Page 71 of Pretty Stolen Dolls

I push door after door open until I stop at her bedroom.

After I shove through the door, my eyes automatically close in an effort to remove the image from my sight forever. Instead, I think it burns into my soul for eternity. I pop my eyes back open and survey what that monster did to her.

Dressed like one of Benny’s dolls, Mom sits upright on the bed, her arms splayed wide, limp wrists sliced open, and the veins attached like strings on the bed post.

“Motherfucker!” Dillon hisses from behind me.

“He made his very own marionette doll,” I breathe.

“Come on,” he growls, “I’m getting you out of here.”

Nothing feels real, like I’m touching the ground but there’s no gravity keeping me bound to it. I’m floating, numb, and in a state of disbelief.

“Detective Scott!” a deep voice barks somewhere in the house for my partner, but it’s disjointed and distant.

Dillon drags me back through the house. Maureen is hollering my name and then that puppy rushes into the house, wagging its tail.

“Someone get that dog!” Dillon roars. “Everyone else stay out and call forensics. This is a crime scene.” He attempts to hold me together in his strong arms and the moment he lets go, I know I’ll come apart completely.

My eyes zero in on the stupid puppy.Stop…stop…“Stop it…STOP IT!” I scream as it laps at the blood at my dad’s feet.

Dillon scoops up the dog and I run from the house, pushing past the gathering crowd of agents and neighbors. I empty the contents of my stomach with violent heaves onto the green lawn Daddy was so proud of.

“He’s escalating rapidly, evolving,” Detective Jefferson states, scratching his beard. “He doesn’t have any victims over the age of twenty-three and the last vic was raped. That’s new.”

“What?” I croak, standing straight and wiping the sick from my lips with the back of my hand.

Jefferson looks at me with drawn in brows and a down-turned lip. “I’m sorry for your loss, Phillips.”

“No,” I hiss, “go back to what you just said. Rape is new for him?”

“There were no signs of sexual assault on the other victims.” He places his hands on his hips and tilts his head.

“Iwas a victim, and herapedme…over and fucking over again.”

“Jade,” Dillon says my name again and I’m sick of hearing it. His arm reaches for me, but I shrug away from him.

“Rape isn’t something new for him,” I snap. “Murder and butchery isn’t something new for him. These victims are older because it’s a message for me. This is all for me.”

“I just meant he didn’t rape the other women…”

“Well he rapedme!” I screech, causing a chorus of gasps.

I wave at them all. “Don’t act like you don’t already know my fucking history. Don’t act like you don’t all talk about it behind my back.”

A rage-filled scream escapes me before I’m picked up and slung over Dillon’s shoulder. I don’t fight him, I just sob into his back.

My ass is placed in the passenger seat of his Crown Vic and the door is slammed shut, trapping me inside with my emotions in chaos. I’m suffocating under the weight of my reality. My heart is bleeding out and I can’t patch the wound.

I gasp for air as my chest restricts, tightening. I can’t breathe.

“It’s okay,” he coos. “It’s okay.” The door slams as Dillon gets in on the driver’s side. His arms grip mine and I’m dragged into his lap. Straddling him, I cling to him. “Breathe. Feel my heart beat against yours.” He begins tapping,du-dum…du-dum…du-dum…

Air washes into me and I let him bring me back to him.

“I need you inside me,” I tell him.

“You’re in shock, baby.”

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