So, this is my new fanfic, I had this idea late last night and really liked how it turned out. I have never written in this style before so please give me your thoughts. I really wanted to explore how Chloe feels surrounding her birth and knowing that she was brought into the world by rape. It must be hard for anyone to not know who their dad is, but when you were born because of that there are a million more questions running through your mind. I've done a lot of research surrounding the trauma and guilt of being born from rape and it's very sad. I hope you enjoy this story, I am planning on it being about 10 chapters, but we shall see! Thank you.
Chapter 1
It was always this day, every year, this one day, that would make Chloe feel funny. She can't quite her finger on what it is about this day. Perhaps it was the all the years in primary school when they were told to make a Father's Day card and she would just sit there not knowing what to write on her piece of paper. Or the Father's Day coffee morning that she used to go to with her best friend's dad instead. Or the church service dedicated to all the dads, which she would take the flowers handed out at the end, not knowing who to give them too. Maybe now as an adult, it was looking around the shops, seeing the day plastered everywhere, on every street corner. The radio stations driving into work shouting out all the dads in the world. All Chloe knows, is that every single day on Father's Day, she feels wrong.
The blonde stirs the powder with a small bit of oat milk, sighing as she glances out of the kitchen window, the sun bursting through the green leaves of the tree in the garden. Why she lets this day get to her, she will never know, but from a young age, she has hated this day. Of course, she didn't know why she was the only girl in her class in primary school who didn't have a dad, well apart from Ailsa whose dad had died in an accident. But she had never met her dad, didn't know his name, and all 7 year old Chloe can remember is every time she asked her mum about him, her mum would say she didn't need to have a dad, that she was her dad and mum all together. When Chloe was older, at 14, she found out the truth, her and Blair were sneaking off to a party, dressed in very tight short skirts, with way too much makeup on. Ange had spotted them, walking down the street, on a freezing October evening, ordered them both into her car, dropped Blair home and given Chloe a right earful. Chloe can remember how her mum had kept going on and on about how dangerous they were being, how anything could have happened, how they didn't know who was out there. Of course, Chloe being the stubborn, outspoken teenager and retaliated telling her mum she was being ridiculous, that they were perfectly safe, and that was when the bomb had dropped. Ange breaking down, telling Chloe that she hadn't been perfectly safe when she was 16, walking home after hanging around with the wrong crowd in a carpark. That she was followed by a friend's older friend, only two streets down from her warm, safe home, and forced into an empty field, raped numerous times. It had only taken Chloe 10 minutes to work out the ages and the time sequence before the realisation hit. The only reason she was here, that she was living, and breathing was because her mother was raped.
The blonde woman jumped when her phone start buzzing aggressively on the table behind her, spinning around gently, coffee in hand she picked up her phone, rolling her eyes when she realised it was her mother.
'Hey mum, what's up?'
'Hi darling, nothing much, do you fancy coming over for a takeaway tonight? I finish at 6 so would be home around half past?' Her mums voice called out, very clearly distracted by paperwork or something.
'Yeah sounds like a plan. How's work?' The blonde asked, moving over to her sofa and folding her legs gently underneath her. She heard a sigh on the other end of the phone, immediately she knew her mother was stressed.
'Busy, and we're short staffed today, Fletch had to get agency nurses and they are useless.' Ange replied, Chloe rolled her eyes, she knew how picky her mum was, and probably the agency nurses where doing nothing wrong, just not up to mum's high standard.
'Well I'll let you go, I have an episode of Love Island to catch up on. See you later.' Chloe called out before hanging up the call and turning the T.V on.
Some time later, the love island episode over, and the de-constructing of the episode with Dom finished the blonde found herself aimlessly scrolling through Instagram, her whole feed consumed by the fact that it was Father's Day. Post after post praising dad's, for all that they do, Chloe could feel the confusion, anger and hurt filling her small body. What praise could she give a man that raped her mum, why should she be made to say thank-you to a man that violently attacked a young, vulnerable girl, walking home one evening. The girls mind often wondered to who her father was, what he looked like, did she look like him, she knew she had her mum's eyes, but the pale skin, the blonde hair, that was all him. Mum always said her biggest regret was not reporting him or the rape, this fuelled Chloe's curiosity sometimes. What was he doing now days, did he rape other young women, was he brought to justice, or was it just an isolated incident? Was he now some ordinary man, with a family of his own? The possibility was endless, this was what terrified Chloe the most. Not knowing who he was. Not knowing who she was. Not truly. Mum was always adamant that Chloe was a million percent her, no man regardless of DNA was going to change that. But Chloe knew differently, she knew she had inherited some of his personality and mannerisms, and she hated that. She hated that she came from him. She hated that she was born as a result of what he had done. But that was the past, and this was the present. And right now, Chloe wanted to find this man, she wanted to look him in the eye and say, 'this is what you done, I am the result of what you done.' So that afternoon, the blonde girl searched up How to find your biological dad. In her phone, her foot anxiously tapping on the floor, waiting to find the answer she was so desperately looking for. The results offered no hope or reassurance, since she was pretty sure that there was no DNA of her dad lying around anywhere, it was all going to have to be through searching and questioning. Chloe knew her mum hated talking about her dad, to her mum he was this insignificant part of the equation, he meant nothing, and refused to talk about him. But Chloe knew her mum better than that, she knew it was all defence mechanisms, a way for her mum to cope, wall's she had built up a long time ago, to protect herself, to protect both of them. However, Chloe was stubborn, and curious, and more than anything, she wanted justice. Justice for herself and justice for her mum.
