly tiptoed off lest she be detected.
Instead of heading towards the kitchen, she went back towards the direction of her bedroom. She had seen something she wasn't supposed to see, a side of her Daddy he probably never wanted her to be aware of. Questions buzzed in her mind as she got back to her bed and into her still-warm sheets. Who did that name belong to? Why was he alone and not with them? How many other things like this did her Daddy keep from her, and was it for her sake?
But the most confusing thought she had, as she shut her eyes and tried to fall back asleep, was that look that had been on her Daddy's face. The way he had tilted his head back and clenched his jaw, eyes tightly closed. Those hushed noises he made, those groans. They confused her. She touched herself underneath the sheets, trying to mirror the rustling she had seen and wondering how much more about her Daddy she didn't know.