Daddy's Little Girl

She was a poised for perfection fashionista that had never worked a day in her life. As long as “Daddy’s” credit cards kept flowing she was happy and content, or so believed. In truth, that only the garbage man knew she was a pill happy girl that liked her bottles of red. Although she tried to hide it all under the thousands of dollars of price tags from Chanel to Dior she could never quite hide the ’65 Merlot, or the bottle of Prozac to help numb the pain. She was daddy’s little girl and was always there to support him when he needed a “face of perfection” for a business party or a picture taken for the media. She was always there, but when was he there for her? He sent roses to her ballet recital when she four, to make up for his VIP seat that was left bare. The diamond necklace that shone on her frail neck was shaped in a heart to show his love when he was to busy in Paris for her first day of school. He bought her a pearly white Bentley when he missed her graduation from high school. The house she lived in was a gift for her graduation from Yale University. One day, a Wednesday, as the garbage truck barreled around the corner, then stopped at the large estate that belonged to “Daddy’s little girl”. The garbage man walked over to her pink trashcan. Picking it up to empty into the back of the truck, out fell only three items. No price tags this time, only a bottle of Valium, a bottle of vintage merlot, and the diamond heart necklace.