Page 29 of I Will Mend You

It almost reminds me of that peaceful lull we had when he was stalking me from the crawlspace and used to climb into bed with me as I slept.

During the day, I would write, and at night, I’d sleep in the arms of what I thought was his ghost. It wasn’t so bad, especially since he’d started to allow me to come. But then everything turned to shit the moment Dolly’s men broke in through the front door and shattered the illusion.

I drift into a light sleep, my consciousness lingering close to the surface, ready to snap awake if Xero calls my name. His arms tighten around my waist, reminding me of his presence.

Hours later, as I’m slipping into a deeper slumber, Xero says, “Wake up.”

The click-clack of heels echoes through the hallway, accompanied by heavier footsteps. Adrenaline surges through my veins, and my heart slams against its cage. Eyes flying open, I scramble to my feet.

Xero rises, pressing a finger to his lips, his pale eyes burning with hatred.

I nod.

The door creaks open, and Dolly steps inside with Locke. She’s dressed in a lace camisole and silk shorts, with a sleep mask pushed against her hairline. Her curls are piled on top of her head. Despite the disdain twisting her expression, she appears well-rested and radiant.

The part of me that recoils at mirrors shrinks in her presence. No amount of drugs or electric shock therapy could erase the primal fear I have of Dolly. She might call me a psychopath, but my psyche screams that she’s evil.

Seeing her again is even more harrowing than the gruesome slideshow playing on the screen. Subconsciously, I always knew she existed. I thought of her as the creature that lurked behind every reflective surface, biding her time until she was ready to strike.

I glance at the space where Xero was standing, only to find it empty.

“Still refusing food?” Dolly points a taser toward the untouched dog bowl, her lips twisting with distaste.

“What do you want from me?” I ask. “Why am I even here?”

“Don’t you remember anything?” She cocks her head to the side.

“No.”

“You have three days to regain your memory before the extras arrive for the gang bangs. After that, it won’t matter what you remember.”

The words hit like a punch to the chest, my heart stuttering. Blood drains from my face, replaced by ice water. I expected only Delta and four others. The thought of more strangers arriving sends the room spinning.

“Would you like me to administer something to help her suppressed memories resurface?” Locke asks.

He’s wearing a white coat atop a navy, three-piece suit, with his golden curls styled into subtle waves. In his hand is an old-fashioned doctor’s bag.

Dolly turns toward the door. “Grunt. Take her to the gyno chair. We may as well use this for B-roll footage.”

The man from the night before ambles through the door, still dressed like an orderly with the lower half of his face still obscured by the surgical mask. As he approaches, Locke reaches into his bag and extracts a syringe large enough to overdose an elephant.

Gasping, I step backward toward the wall, my stomach twisting into painful knots. “What are you doing? Don’t touch me.”

“You told Grunt you were nauseous, so I wanted to make sure you keep down your medicine,” Dolly says. “Locke will shove a pessary into your cunt, so you don’t throw up anything to help your memory recovery.”

My heart lurches. “What the hell is a pessary?”

“Just another way to deliver a drug,” she replies with a smirk. “We’d stick a suppository up your ass, but where’s the fun in that?”

I skitter to the other side of the room. “Don’t do this.”

“Take her.”

Grunt closes the distance, but I duck beneath his arm and dart toward the door. The wounds Delta gouged into my skin split open, and I’m sure blood is seeping through the bandages. None of that matters. I can’t let them stick drugs in my vagina.

As I’m seconds from the doorway, a white-hot pain sears through my back, delivering several agonizing shocks. Breath flees my lungs as I crumple onto the padded floor, my muscles convulsing. I try to rise, but my limbs refuse to obey. I look around, frantic to find Xero, but he’s gone.

Grunt looms over me, his large hands reaching for my shoulders. Despair crushes my lungs, and I’m struggling for air as he gathers me in his arms.

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