4 BRAND: She Belongs Here (1/2)

”You should've asked your girlfriend what brand she wears. All women use tampons right now.” She points to the second aisle.

”Thanks.” I say and goes to that direction immediately.

Shit! The cashier is right. There are many brands out here to choose from. How the hell will I know which is the best for my girl. My heart does a double take. 'My girl'? Shit! Whatever.

I grab one pack and read the back packaging for its usage. I cringe at the procedure on how to put it inside the vagina. Are they really putting it inside? It's horrible to share that to Heather, more importantly on showing her how. I mean, I think by her age, she's already been told and taught about sex education but she's still a child to my eyes.

Grabbing another packaging, I read once more. This one is a lot bigger than the other and I make more comparison. It says pads, something that sticks on the panties to catch the bleeding. This thing isn't invasive and a lot safer to explain to Heather.

I snatch pack after pack until it fills my whole basket. I also grab some necessities for her like RTW clothes and underwear and a few healthy snacks for her in case she gets hungry during the night.

The cashier arches her brow at the items I bring to the counter. What? I don't have a clue how many goddamn pads I should buy and how long will the bleeding lasts so I'm buying Heather until her debut. Wait, what did I just mean about until her debut? She's only staying for the night. I tell myself.

My eyes immediately scan my apartment as soon as I step inside my living room, shutting the door close with my heel before the lock automatically clicks. After putting the grocery on the kitchen counter and bringing one pack of pads with me, I softly knock against my bathroom door.

”Heather? Aren't you done, yet?”

”I'm done.” She says in between sobs that I cringe, cursing once more at her miserable sound.

”I'm going in, ok?” I ask before pushing the door open, peering inside and search for Heather. ”Oh, baby. What's going on?” I rush down to the corner where she curls in a ball. ”I bought you pads. Here, let me show you how to put it.”

”I hurt, daddy.” Heather whines, still tightly curled and clutching her stomach.

”I asked you earlier if you're hurt, you said you're not.” I grab for the towel and wipe her wet, golden locks. ”Where do you hurt, sweetheart?” I frantically ask, not knowing what to do with her anymore.

”I'm not hurt from Mistress Lea's treatment. I mean my stomach hurts.”