Page 20 of Dollhouse

“Of course not. Jesse, you’re not thinking about everyone. Our safety isn’t more important than anyone else’s. Be reasonable,” he adds when Jesse clearly isn’t listening.

Jesse stills, his face going scarily flat. He bends, resting his forearms on the side of Bo’s chair and tilting his head. “I know you’re not questioning what I’ll do for your safety, are you baby? Cause I can make it a real life lockdown in this bitch.”

Bo smacks his arm away. “Jesus Christ, go finish your nap. You sound fucking insane right now.”

“Insane for you, Bojangles.”

Bo rolls his eyes, groaning in frustration. I can see right through it though. He loves the way Jesse’s fixated.

“...Anyway,” I say, peeking back up at Noah. “I think this is silly, if anyone cares. Though my opinion doesn’t seem to matter much here.”

Noah leans down, arms crossed on the back of the couch, his face above mine. “That’s right. I’m putting your well-being first because I know you won’t. My men can handle themselves. I can handle myself. You are shit with a knife and are scared of guns.”

“That was one time. I didn’t mean to drop it, it just jumped out of my hand.”

“It’s just recoil, you have to learn to control it. Now be a doll and let Jesse put some blood on you, okay?” He kisses the top of my head and I glower at Jesse, who smirks at me from behind Bo’s armchair.

“Hell yeah,” he says, heading for the stairs. “I’m grabbing my stuff, you two go out back. It’s about to get messy.”

Emily shakes her head, looking over at us with concern. I shrug weakly, knowing there’s nothing I can do to convince them that this feels like the wrong move. A desperate move. I might be a terrible shot, but I know what happens when dangerous men don’t get the things they want..

An hour later, I’m lying in the grass again. Bo’s at my side with a fake bullet wound in his forehead that matches mine. I peek at it again and shiver. It looks shockingly authentic.

Swallowing, I lick my dry lips. This feels a lot less like a silly game now that we’re here.

“Um, what do you want us to do now?” I ask Jesse, who's wiping his hands on a rag covered in fake blood. Noah sits in a chair next to him, staring at me with a somber expression. I try to smile but my hands won’t stop quivering, and he doesn’t return it anyway.

“Can we get this over with, she’s shaking really bad,” Bo says, grabbing my hand and squeezing. I focus on his grip, closing my eyes and trying to make my breathing even.

“Guys, I just feel like we’re putting out some bad energy with this. Maybe we shouldn’t…” My throat tightens, knowing nobody will listen to me anyway.

“We’re already doing it,” Jesse says, walking over to arrange us. His large hands crook my knee and moves one arm over my head. As he works on me, his eyes stray to my pale face. His voice softens, along with his stormy seafoam eyes. He brushesmy cheek with the back of his hand. “We’re almost done, okay? I think this will help, Emma, or I wouldn’t be suggesting it. Try to calm down.”

I nod, exhaling. Three months ago I was sitting on my porch everyday, folding laundry with my cat as my only company. Now I’ve got a psychopathic human trafficker obsessed with collecting me and an equally unhinged kidnapper faking my proof of death pictures.

The tremble in my hands will not stop.

“Hurry up, Jesse,” Noah says quietly and I decide to focus on his face.

“Okay, okay,” he says, perfecting Bo and then stepping back. “Very deceased, very blank stare. And…. go.” He pulls out his phone and I stare up at the sky, trying my best to disassociate.

I can hear him moving around us, and the sound of the camera. I try to ignore the nausea that’s rolling through me, but I know I’m starting to break out in a sweat. I don’t want to mess this up, but it’s impossible to ignore, and at the last moment I roll to the side, trying to grab my hair as I heave.

Noah’s out of his chair and by my side a moment later, gathering my hair back in a ponytail of his fist. “We’re done, Jesse. Bo, can you grab a towel please?”

A cold chill runs through me, eyes streaming. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why this is messing with my head so much.”

“I do,” he says, rubbing my back. “I can barely look at you. It’s making me want to dismember someone over a murder that didn’t happen.”

I pretend that’s not something he’s done before, as it will make the nausea worse, and try to sit up, wiping my mouth on the jacket I’d thrown to the side. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

Bo returns, handing the towel to Noah, who starts cleaning the makeup from my face. Molly curls around Jesse’s feet like nothing is happening, as he and Bo speak in hushed tones.

Noah’s hand finds mine and I follow him in a daze, stomach still weak as we brush my teeth and head into my room. I could try to resist him tucking me into bed like a child, but it’s all I want right now. He returns with crackers and a glass of water, setting them on my nightstand and climbing in behind me.

His arm curls around my chest and pulls me closer to his. My stomach is starting to settle, but the dread somehow remains. I try to focus on the hardness of him behind me. He’s solid. He’s here. I’m okay.

“You don’t really think there will be a time when I’m facing him alone do you?” I ask. “This training is just a precaution, right?”