Page 21 of Pretty Stolen Dolls

Truth is, she may never get her daughter back.

A shuffling and scraping sound rouses me from slumber.

He’s back.

A grunt and then a thump has my curiosity piqued.

Slipping from the sheet he allows me to have, I creep across my cell and peek through the bars, my breath hitching when I see him there.

He’s not alone.

There’s a woman lying on his table, naked and unconscious. Sensing his movements, I quickly drop my knees to duck when he turns and walks past my cell toward the doorway leading to my freedom at the far left wall of our prison.

My heart thuds manically in my chest and there’s an excited flurry in my stomach I haven’t felt in a long time—one I thought I’d never feel again.

“Hey,” I hiss. “Hey, you,” I try again a little louder, keeping my eyes between her and the doorway.

Movements sound from Macy’s cell and she whispers, “Who is that?”

“Hey, lady.” I try rapping my hands on the wood panel of my cell door.

She stirs, her hand reaching up to rub at her head as she shifts to a sitting position. She’s not a lady at all. She’s a girl. Older than me, but still a girl—maybe nineteen, twenty.

“What happened?” she questions, her voice a thick slur, groggy sounding. Her dark hair curtains around her face as she dips her head to look down at the floor and then back up. Our eyes clash—hers confused and mine worried.

Her eyes widen and she jumps down to her feet, swaying a little. “What the fuck is happening? Who are you?” she demands, panic in her tone and volume. “Why am I naked?” This time, her voice wobbles with terror.

She isn’t here willingly.

She’s a new doll.

“Shhh,” I hush, pointing to the doorway. Her head swivels to where I gesture and she shakes it no before wobbling over to the bars separating us.

“Where are we? Why are you in there? Who is he?” she demands, her words rising in pitch with each question.

Footsteps sound from nearby and then his shadow creeps up the wall of the open doorway.

“Don’t look, Macy. Get into your bed,” I whisper-yell. The air is thick and a stirring in my stomach tells me she shouldn’t see what’s about to happen.

Neither should I…

Each step he takes toward us peels with it a piece of my soul.

The girl flattens her back against my cell door. “Stay away from me,” she screams at him, holding her hands out in front of her.

“Run,” I urge. But we both know there’s nowhere to run.

Cowering, her body scrapes across the door as his impending form strides toward her. With courage that bursts from somewhere deep within her, she launches at him, scratching at his face. He hisses and backhands her across her cheek, contacting with a stomach-lurching crunch. I gape in horror as her head jerks to the side like it’s attached to a spring and connects with my door, making it vibrate against my body.

She screams and he growls in response.

Glowering at her, he fingers the scratch she made on his face. Blood smears across his cheek and it makes him all the more menacing.

My hands turn white from gripping the bars so tight and start to lose feeling. “Stop, please,” I beg for her, but I’ve seen that look before in his eyes. I’ve been the cause of it and withstood the punishment…barely.

She gains her stability and lifts her head to look directly at me. Blood pours from her nose and she spits a tooth from her mouth, gurgling on the torrent of it. It’s like a crimson waterfall from her lips. She turns to face her new master and the indifference he shows falters as he begins grinding his teeth.

“Look what you’ve done!” he bellows, grasping her jaw between his thumb and forefinger.

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