Page 39 of Dolly

Incorrect.

My breath hitches. I only have two more tries before the company calls Daddy.

Maybe I typed it wrong. Slowing my movements, I try again.

Incorrect.

Fuck!

Ken’s quiet behind me. I don’t want to disappoint him. Think. Think. Think!

“One more try, Dolly,” he whispers in my ear. He’s already come up with a plan B if I fail, yet the pressure doesn’t ease in my chest.

I take a few breaths. If Daddy changed it…what…

Four digits. My finger hovers over the first number. No choice but to try. I press my guess in.

Alarm off.

My body sags with relief. My birth year. The old me would have seen it as a sign of his love for me. Now I know it’s just another way he uses me.

“Where’s his office?” Ken asks, grasping my hand. I lead him down the hall. We take quiet steps, pausing to listen for any noise upstairs. Nothing.

Once inside Daddy’s office, I let go of his hand and press myself against the wall. I don’t belong in here. The dark mahogany paneling on the walls signals his territory. His room. Not mine. He can come into mine, but I’m never to enter his.

Ken uses his pick to get the gun case open. There’s more than I remembered. He tucks two handguns into his waist and pulls a rifle from the wall. He grabs bullets and goes about loading everything.

“Do you know how to use this?” he asks, holding up a handgun.

Daddy never let me look at them, much less touch one. “Point and shoot?” I ask.

Ken chuckles softly. “There’s more to it than that. But we don’t have time. If you need to, point and shoot.” He hands me the gun.

It’s heavier than it looks. Looking it over, I find a little switch that must be the safety and flip it off.

“No, keep it on for now.” Ken puts the safety back on for me. “Just hold onto it.” Seeing as I’ve never held a gun, it’s probably best to listen to him. Shooting myself accidentally would ruin our plans.

He cradles my hand in his and leads me from the office to the kitchen. I stay in the doorway, keeping an ear out for movement. My mother’s a light sleeper. If she hears us, she’ll get up to investigate. Drawers open and close. When Ken reappears, he’s holding a butcher knife and a cleaver.

He hands me the butcher knife and walks past me, and I follow, creeping behind him up the stairs to the second floor.

The light from my bedroom fills the hallway as we approach the top step.

“Fuck yeah.” An erotic moan escapes the same room, and we both still. Ken looks back at me, checking my expression, then taps his lips, signaling for me to keep quiet. My insides are shaking too hard to form sounds anyway.

“Daddy, no.”

I freeze. That’s my voice. Ken pulls me against the wall with him. My fingers tighten around the handle of the knife, the gun in my other hand shakes in my grip.

“Fuck yeah. Like that, Susanna. Just like that.”

Mom, I mouth to Ken.

My lungs pump short breaths. Sweat covers my brow.

Ken’s eyes narrow. He’s heard enough.

He shoves off the wall and bursts through the open door to my old bedroom. I follow. I’m not sure of much at the moment, but I know for certain I need to be with Ken.

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