Page 222 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
I can’t risk it.
The painful idea of losing Dollie permanently comes back, taunting me because I never admitted my love three times. My head drops back, and the purple glow is horrible on my eyes. I’ll blame that for the glassy look I’m sure they have if Annabelle brings it up.
She doesn’t.
“I don’t know what you expect me to say? God, how did she not recognize you! She saw you here. What the fuck was that? Some kind of Clark Kent move? She literally saw you, with another woman, I’ll add. So, if you love her so much, who was that?”
Ambrose:
That was my boss. It wasn’t what she thought. And I was wearing a mask. I know it was a crazy thing to do, but I just missed her.
“You could have shut it down when the sexting happened, or you could have pushed her away when she tried to kiss you.”
Ambrose:
I didn’t want to. You’re not listening to me. I didn’t expect things to go that far, but when they did, I couldn’t stop myself. I let her kiss me because I wanted her to kiss me. I’ve wanted her in ways I shouldn’t for longer than I can remember. I love her more than anything, and it makes me physically sick.
She’s the only reason I’m still alive. I don’t love her like a sister. She’s my reason for being. There is no life without her for me.
“She’s your sister.”
Ambrose:
I know. I know it’s wrong.
It was easier when I felt nothing for her. There was even a time when we were small and new to being a family, when Mom told me that I’d love her someday. Well, I guess Mom cursed me because I love her, my little sister so much more than I was ever meant to.
As I type the words, I realize the truth behind them. There’s nothing much else to say, and Annabelle and her silence feel the same way.
It’s close to twelve thirty. Annabelle left about three hours ago, which was an hour after she arrived. She still wasn’t sure how to feel about what I’d said, and I’d been on pins and needles ever since.
Has she told Dollie?
Will she?
Is Dollie okay?
Does she hate me?
Those thoughts exhaust me, and the dark patches below my eyes make me crave my bed. I stand from a lonely corner of the bar where I’ve been sitting for the last twenty minutes, carving up my arm with a glass I’d accidentally smashed. The urge was too strong to fight. Between the stress of last night, this morning, and tonight, it just got to be too much for me.
Blood drips onto the jeans I wear for work, adding to the look that works so well here.
I toss the broken glass into a trash can under the bar and leave it for someone else to take care of tomorrow.
With three new scars, I clock out and shut off all the lights. The purple fades to black as I close the door and lock up.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I worry it’s an accusation from Dollie. The distraction I got from cutting is already fading away.
I take a breath, then swallow, my dry throat bobbing. It makes me feel the need to drink, and I look back, contemplating just the one shot of poison before I make my way home.
Before doing that, I glance down and see Annabelle’s name on my screen. Relief comes over me instantly. I click her little icon, leading me to her first message, joining my list.
Annabelle:
Do you really love her? Like, really love her?
Too damn much.
