Page 93 of Dollhouse

I take the water and bring it to my dry mouth and take slow sips. It has to last me the entire day, so I don’t want to waste it. No matter how incredible the wetness feels on my tongue, I must make it last.

Along with the water, he gives me a piece of stale bread and medical supplies to keep my gunshot wound clean. I still can’t fucking believe that King actually shot me.

He truly fooled me. All of them did.

I have alcohol wipes, ointment, gauze, and medical tape. It’s keeping my wound from getting infected, at least, I hope. It’s stopped bleeding, but I need proper care.

I’ll wait until he leaves to remove my dress and rebandage it. I don’t need him to see me naked.

He disappears into the hallway long enough to empty my piss bucket, and when he brings it back into my cell, I can’t stop myself from trying to strike conversation again in hopes of getting answers.

“How long?” I croak, my voice raspy and my throat dry. “How long will I be here?” He looks at me, and I don’t like the way his blue eyes rake over my body.

“Until he decides that you’re ready to behave.” He turns and walks toward the door. “Oh, and until he kills those guys you were spreading your legs for like a whore.” He spits on the ground.

I’ve asked this same question every time I see him, and this is the first time he’s answered me. I’m taking that as a sign to continue my questioning. “Why would he kill them? They’re the ones that allowed me to end up here.”

“No, Lee. You let yourself end up here by being a whore. Keep your legs closed, that’s all you had to do.” His words are laced with pure venom. “He wanted you pure and only for him. And now you’re dirty, so that’s how you’ll be treated until you learn your lesson. You’ll stay here until he’s ready for you to come upstairs and join us.” He stalks toward me, squatting down in front of me, taking a fistful of my hair in his hands. “We’ll start by changing your hair. Blonde is much better on you.” He drops my hair as if it burned him and glares at me with disgust before standing to his feet. “Don’t worry, those thugs you were fucking will be out of the picture soon enough, and then he’ll be ready to see you again.” With him so close to me for the first time, I am able to study his features. I search for any hint of recognition. He seemed to know me, but I don’t know him.

“Why didn’t either of you take me yourself? Why hirethemto do your job?” I couldn’t even say their names. I knew if I did, my emotions would show.

“They involved themselves, but details don’t matter. They made a deal, they kept you for as long as we asked and then they brought you to the club exactly as they were told to do. They turned you over without a fight. It all went as planned.” I have more questions, and I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. My head is swimming in confusion.

He’s lying.

My guys didn’t sell me out. This is a setup.At least I hope it is. I need to believe that it is.

They wouldn’t do that to me. Rowen wouldn’t do that to me. I don’t know who to believe anymore.

I see the ghosts of the past haunting him every time I look into his eyes.

There’s no way he’d turn his back on me, not when he’s carried the blame with him for years over what happened to us as children.

“You’re lying,” I hiss.

With a sigh, he pulls the pack of cigarettes from his jeans pocket and sticks one between his lips, lighting it with a match. “Think what you want, they’re the reason you’re here.” He unbuckles his belt and zipper. I watch with wide eyes as he frees his disgusting dick from his boxers, pointing the ugly worm straight at me.

“Stay the fuck away from me!” I crawl closer to the wall to get away from him.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I’d never touch a dirty little whore like you.” I’m covering my face with my hands and shaking uncontrollably when I feel the warm liquid touch my skin.

He’s pissing on me! This motherfucker is pissing on me!

I lower my head and cry, covering my face to avoid getting his pee in my eyes and mouth. “You’re going to fucking regret this! I’ll kill you!” I yell, causing him to laugh.

I don’t notice him stepping closer to me because I’m still covering my face. I don’t see him until he shoves the cherry of his cigarette against my right knee that’s pulled to my chest. I cry out at the pain, bile rising in the back of my throat at the burn. I can smell my burning flesh.

And since there’s nothing in my stomach, I only dry heave. My body is shaking, I can’t control it.

He stands and smiles down at me darkly.

The bastard smiles at me. “He’ll see you soon, little bird.”

Little bird.

He called me little bird.

Only one person in my life has ever called me that before.

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