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Adara didn’t know how she would react after her father came home.
She guessed it was because she assumed that he would never come, that he had abandoned them, that he had died.
It had been weeks since he had returned, and the newly reunited Ithacan royal family had adjusted to a semi-normal state. Most of the time had passed smoothly, especially as Telemachus went back to helping the people and her parents had transitioned back to court work. Odysseus caught up with Penelope, lovebirds together every chance they could get. He trained with Telemachus every other day.
But Adara had avoided one-on-one time with him as much as she could. She didn’t trust him.
She wasn’t sure he was safe.
One morning, she woke, and the new normal had vanished as quickly as it had appeared. It was a storm inside—Adara’s heart fluttering and pounding, chest screeching as it ached for air. Everything and nothing were too much. The memories were a weight, suppressing her smile. She could barely move without a flashback.
A hand on her shoulder.
Oh Addy, come on, don’t be afraid.
Fingers splayed on her chest.
You’re so good to me.
Gripping her wrists.
Yes… be quiet now, yes, yes.
Rubbing her thighs.
Open wide, baby. Such a good whore.
She couldn’t cry, she couldn’t scream. She had been threatened with her mother’s love and her brother’s life. A guard had been killed after learning the secret, blood still visible in the cracks of the stone. Telemachus yelled at her for being distant, for not doing anything to help the situation. Penelope barely had a chance to breathe in her direction, running the entire kingdom alone.
Since her father’s return, things had been kinder, but everyone was still far away.
And now… she was the only one alive who knew what had happened.
The morning was young as her heart raced, and she knew the day was off to a bad start. She wanted, how dearly, to hide it. To get up and put on her distant mask and be normal. Her mind, though, had other plans, so she stayed sitting in bed.
A knock came at the door.
“Please don’t,” she instantly shot back. “Please. I promise I didn’t tell. Please.” She was begging, not again, not again, not again—
“Adara, love? It’s your father.”
He had started calling her ‘love’ from the first days back; he had asked, and she had conceded, if only to please him at the time. But the nickname grew on her, and in that moment, it grounded her back to reality.
She heard his voice through the door again. “Can…I come in?”
“Yes,” she responded, just loud enough for him to hear.
He came in with a hesitant look on his face, but he didn’t back away. “Tel and your mom are headed into town for a little bit, so I thought I would come by. But it doesn’t look like you’re feeling too well.” His eyes softened.
She realized that she looked like utter chaos. He saw the sweat on her brow, her rumpled hair—no wonder he thought she was sick. And, in a way, she was, just not physically.
Her heart yelled conflicting things at her.
Tell him to go, he can’t love you.
Stay, please, you shouldn’t be alone.
He will hurt you.
I think he’s the only safe place.
Run.
Hide.
Freeze.
Addy, Addy, let’s keep this a secret.
She flinched and blurted out, “Please, stay,” before she could stop herself.
“Of course.” Odysseus’s shoulders dropped an inch. For once, she didn’t push him away, but that didn’t really mean he knew what he was doing.
Adara stood, pulling down her blue night dress from where it stuck to her sweaty skin. She led the two of them toward the balcony. The servants had left up the curtains outdoors, giving them some shade but leaving the ability to see the shore. They stood for a few minutes not speaking, soaking in the breeze. Odysseus liked how his daughter was patient, like she didn’t need a million words to spend time with someone.
He broke the quiet. “Are you feeling okay?”
But she… she was long gone. Her mind had rioted so quickly, it was like he wasn’t there with her at all. She could feel Antinous’s body against her, pressing her against the wall. She could see the hickeys he left along her neckline, which he liked to say were just proof that she was his. In short, she was drowning.
“Adara?”
Adara pushed her hands up to her eyes, and tears began to flow for the first time in months. She turned to her father, weeping. “I needed you.” Her anger began to flare up, finally allowed to break free. “I needed you, I needed you, and you weren’t there, and they hurt me.”
Her hands flew into her hair, clutching at it like it was a lifeline.
“If you—if you hadn’t gone, if you stayed, they wouldn’t have taken everything, and I wouldn’t be broken.” A sob wretched its way out of Adara’s mouth. She pressed the back of her hand to her lips. “It hurts, it hurts, I can’t… I can still feel him everywhere! And you weren’t there to stop him! Where were you?” Her voice was becoming hoarse. “He took everything and enjoyed it, enjoyed my body, and now here I am…”
She sank to her knees. Her body was failing her, unable to handle the waves and waves of emotions that were finally allowed to express themselves.
Only I will ever love you like this.
Antinous’s pants and grunts echoed in her head on repeat—she felt unable to breathe.
Mm, I like that.
Hands.
Take it, Addy.
Nails.
Shhh, I know, it feels so good.
Shivers.
I’ll know if you tell them.
Ache.
… The reality snapped in place in Odysseus’s mind, and it shattered him. His daughter was raped. Repeatedly. He wanted to retch. He wanted to scream. To kill those disgusting men over again wouldn’t be enough. It also hit him that Penelope didn't know, and neither did Telemachus. She had been suffering alone for so long.
He got down on his knees next to his daughter on the stone, opening his arms. “Oh, love, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” She wasn't going to be alone anymore.
Adara leaned against her father’s chest, and his arms wrapped around her with a ferocity and tenderness she had never known. She cried harder, letting every sob seep between her teeth. They stayed like that for a long while, and eventually, he picked her up and sat her back on the bed. The crying didn’t stop, morphing into severe shaking. He could tell she could barely breathe.
“Take a breath, I’m right here with you. Deep breath.” Gentle circles were drawn on her back as she tried breathing. “Yep, keep breathing, Adara.” Her breath finally slowed, but only because she was outright exhausted.
She began going more limp in his hold.
“Dad?” she whispered.
“Yes?”
“Don’t leave again.” A childlike faith, stuffed between yawns and heavy blinks.
“Never, love.”