Page 277 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
“And when do you think you hurt them?” I whisper gently, because I can’t lie to her, but I’m reluctant to unearth any traumatic memories that will do nothing but shatter her mind.
Her hands peel away, but her eyes stay downcast, avoiding me.
“That night. I think I killed Mom and Dad, and I think you took the blame?—”
“Mom and Dad died because of their own neglect. What happened was awful, but we aren’t to blame.” I whisper the words she desperately needs to hear.
“We aren’t. I am. Aren’t I?”
“I’ve already answered that.” I kiss her hair.
Dollie’s words come out so fast they’re hard to understand. “You bought her favorite flow—flowers for their anniversary. You remembered what they were. I couldn’t, not until I sa—saw them.”
Dad would get them for her all the time.I look down as I sign the words, hoping dark lashes will hide the glossiness in my eyes, only for her words to drag my gaze back to her.
“You loved them.”
I did. But you loved them, too. Not remembering a favorite flower means shit, Dollie.I continue signing since my throat aches.
“I spent my whole life wanting your affection. Needing you. Depending on you. But I can never have you.”
I think we’re past the we can’t do this stage.I still have dry cum on my T-shirt, for fuck’s sake.So far beyond that,I mouth.
“They wouldn’t like us together, and you deserve someone so much better than me.”
“There isn’t someone better for me.” I struggle with the words as my fingers weave through bushy hair. I slump to the floor, and pull her up onto my lap and against my chest. “I don’t relax without you around. I need you, too. It’s just how we are. They didn’t understand it, ” I whisper in her ear.
I hold her tighter, shielding myself from that look still in her eyes.
Dollie’s fight to get away from me returns but dwindles, as her painted fingers claw at me, desperate to get somehow closer. I rub over her back in the spot she hit against the doorframe.
She sinks into my hold, fingers slowing but still moving on my sleeve. “I need you, too. I always need you.”
Her head tips back, eyes meeting mine for a second. Before they drift away.
“Do you hate me?” she asks, with so much panic in her voice that it terrifies me.
What? No.I guide her far enough away from me for her to watch my lips,it was a drea?—
“I wasn’t talking to you. I know you love me. I felt it last night. And that’s how I know you took the blame for me.” Her hand graces my face with the softest touch. “I was talking to them.”
Turning around to face what she’s pointing to over my shoulder, I see nothing but shadows from the bathroom accessories in this room.
Dollie’s lips tremble, her teeth chattering. She isn’t cold beneath her hoodie. Heat from her body seeps through onto my hand.
Her grip on me tightens, her whole body rattling in my arms.
“You weren’t you, not to me. I don’t know what happened.” She coughs. “I’m so sorry.” There’s a pause as she stares into the distance. “I am sorry.”
Her fingers move between us, rubbing her chest while I focus on her back to rid the rattling in her chest.
The crying makes her breathing sound worse.
She chokes on a sob, her hand quickly moving to her mouth, acting as a shield for me from her germs.
“I am so sorry.”
Still, I see nothing in this room with us… just like I didn’t see that crocodile all those years ago in the basement that kept us cold and isolated. Like those little girl ghosts before him and the monster that lurked in Dollie’s room. Like the clown that crept in late at night as we slept in her dome as teenagers. Mom said it was bad dreams. Dad went as far as night terrors.
