Page 354 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
It’s so close, my pajama shirt tears as I breathe out.
“Dollancie, give me the knife.”
I shake my head, sweaty palms wrapped tightly around the pink-painted handle.
“Come on, give me the knife, and we’ll call the hospital together.” Nyx’s fingers weave between mine, breaking my connection to the blade that falls through my grip and to the floor.
His soiled work boot kicks it away as I scurry to retrieve it.
“No, don’t.” He pulls me into his chest and whispers, “Just take a minute to tell me what happened.”
His heart thumps next to my ear. Contracted workers stare through the window at my meltdown. The fear on some faces doesn’t faze me. Neither does the judgment on the others.
“Come on, tell me what happened?” Nyx’s hand moves on my back, encouraging me to talk, to relax.
“The hospital called. They said he’s gone.” And I can’t breathe because of it. I sob, and I muffle the airless cries by turning into Nyx.
“But Annabelle is still there. She’d have called.” He rubs my back again until a breath slips out.
Taking a hand from my body, Nyx picks up my phone from the table and unlocks it. My call history shows the word UNKNOWN at the top, glaring back at us both from the screen.
Failing to return a call to that number, he pulls out a chair for me and places me in it.
The knife calls to me again, in these most painful minutes of my life, where every struggle for breath comes out with unstoppable sobbing.
A quick online search gives him the number to our local hospital.
The call connects, and the ringing becomes the reason for the sweat on my brow.
“Please, don’t make me hear them say it again,” I beg, eyes still on the knife.
“Dollancie, all those people out there, it could be a hoax. Annabelle would know if something had happened. I literally just spoke with her.” He pulls out the chair next to me and falls into it.
“No one has my number, Nyx.”
“Hi, yes,” Nyx says into the phone as someone picks up on the other side. “I need to speak with someone in the emergency department, thank you.”
A few minutes pass. Long, slow, and painful minutes where I try to catch my breath, try to hold on to the hope that this isn’t real. That Ambrose is here.
“Hello. My name is Nyx, and my friend was brought in this morning. Ambrose La’Darragh. I’m here with his sister, who believes she just got a call from you. I’m gonna put you on speaker.” Nyx clicks the button. “Can you please confirm this? And if he’s okay? She’s very distressed.”
A young female voice replies, “His doctor actually just passed by. Mr. La’Darragh is currently under evaluation, but I don’t see any record of a call in our system. One moment, please.”
“Thank you.”
More silent minutes pass. My hand slides into Nyx’s, holding tight. Too tight.
“I was mean to Bubbles,” I break the silence.
“She’ll forgive you.”
“Hi, hello, Nyx?” the hospital staff member’s young voice returns. “The hospital hasn’t made any calls, and Mr. La’Darragh is okay, but he is still with the psychologist. We can pass along a message for when they’re done.”
“Just that Dollancie’s waiting for him. Thank you.” Nyx hangs up the phone and places it on the table.
“You did see that someone called, right? I don’t know what’s even real anymore.”
“I did, and I’m gonna maybe step out of line here, but if you were my sister, I’d want someone to tell you. You need to cut ties with Shane. If no one else has your phone number, it could only be him. I saw you earlier, the fear in your eyes. I hated that you told me to go. I saw the look in his. He is a very dangerous man.”
