Page 232 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
I take a breath, it’s deep and just as jittery as my movements. “He did his time.”
“And now, he’s out, but they’re still gone forever.”
“Because of Colin Bannadosi.”
“Because your brother took a knife from this kitchen and dragged it across their throats and stomachs.” Shane steps up to me, his body wedging mine to the counter.
Stretching around me, he pulls two knives from the stand that holds them. He chips the pink color I’d recently painted it with his careless movements.
“Which of these knives would you rather be stabbed with?”
My terrified reflection stares at me in the shiny blades. My bulging eyes catch my attention before my gaping mouth.
“Can’t choose, can you?” Shane tosses both knives into the kitchen sink, clattering against the dishes already in there, waiting to be washed. “Well, if you keep hanging around with him, you won’t have to choose anything, and yet, you don’t want to be his enemy.”
Shane leaves me, moving to the refrigerator to get a snack, like he didn’t just terrify me in the middle of the day.
He bites into a chocolate bar on the other side of the room.
“Has your opinion changed?” he asks, his mouth full and crumbs dropping to the floor.
Taking a dustpan and broom from a hook near the back door, I sweep them away, not wanting Bubbles to eat anything that might harm her.
“He had a psychotic break. I’ve told you before, I don’t blame him for their deaths,” I tell him, still down on the floor sweeping dust from around his trainers because I know it’ll bother Ambrose if he sees it.
“How do you know he had a psychotic break? You didn’t wanna go to his trial.”
“It was in every single newspaper, Shane. I didn’t need to go to his trial.”
“But you couldn’t anyway, right?”
No, I shake my head.
“Why?”
Standing, I take the dirt to the trash can and rehang the pan and broom. Looking out at Bubbles and away from Shane, I answer, “I didn’t wanna see the last of my family get taken from me.”
“And now you get to live happily ever after together.”
“I just think it’s better if we aren’t at each other’s throats.”
“Forgive me, Lancie.” Shane steps up to me, his fingers around my biceps. It’s hard to stop my skin from crawling, and that’s probably down to his nickname for me. “This all just seems odd to me. I mean, while in prison, he wanted to slit your throat just for keeping in contact.”
Turning to face Shane, I keep my eyes low, but I straighten my spine to talk. “That was early into his sentence. Annabelle thinks?—”
“Don’t risk your life based on what Annabelle thinks. She doesn’t really know him. No one ever knows people like him.”
I know him.
“I just don’t want you getting hurt. I don’t want him pretending to be a friend—a brother—and that costing you your life.”
Shane’s words sink into my head, and I find myself nodding.
“I have therapy soon. So, I’d best get moving. Try to keep some space between you two, please? For me?”
He takes a step away from me, giving me the space to form some courage and answer him.
“I don’t think he’ll hurt me. I don’t know what they were, but he must have had his reasons for doing the things he has.”
