Page 59 of Dollhouse

Now that I know love.

Now that I’ve had Noah.

His face, his voice, his hands are so clear in my head at that moment that my heart throbs in what feels like an actual, physical heartbreak. We’d barely gotten any time together. I’d just barely broken the surface oflivingand I want it back desperately.

I’m carried over the threshold into the dark house and I start to scream as the door is pushed shut.

Slam. The dollhouse is locked again. I’m stuck inside.

The man carrying me up the stairs pauses nervously when my yells melt into broken laughter. Nothing’s funny but I’m swinging so wildly from pain to numb that I can’t keep up.

We pass the guest room, where the beds are still made as if I’d just finished cleaning them. Next comes the bedroom I used to share with Eric, and the hall light cuts a wedge across it, illuminating my dresser. The bed comes into view next, and right at the foot of it sits the same animal crate that had been mine at the last building.

The laughter dies on my lips as I realize I’ll be locked in a cage at the foot of Eric's bed. He hasn’t shown himself yet, but I’m sure he’ll make an appearance soon. What he’ll do with me then is anyone’s bet.

“Didn’t have time to bar the windows, so this will have to do for now,” the man says. I just barely manage to shoot him a look of disgust before he tosses me to the floor. A large hand grips my hair, leaving me no choice but to let him guide me into the cage. The door is slammed shut and locked behind me and he walks out of the room, closing that door as well.

This feels impossibly worse. Bo’s not here now, I’m alone for the first time and I underestimated how much strength his presence gave me. Everything aches and exhaustion drags me down until I’m curled in on myself, knees tucked to my chest. It seems like every time shock sets in, it leaves a bone deep deadness when it recedes. I’m so tired.

The familiar creaks of the old house lull me into nightmares of dark spaces, and blood trails that lead nowhere.

THIRTY

I feelhis eyes before I see him, tugging me from dreams that suffocate. Shot back into reality which is somehowworse.

My nerves are shot and I’m fucking done. Either I’m escaping today or I’ll convince someone to put me down, but I’d rather die than let another man invade my body. And if it’s Eric? I’ll chew his dick off too.

And there he is, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at me.

Seeing him is nauseating, made more so by the cage wall between us. As if I couldn’t be more humiliated than the last time he saw me. Strangely, there’s a softness in his eyes, just like the way he used to look at me.Before.

He’s totally still, non-threatening.

There’s a few moments where we stare each other down before he clears his throat. “Do you want to shower?”

It’s…not what I expected him to say. The offer is appealing as I’m still covered in the disgusting things left behind by the guards. If it’s a trap, then so be it.

I nod, and he leans forward to unlock the cage. The act is somehow more intimately degrading than being locked in by a stranger.

Crawling out, I rise to my feet, flinching at the deep ache in my muscles and watching as Eric heads into the bathroom to turn on the water for me. Cautiously, I scan the room for someone hiding in the shadows but it looks like we really are alone. He set me free and left my hands unbound.

As if he can hear the thought float into my head—I could kill him—he turns back to me, motioning for me to pass. His eyes stay on mine, not scanning the dried blood and crusty fluids coating my skin.

The water burns because he remembers that’s how I like my showers. My open wounds don’t care for it but it’s purifying otherwise. It doesn’t make sense but as the water sluices over my skin, it takes with it some of the hopelessness. I’m not covered in the physical reminders of what’s happened. Now, the stains are only mental and that canmaybebe contained.

I decide to ignore the way Eric has propped himself against the counter, silently watching as I clean myself off, wash my face and lather my hair. All my soap and shampoo still sits on the shelves, which seems so odd.

Eventually, the water turns cold and I’m forced to leave this strange little oasis I’ve found to wrap myself in a towel and step into the harsh lights of the bathroom.

Eric is still silent, so I take the time to grab my lotion from the cupboard and slowly coat my skin in it. I almost feel human after and I watch in the mirror as I comb the tangles from my hair.

“Where’s Bo?” I finally ask when it becomes clear he’s got nothing to say.

His mouth twitches toward a frown. “He’s here.”

My heart jumps, eyes blowing wide as I turn to face him. “He’s okay?”

“He’s alive.” He amends my question and I deflate. It’s wildly obvious from the way his eyes glue to the floor that he’s uncomfortable talking about Bo.