Three hours later, Dad was back... without milk. Instead, he staggered through the door and collapsed at the bottom of the stairs as drunk as a skunk. I emerged from the lounge with a look of disgust on my face; he smelt terrible. God, everything was starting to smell terrible these days. I pulled him into a seated position and grinned when he looked at me with pure shock. Honestly, it was almost as though he couldn't remember how he got there.

"There was nooooo milk!" He sang, shaking his head as he swayed.

"Of course not." I wrinkled my nose - oh dear lord he STANK! I tugged him up the stairs with great difficulty; I'd done this a few times before - mainly after he broke up with long-term girlfriends. I sat him on the edge of his rickety old double bed and crouched down to yank off his shoes.

HOLY HELL HIS FEET REEKED.

Then something happened that i would rather not mention. Oh GOD! It was the most... wrongest thing in the history of mankind... I just couldn't... No... I never...

He kissed me.

He kissed me.

My father kissed me.

There was a moment of almost comical hilarity as both our eyes widened and leapt away from each other as fast as we could; Dad slipping off the edge of the bed and plastering himself against the peeling paint while i slammed my back against the broken wardrobe with a dull THUD. We were both breathing heavily, staring at each other for answers. He had balled his hands into fists and locked his jaw into what i knew was his furious thinking face. I, on the other hand, had simply frozen with shock. I mean, HE HAD KISSED ME!

"I... Ella I..." He started feebly, suddenly sober and very very shocked. "Holy... I didn't mean to..."

I took a sharp breath, "Dad..." Then, after a moment's pause I added, "Daddy..." This had to made clear... Father and daughter relationship only! "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy..." I chanted this aloud, eyes clenched shut and nails ripping into my palms.

This was wrong on so many levels. This was NOT at all right.

I felt him pull me into a comfortable embrace, one hand on my shoulder, the other stroking my hair as he nestled me under his chin - A father-daughter position.

"Ella, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. It doesn't mean anything. You're my daughter, my little girl." He was choking out his mantra repeatedly, rocking with me in his arms. Oh dear God this was wrong.

So wrong.

So very very wrong.