Page 170 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
He gets no reaction from me. He repulses me.
“Enough. He’s still at risk. He could die.”
I want to die.
I hope it happens in the next fucking minute, and I hope starvation has already gotten to Dollie so that she won’t be left here without me.
“He won’t, though, will he? It’s funny how you managed to save this kid. You couldn’t save my mother. Was that because you didn’t like her? Do you have a soft spot for this boy, too?” Colin sneers. “Remember, you can’t touch another man, or I’ll chop your fucking hands off. You’ll have to take the girl. Remember those nice pictures I got of her.”
“Don’t talk about those. I never wanted to see them, and I wouldn’t touch either of them. He isn’t a man. He is a boy, and he is recovering. He needs to do that in fucking peace.”
“He’s had seven fucking days to heal.”
“And he needs a few more.”
“Well, he isn’t doing it in my fucking bed if I’m getting nothing in return. I guess you want to see your sister anyway. Have her dirty little hands all over your throat, risking an infection.” He laughs cruelly as I settle back into my body. “Get up. If you can walk down there, you can return to her.”
My hands quake as I tuck myself into a pair of boxers that are too big for me—his.
Mrs. Bannadosi moves around to the other side of the bed, unhooking me from machines that have likely kept me alive and fed over the last week.
I take the first step as she steps away, and my weak leg almost gives way.
But I have to do this.
Blurred vision doesn’t stop me as I take the stairs.
A mirror in the living room catches my attention, and tears fill my eyes. My legs lock on the ground, allowing me to take myself in.
I’m fucking hideous, with scars all over my face and body.
“Do you like the new you? My little masterpiece.” Colin laughs behind me, and I turn away from my reflection, not allowing him to see me cry again.
I continue to the kitchen, ignoring the smell of homemade food to welcome the new year.
The brass knob of the basement door feels like a reprieve.
Dollie’s head hangs forward. Her tiny body curled in on itself in her sitting position. I wanna call her as I hurry down the last step, trembling in the water as I try to keep my head high without pulling my stitches.
Relief stands between Colin and me as he lingers at the top of the stairs, not following me down.
Gently sliding my knuckles over Dollie’s face, her bloodshot eyes open. “Ambrose…”
Taking her in my arms, I move with her back to the dresser. Whispers about the crocodile are in my ear, and her legs are tight around me until we make it to the sturdy wood. The water will reach the top of it any day now, and I worry about that as I place her on it.
“Are you okay?” Dollie whispers, but I can’t answer.
The door slams as I climb on top of the dresser, alerting me that we’re alone down here.
I listen as flappy shoes pound above, and his shrill voice screams something about draining the water down here.
“I missed you. I thought you died again.” Dollie stares up at me from my lap, her lips trembling like my body and almost blue.
Blue eyes squint in the dark, trying to get a good look at me.
I missed you, too,I mouth silently.
Gentle fingers move to my throat, and I stiffen, waiting for the voice in my head to come and threaten me with thoughts of an infection.
