Page 292 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
Red lips tilt down as two heads angle my way.
Clowns. I see clowns.
Then everything goes black.
CHAPTER 68
Dollie—present day
“Talk to me, Dollie.”
What is there to say? That I have hardly spoken for two days? That Ambrose was afraid to leave me alone today because he practically had to force-feed me yesterday? That I couldn’t even pull myself from the sofa to feed the dog I love so much? And why?
Because I killed my parents, and the reality of that is just now sinking in. Even if they did a bad thing—which they did—it doesn’t change that I did something awful, too.
And the person I love most has suffered through years of abuse and a prison sentence where he was cooped up with our childhood nightmare in the flesh because of it.
Because of me.
“What happened the other night?” Annabelle asks, stuffing black frosting into her mouth from a piping bag I’m no longer using. “Your brother said you’ve been having a hard time.”
She sits at the kitchen table, waiting for an answer.
“Did he tell you why?” These are the first words I’ve spoken to her since her arrival an hour ago. Until now, it’s been all false smiles and head nods.
There’s a delay before she answers, like she’s coming up with something believable in her head. “I know no gory details.”
God, did she have to use such a term?
“I just saw him in town this morning. We passed by each other in our cars, and he said you were having a rough day.”
“You stopped in the middle of the road to have a conversation about me?”
“Okay, fine. That was a lie. He texted me and told me he was worried.” Annabelle scoops cake mix from my giant mixing bowl with her fingers.
“What makes you think anything happened?” I ask, twirling a mixing spoon in my hand.
“Well, other than him telling me you won’t eat, sleep, or leave the sofa?”
“I’m off the sofa.”
“Yeah, well, one of three is not ideal. And if it wasn’t Ambrose’s birthday in the next few days, I know you’d still be in there, neglecting the dog.”
Bubbles makes a noise at Annabelle’s side, and it almost sounds like agreement.
“I haven’t neglected Bubbles. Ambrose fed her before he left. She still has food in her bowl, and the door is open.” I point over my shoulder. “She can go out to pee.”
“But you’re not right.” I look across to her, both of us on different sides of the table. “Is it Shane?”
“No, I haven’t seen him.”
“Is that what’s upsetting you?”
“No. He’s texted non-stop.”
“But he’s not here? He didn’t come to see you while you were ill?”
“He decided to stay with one of his work friends. He didn’t want to catch it.”
