Page 23 of Dolly

“It tastes good.” I pop the last bite into my mouth and have to swallow hard to get it all down. My mouth waters for the second one. They haven’t given me this much food at one time, and I’m not going to waste a single crumb.

“I need you to listen to me now, okay?” He takes a bite of his muffin, and the expression on his face sends an electric current through me. Bliss. He’s happy.

“Good, right?” I ask with a grin.

“Delicious.” He takes another bite. “But you have to listen. I have an idea.” He twists the white plastic cap off the water and takes several gulps before he continues. “When Beardman comes down to take us upstairs, I’m hoping he’ll take us both at the same time. If he does, you keep your eyes on me. Do everything I tell you.”

I was right. He has a plan.

“If we try to fight him, they’ll make it worse.” I wasn’t smart when I first got here, but I learned.

“If we do nothing, we’ll never get out of here.” He trains his eyes on me. “We can’t just keep going along with them. We have to get out.”

“He’ll hurt you—”

“I won’t let him hurt you, I swear it. You just follow what I say, okay?” His voice is hard, demanding.

“You’re bossier with a full stomach.” I frown.

He laughs, and it’s the sweetest melody I’ve ever heard.

“You haven’t seen anything yet. Now, be a good girl and do what I say, okay?” Little crinkles crease his eyes as he smiles.

“Okay.” Getting to see him smile and hear more of his laugh is worth whatever punishment they come up with.

I drink down the last of my second bottle of water and lean back against the cold cinderblock wall, taking a deep breath. I can’t remember the last time I felt so full.

And sleepy.

I rub the heels of my hands into my eyes.

“I should get dressed.” I push up from the ground and scoop up the dress. Beardman could be down in ten minutes or three hours, but if I’m not dressed, he’ll take the prod to my ass before we start the show. And the cuts and welts from the last request have finally stopping itching.

“Dolly? Dolly.” Ken’s voice pulls my attention away from fumbling with the sash. “Are you feeling okay?” His brow is wrinkled, and he’s lying on the ground, staring up at me. The empty bottles are lined up neatly outside his cell door, the muffin wrappers too.

“I’m just sleepy. I’m fine,” I say as my mind swirls. I blink a few times and steady myself as best as I can to finish tying the bow

I reach down to pick up the slippers, but my head takes another turn, and I stumble to the floor. The room spins, taking my stomach with it.

“Ken?” I try to twist so I can see him, but the little movement sends my head into a tailspin again. “I’m going to close my eyes for a minute,” I tell him, but he doesn’t respond. “Ken?” My lids weigh down. I’m a weak dolly.

I don’t hear if he answers before the darkness embraces me.

Twelve

KENDOLL

Igulp in a deep breath as my eyes flash open.

Where am I?

Movement is answered with failure. I’m bound again, upright. Not to the pulleys, to a post. I drag in more air, clearing out whatever shit they pumped into me with those muffins. They were so moist, so delicious, I’d inhaled them.

“Finally,” a deep voice says, and I squint against the lights to see the Beardman standing across the room.

The fucker. They drugged us to get us out of the cells easier.

Dolly!

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