Page 60 of Dollhouse

Oh, that’s right. What he did to Bo is common knowledge now. He doesn’t like that Iknow.

“You lied,” I say, letting the details go unsaid. He’s lied about so many things, I’m not sure where to begin.

Maybe with being a pedophile.

He sighs, running his hand through his hair. “You have to understand, Emma, I did everything for you.”

I blink. “What…what did you just say?”

He looks me up and down. “Emma, look at this house. This yard. The furniture, everything. You chose all of this. It was exactly what you wanted.”

I brush past him, moving to my dresser and dragging open the drawer. It’s stuffed full of my favorite sundresses, because nobody was here to switch out the summer clothing for the winter box on the top shelf of my closet. I snatch up the yellow plaid print and fling it over my head.

I did everything for you.Another lie. Another gaslight. I’m so sick of men and the way they try to twist everything, like I’m not smart enough to see what they’re doing.

Jaw clenched, I turn on him, hating how he’s casually leaning against the counter like he hasn’t broken me. Like he didn’t just let me out of a locked dog cage so we could have this conversation.

I motion to my entire body, bruised, scraped, abused. “Thank you, Eric. This is exactly what I wanted. I don’t know how I can ever repay you for everything you’ve done for me.”

He huffs and looks at the floor. “You sound so different now.”

“Different like my life is over? Like I’ve been kidnapped twice now, thanks to you?” I rush forward to get in his face. The indignant anger swells until I need the conflict, some sortof release for the pain. His eyes widen at my nerves and I hate that even more, my next words bursting out in a shout. “Like my husband pulling down my underwear so that all those men couldrape me?”

They end on a jagged scream and I watch him closely as my chest rises and falls.

I’ve caught him off guard. Never have I raised my voice to Eric. Any issue I had was handled with a soft questioning, making it eternallyeasyfor him to be around me. Quieting myself to keep him comfortable.

Not now. The room shakes with my words. Like theymatter.

“I didn't mean for things to go this way, Emma. It was good, until everything blew up,” he says, brushing me back. I see the crack in his gentle facade, and Ilove it.“I didn’t have a choice. By the time I realized what I’d gotten into with Bundy it was too late for me to go back.”

I laugh in his face, relishing the way he jerks away from it. He had so many years to be a fucking monster without having to answer for it in any way. Having a family that was willing to cover up your every indiscretion would do that to a man. “So you’re blaming Bundy for hurting Bo as a kid, huh? You're blaminghimfor you being a goddamn pedophile? You got that girl pregnant, Eric!Youdid that, all on your own. You lied to me about getting a vasectomy? You lied about everything. I never knew who you were.”

Another nerve hit and he snarls at my narrowed eyes, standing tall. “You did! You had me, the best part of me.” The words sound desperate and fall to the floor when I don’t accept the lies. Shaking his head, he pauses for a moment, then looks back to me with defeat in the lines of his face. “I’ve never been a good person, Emma. Never. That’s why our arrangement was made by our parents. Mine needed to improve my image after what happened…after Bo.” He swallows thickly as my eyesnarrow. “You did that. But I always meant what I felt for you. I tried to save the good in me for this house, for you.”

I shake my head, rejecting him and turning away. He’ll just keep twisting reality to play the victim and it’s disgusting. “You’re pathetic.” I laugh, heading for the bedroom. “I can't even look at you.”

Fuck him. He said Bo was here and he’s not doing well. I need to figure out how to get us out.

“You know, you’ve got a lot of nerve,” he says, quiet enough that I barely hear him. But I do and the insinuation that I’ve done something to wrong him pulls me back into the fight. “Judging me. Hating me. You had a soft life here, you know. And the second you were in the hands of another man, you gave him everything, didn’t you?”

My face flushes. With anger and maybe a flash of embarrassment. Not because I feelcaught, like I’d cheated. It’s like a stranger witnessed an intimate moment between me and a lover. It’s not his right to comment on what me and Noah have, on what we do.

“Noah’s shown me more in these past few months than you ever did. I was a toy for you, just like Bo was. You made sure both of us were dependent on you for everything, just like you liked it.”

“Isolation might have been better for you, if you were going to spread your legs for everyone in the house.”

It’s a slap in the face but I have no idea why it shocks me. He’s a narcissist and losing one of his playthings will bring out the worst in him.

“So what?” I ask, suddenly tired of this conversation, this day, of the pointlessness in arguing with someone who has no moral gauge. “Are you going to kill us?”

“No, Emma. I’m merely explainingwhyI’ve decided that officially giving you to Bundy is the right choice. I felt so guiltyat first, because you were such a sweet, perfect little wife. But he reminded me how quickly you whored yourself out for that third rate Robin Hood group of yours, and now I almost want to see you ruined. Just a bit,” he says, motioning with his hand a small amount, like it’s a joke. "At least now you’re a little nicer looking for him. That’s the version he wanted. The pretty blonde in a sundress. Not the desecrated mess that he saw before.”

Oh, so the charade is finally over. It’s the real Eric here now, and even though I knew it was in there somewhere, it’s scary to see him step into it so seamlessly.

Two gunshots ring out in the hallway, and I stumble backward, hitting the wall. The bedroom door opens slowly, completely at odds with the scene outside of them. Blood splatters the wood, dropping down the crystal doorknobs I’d scoured the local antique stores to find.

Bundy stands there, those inhuman eyes pinning me down. The gun in his hand hangs at his side and I let myself study it and the two dead bodies he’s standing over. They must have been guarding my door.