Page 54 of Dollhouse

“What the fuck is this?” Jesse’s voice, low and shaky, comes from behind me and my heart sinks impossibly further. I peer behind me to see him, eyes still blown from the mania of the lasttwenty-four hours. I’d hoped the life we took last night would help him, but this video changes everything.

“Bo’s not in this video.”

I almost say that his screams are audible in the background, but to what purpose? So we can both be safe in the knowledge that they’re being abused right this fucking second?

A week? The thought of how much trauma Bundy could pack into them in that amount of time makes the decision easy.

Fuck this. I’ll figure it out on my own.

“I’m sure he’s alive.” Aiden stands, holding his hands out. “We’re putting a plan together now.”

But it’s me Jesse’s staring at, asking with his eyes whatweare going to do.

It’s Jesse’s undone, twisted pain that makes my decision for me. Bo and Emma need us, and I’m fucking coming whether my family likes it or not.

Standing, I slide my gun off the table and turn to him, hand on his shoulder. “Dad’s handling this, come.”

Steering him back toward his room, we pass the one I shared with Emma. I can’t even look inside right now.

“Can you help me find my meds?” Jesse asks, throwing open his nightstand drawer and shuffling through it. “I should probably take them or something.”

It’s not a bad idea, that’s for sure. But he’s never been great at staying on them for very long. Half empty bottles tend to pile up in medicine cabinets over time. Stepping into his bathroom, I pop open the door to his, and front and center are his prescriptions.

“Jesse, they’re right here. I don’t have time for this s—” A rag over my mouth muffles the rest of my words, panic jolting through me as my nose burns from the damp cloth. My hands find the arm reaching around me and yank, attempting to throwthem to the ground, but the liquid works quickly, and dizziness is already taking over.

“What the fuck,” I slur, trying to keep myself from crashing into the counter. It’s the mirror in front of me that gives him away. Jesse’s eyes on me as he chews his lip, crushing the rag to my face.

“Chill, dude, in real life chloroform takes like five minutes to actually knock you out.”

My head spins, and I try to slide to the floor in whatever way will keep me from landing face first, but his hands go under my arms and drag me toward the bed.

“I’m sorry, Noah, but sometimes you’re a shit leader. I could see from across the room that you weren’t listening to Ryan.”

I struggle to take in his words, my brain slowing to a crawl as a cold metal circles my hands. I feel like I should fight, but there’s no way. I can barely talk. “Bitch,” I slur.

His face leans down over mine, as serious as I’ve ever seen him. “You can hate me tomorrow, but you can’t fuck this up. I need him back. I need him here. We can’t bring them home if we aren’t smarter than Bundy. If you go there on your own, you’re going to get yourself killed too.”

My eyes drift, heavy. There’s a thought in my head that it keeps trying to grip onto, terrified to let it drift away and get lost. Emma. Emma’s hurt. I need to make it better.

I garble something and his eyes soften. “I know. And this is fucked up, but Bo’s there with her. He’s been through this shit before and he knows how to help her, okay? When we get them back we can spend the rest of our lives helping them deal with this, but if you get them killed we don’t get any more fucking time.”

No more time. It’s the only thing that registers. I need more.

We deserve more time, the world owes her that.

The broken mess in my chest shifts, slicing me up a little bit more. I wish to god I could cry. I can feel the compulsion, but my own fucked up head won’t allow it. I am so fucking broken without her.

“We do what Ryan says. I’ll tell him he has until tomorrow night. Then we go in with all our men and we get them all out. Every one. And then, we’ll hand Emma and Bo the gun and let them massacre the guards if it makes them feel even a little better.”

“One day,” I mutter, and he nods fervently. My eyes close, succumbing to the darkness. “One day,” I say again, though it comes out more like a fractured whisper.

It's an echo in my head as I fall into blackness.

One day.

TWENTY-SEVEN

Once they realizethat Bo and I will endure almost anything to try and keep the other one safe, it becomes a new game. Bundy keeps his word that he will not personally touch either one of us, but it’s clear that he gets his pleasure from watching, from seeing in real time as someone has the spark in their eyes drowned to nothing.