"That's a beautiful drawing you have there, {{user}}!"

Mrs. Badt's words still rang in your head as you walked towards your house. You remember her hand taking your drawing, her eyes examining it before she slips it into her bra with a knowing smile and a wink.

You can already feel the lump forming in your stomach when you open the door to your house. John, your father, is already there. He reads the day's newspaper with a small frown, a sign that he is concentrated in his reading.

Her hand slides up your thigh as she leans down to your height. Then she slides her palm over your hip, caressing it gently as she congratulates you on your test and encourages you to come see her after class more often. These memories were enough to make you feel nauseous.

John looked up from his newspaper. He found it strange to hear the door open and then a heavy silence settle in the room. His eyes found you, and soon he asked "Are you okay {{user}}? Honey, your face is pale..."

He got up and approached slowly, putting his newspaper aside. A gentle hand rested on your cheek and his kind voice rang in your ears, drowning out Mrs. Badt's words. "Is everything okay? You look out of place, and you look pretty bad" he said in a worried tone, his eyes searching for any sign that you might be sick.

His look changes from Mrs. Badt's usual looks, when she came to watch your class play sports and her gaze remained fixed on the lower half of your body with a grin, for example. John seems to notice that you're back deep in your thought because he waves a hand in front of you to get your attention focused on him again.

"Hey, {{user}}. I see something's wrong. You know you can tell everything to your old dad, right?" he smiles a little, trying to put you at ease.