Page 337 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
An empty feeling opens in my chest, now that my heartbeat is regular—a longing to get into that room.
Annabelle slides down into the chair next to Valaria, and that one creaks too. I step back toward them.
Annabelle’s red painted lips gently curl into a soft smile. They aren’t the red lips I want to see right now.
“Is he okay?”
“He’s awake. But I haven’t spoken to him yet, and I need to. I need to apologize because I think it’s my fault.”
“How could it be your fault?” she asks.
“I just know it is.” I sink into my own squeaky chair. The hard green plastic is harsh on the pain I feel between my legs. “We were doing things, and I said to stop.”
Annabelle glances at Valaria, those shocking white teeth on display as she smiles wider, knowing how all this would sound to the average person who knows that Ambrose and I are siblings, but not of our special bond.
Valaria sits with an indifferent expression on her made-up face.
With her eyes back on my fidgeting fingers, Annabelle says, “That wouldn’t make him try to kill himself, Dollie. So what, you said stop. He’s waited years.”
“He went quiet.”
“Isn’t he always quiet?” There’s no judgment in Valaria’s eyes, not a hint of jealousy, either. Sympathy shines in brown globes when she continues. “I thought he wasn’t able to speak?”
“He’s had a psychological block since we were children. But something lifted it recently. He’d been talking to me these past few days. Since we… since things started happening, and then last night, things happened again, and we were in his room, but Shane came to the door, and I panicked.”
“And that’s why you stopped things?” Annabelle tries to piece things together.
“Yeah…”
“And did Shane do this because of that?” Again, Annabelle’s finger swirls around my face, my eyes following her bright orange nail.
“No. This happened before that. I told Ambrose I didn’t want the lights on because of a headache.”
Annabelle sighs, and her shoulders sag. “I wonder why you had a headache, Dollie. What the fuck? You’re swollen to shit.”
“This isn’t about me.”
“Fine. Another time will be about you. What happened next?”
“Well, this morning, Shane was playing this song that Ambrose hates. On repeat. Constantly. But Ambrose wouldn’t hear that from upstairs, right? That wouldn’t be the reason?”
“I doubt it, unless it was blasting.” Annabelle shrugs.
“Exactly, and before that, I was upstairs with Shane. And things were happening with him, but I didn’t want them to. I just wanted it to be over, so he’d leave.”
“Dollie, hold up.” Long nails point to the badly painted ceiling as Annabelle raises a hand. “What are you saying exactly?”
“That she was sexually assaulted.”
Annabelle and Valaria share a look that makes me feel cold on the inside.
“No. I let him do it… and I moaned.” My face scrunches as my eyes close. “Shane told me that I should show him I’m his, and Ifelt this pressure that I couldn’t say no. So, when he told me to moan for him, I did.”
“But you didn’t want to do it?” Annabelle grits her fancy teeth.
“It probably sounded like I did. Oh, God.” My hands swallow my face. “I did this. I told him I had chosen him, then I told him no, and I did that with Shane. What if he heard?”
“Then you explain that you felt like you didn’t have a choice.”
