Page 135 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
“He hasn’t asked to see me. He’s like the only guy on the app who hasn’t sprouted out the words,let’s meet up…even after I phone-sexed him.”
“Are you talking to any of the others?”
“Only him. I deleted the app. We text now.”
I continue busying myself by reorganizing cupcakes, trying to keep my mind off why Lucky hasn’t asked to see me. Why didn’t he ask for my address last night so he could come around?
In my drunken state, I may have even given it to him.
“I figured. So maybe we just go for an hour and not hold him up all night. Wednesday is charity night, right? We could make a donation. I could grab a cupcake, and we’ll have a dance. Then, get a pizza on the way home. What do you say?”
I sigh, my eyes on Annabelle.
I should say no, but curiosity gets the better of me.
CHAPTER 31
Ambrose—age nine
It’s still dark down here. The light is still out. The dirty water is up over my knees now. I’m almost sure it’s getting deeper. I’m sure Dollie is getting skinnier as she stands in front of me with water up to her thighs.
Using my balled-up T-shirt, I help her scrub the blood from her legs, praying not to touch anything that will trigger the voice in my head.
Her accident happened yesterday, but embarrassment kept her away from me until that invisible crocodile returned.
Chattering teeth prevent me from holding my breath. I move my tongue around my mouth and feel a new adult tooth poking through my gum. My tongue moves to the other vacant space where a tooth will never fill.
A wave of sadness washes over me, and then another, knowing that somewhere outside, other children are enjoying freedom and my favorite time of year.
Fall.
Colin told us yesterday that Halloween will be soon.
I’m past crying over things we won’t get. Pumpkins and enough fake blood to scare the locals forever. I let go of thethoughts of the town fearing my name, as a patch of old blood refuses to move from Dollie’s thigh without a fight.
If it were any darker in this room, I wouldn’t see it.
I bend a little lower, straining my wounded stomach. Dirty water splashes my healing wounds, and whispers of infection tease my ears.
The voice.
Slap Dollie for creating this mess, or you’ll get infected and die.
Colin had been exceptionally cruel yesterday. He threatened Dollie with a knife. He told her he’d cut the pain right out of her.
I couldn’t let that happen.
My skin begged, slash after slash across my ribs and chest, for a break. For him to pick on someone else.
Not me.
But it couldn’t be her.
Not tiny innocent Dollie who cries for me whenever I’m not close enough for her to touch…except yesterday. I should have known something was wrong when she kept a foot between us at all times.
I’ve become her safe person.
And she’s become my reason for living. My purpose.
