Page 49 of Pretty Stolen Dolls

Pain burns and rips at every nerve ending there, but I’m powerless to end it and my screams are muted by the tightening of his hand around my throat.

“You got something to say now?” he mocks, finally jerking it out of me.

Warm liquid runs down my leg and he brings the bloody bottle to his mouth. I want to die. Just kill me already!

He unscrews the lid with his teeth and shoves the bottle against my lips, pouring the contents into my mouth.

Copper-tinged water cascades over my lips and tongue, but his hold prevents it from going down my gullet. I choke and gurgle and spit the water everywhere.

Ding-dong.

My eyes flare wide and his mimic mine.

Someone’s here? That was a doorbell?

My mouth opens wide as adrenaline pumps through me. Bringing my head toward his, he bares his teeth at me before he fires it back and my skull connects with the wall, stealing my consciousness.

Everything is black.

My eyes open and everything is black. There’s nothing but darkness all around and a heavy weight rests on top of me.

No! No! No!

“No…no!” I battle the suffocation, kicking and writhing, and then a flash of light burns my eyes as Dillon’s voice penetrates the fear.

“It’s okay,” he says in a soothing tone. “You’re safe.”

Pushing the heavy weight to the floor, I jump to my feet, panting and looking down at the enemy.

It’s a quilt. It’s just a freaking quilt.

“You fell asleep. I moved you to your bed and found something to cover you up with,” he says, his voice calm, holding his hands up in surrender.

Damn, I’m a mess. He must think I’m crazy.

My heart rate slows and I swipe the sweat from my forehead. “I’m sorry,” I choke out, a sob lodged in my throat.

All the insecurities, all the abuse, all the tough cop act I put on everyday floods from me like a virus sweating itself from the body.

All the pent up fear and agony seeps out and I gasp for air, for something to ground me. Dillon’s hot palm engulfs mine and I’m pulled into his body as his arms snake around me, pinning me to him. His scent envelops me and I suck to inhale it, to cover myself in him, inside and out—to erase Benny and the dream.

You dreamed of him.

Something passes between us in this moment. It’s not a partner comforting a partner. It’s not a friend soothing a friend. It’s another human sharing your pain, understanding the silent moments as well as the loud ones. It’s two souls touching the essence of each other. It’s a man holding a woman and showing her it’s okay to break because he will keep her together until she can do it for herself.

I come undone in this moment, and he lets me, taking all my anger, fear, and pain into himself.

“We’ll catch him and end this for you. I promise,” he repeats with more conviction than I’ve ever heard before, from anyone.

Lifting me on to the bed, he cradles me and we fall asleep cocooned together. For the first time in my life, I feel truly safe.

“I’M GLAD YOU CAMEagain.” This woman with her fish tank office decoration and pantsuit scrutinizes me with narrowed blue eyes. “Please, have a seat when you’re ready.”

I run my fingers over the back of the brown sofa and the soft leather feels cool on my fingertips. “How old are you?”

She frowns and it makes her look much older. “Is age important to you? How old are you?”

Ignoring her question, I make my way over to the strange cucumber water. It reminds me of something a girl and her dollies would have at a tea party like the ones we used to have with our mother. I pour the chilly liquid into a glass and take a small sip.

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