Page 47 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
The feeling of someone watching me grows, and my eyes flick back to the shadow, which hasn’t moved at all.
With another stroke over those three letters, I watch them fade into a new word. Rose.
This place will look good with roses.
Maybe if I advertise more cupcakes in town, I’ll be able to buy some.
We’ve only had one order since last week’s giveaway, and that was for a child who wanted a single yellow cupcake. That child reminded me so much of myself that I agreed with a smiley emoji when her mother texted.
But since, I’ve felt kind of deflated.
Maybe Shane was right. Maybe people will only be interested when they’re free.
There goes my flowers. I sigh with defeat.
Flowers won’t make this place pretty, something hisses from the corner of the room. From the shadows.
Turning around and acknowledging whatever I heard is not happening. I move the brush again, covering the rest of Ambrose’s name, and chant to myself…
“It’s not real.”
CHAPTER 13
Ambrose—age eight
Alone.
I stare up at the ceiling—the dark gray color morphs into dark memories.
Something bad happened in the little house.
The last thing I remember was being in Chuckles’ shack. The little furniture he had was old, like the kind Mom likes to paint. Mail sat on top of a table—all marked urgent and addressed to a man named Colin Bannadosi.
He doesn’t look like a Colin, this dirty clown.
The only other Colin I know is the local mailman—shorter, skinnier, friendlier. Clean.
This is a different Colin—someone who doesn’t deserve the innocence of a name like Chuckles—a monster.
One, who must have knocked me out to bring me here.
Isthis even the same building?
Does this old basement sit below the tiny shack?
Will I ever be found?
A cold chill seeps from the wall to my side. My coat is gone, and unable to protect me from it. I rest on an old dresser, the same wooden color that fills our home.
My tongue rolls around in my mouth, feeling over gaps that weren’t there before. Two of my teeth are missing—one from the back and one closer to the front. The one to the side of my Dracula tooth won’t ever come back.
It’s Dollie’s fault.
Pushing myself up, a sharp pain throbs in the side of my head. I don’t remember what caused it, but the awful pounding above my ear continues as I search for Dollie, who isn’t at my side, annoying me like she usually would be by feeling my T-shirt between her fingers.
Her little pink coat floats on the basement floor, bobbing up and down slightly.
It’s her fault we’re here, but I don’t want her to die.
