Rewriting Eighteen

In my previous life, I had no idea the "exclusive 18th birthday bash" my daughter attended was actually a hunting ground.

So, when she begged me to let her wear that new red slip dress out, I played the open-minded, cool dad and said yes.

I stood by and watched my beautiful, butterfly-like daughter walk straight into a trap.

It wasn't until 1:00 AM that she finally came home. Her red dress was torn. Her eyes were entirely hollow.

I asked her what was wrong, but she just shook her head.

I reached out to hug her, and she flinched, violently trembling.