Page 186 of I Will Mend You

Muscles trembling, I push myself up to sit, but I’m still too weak to stand.

I slump against the cold tile, pouring every ounce of hatred into my glare. Now that I’m upright, I can get a better look at Dolly. She’s colored the blonde side of her hair dark brown and styled it into pigtails, making her look more like Mom.

Her dress is a low-cut gingham-blue pinafore, which she’s paired with white socks and red shoes. It’s a grotesque Wizard of Oz cosplay, which makes me want to vomit.

Tears prick the backs of my eyes, and my sinuses burn. Why the hell am I dwelling on her choice of attire when I’m going to die?

More importantly, what will they do to Xero?

Dolly pulls away from the kiss, smooths down Locke’s lapels, and gives him a pat on the ass. I would scream that she’s a backstabber, but he already knows—he was part of the duo who tranquilized Barrett and Seth, leaving them to be tortured and killed.

He exits the room, leaving me alone with Dolly, who kicks off her red heels and slides off her pinafore dress. She’s naked underneath, her body a map of faded scars. They might be identically shaped to the ones Delta inflicted on me, but his cuts were clean and precise enough to heal into thin lines. Dolly’s arejagged and cruel, a canvas of torture and pain that’s twisted her into a maniac.

Swallowing hard, I shrink to the edge of the shower, my insides roiling. Now that I have most of my memories, all I can think of is her being sent to Three Fates, then suffering untold torment for fourteen years. Her vitriol is misguided. We were both pawns. She needs to direct her need for vengeance where it belongs.

“Dolly,” I say, trying to stop my voice from trembling. “Did you know Charlotte is still alive?”

She picks up a bottle of shampoo. “What are you talking about?”

“The nanny you found murdered?”

“Kappa?” She enters the shower and squeezes half a bottle of shampoo over my head.

I gulp. “Yeah.”

“It was a prank, but you went psycho and smothered the baby. Then you killed Dad.”

“I didn’t?—”

“Hold still and stop talking.” Dolly sticks her hands in my hair and works the shampoo into a lather. “I can’t present you to the auction with green hair, stinking of sex and smoke.”

“I didn’t kill Heath. It was Kappa.”

“Nobody gives a fuck. Because of you, Dad didn’t pick me up from Three Fates. I stayed there, seducing and murdering assholes. Then I spent the rest of my teens getting raped and stabbed by sick perverts. All because of you.”

“That’s not how it happened. Dad?—”

Her fist lands in my face, making me reel backward from an explosion of pain.

I struggle against her brutal assault, trying to pull away, but Dolly holds me with an iron grip. As she digs her knuckles intomy scalp, each twist sends searing agony down my neck. I stutter out the true version of events, my voice desperate and strained.

Water stings my nose, forcing me to gasp for breath. Shampoo soap stings my eyes, making them water. Despite the burning sensation and my frantic pleas, she turns on the spray to full blast and refuses to listen. I reach out blindly, trying to ward her off, but she’s relentless.

“You’ve had fourteen years to work out an excuse with Mom.” Dolly slams my head against the wall, delivering a burst of pain that makes me see stars. “Don’t think for a second that I’ll swallow your bullshit.”

With a final vicious tug at my hair, she slams my head against the wall. Pain explodes, sharp and blinding, and I wince. When she steps back, I collapse onto the shower floor, gasping for air while my vision blurs and my head spins. Dazed and disoriented, I shiver against the onslaught of chilling water, which mingles with my tears.

The next several minutes blend into a blur. Dolly drags me out of the shower to style my hair, drowning out my explanations with the dryer. She’s colored the left side of my hair the same shade of dark brown as hers, making us once again identical.

Nothing I tell her about Delta and Dad’s shared history with the FBI is a surprise, yet she refuses to believe we were both pawns in a sick game of vengeance.

I clench my teeth as she forces me into her gingham dress. Since reasoning has failed, maybe she’ll respond to antagonism.

“If you stabbed Dad like I did, he wouldn’t have taken you to Three Fates,” I say.

“What are you talking about?” she spits.

“You sat back, knowing where you were going, and let it happen. It’s your fault you didn’t live with Mom and me.”

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