Page 65 of Dollhouse

“It’s me, baby. Fuck, Emma.” His hood is up, face pressed to my hair when I hear the sound of a car door being thrown open and he slides us inside. I straddle his lap as the door is shut and the silence finally washes over us. “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you.”

Every muscle in my body screams from the effort of holding in my breakdown and his hands go to my face, lifting it until all Isee are those whiskey eyes, red and broken. His own silent tears fall as his jaw tightens. His thumb brushes mine away, rubbing the wetness across my lips.

It’s painfully obvious he doesn’t know what to do with his, that he doesn’t even want me to see the weakness in him. But he eats up my face greedily, like having me here is the only thing that matters, and seeing this vulnerability in him centers me.

He’s here. He fucking came for us. I shudder, and his thumbs trail from my lips up my cheekbones. It’s him, his eyes on mine, not some piece of shit guard. It’s his hands touching me, comforting me. I’m covered, and I’m safe.

“Thank you.” The raspy words hurt from the ravaging strangle Eric had me in.

He shakes his head, licking his lips with that sadness still pinned on me, still petting my head absently like he needs to know I’m in his hands. “There’s nothing in this fucking world that would have stopped me from getting to you. You hear me? Not a single fucking thing.”

I drop my forehead to his. It’s all I have. He tightens the blanket around my shoulders and returns his large hand to the back of my head, holding me close until my tears run dry and our beating hearts slip back into sync with each other.

THIRTY-THREE

Emma’s hadnightmares from the very first day I pointed that gun at her in the bank and pushed her beautiful ass into my truck. It’s always been a constant, something I knew was coming every time she put her head on the pillow. Her mind is a lot of things, most of them sweet and good. Butdamn, does it hold on to fear and trauma with a death grip, only to serve it back to her at night like it’s got some kind of vendetta to fill.

Who needs enemies when your own head is the worst kind of villain?

Obviously we knew it would be intenselyworsewhen we got them home. Okay, homeis a stretch. We’re back at the cabin we first brought Bo and Emma to, which isn’t technically anyone’s home, but it is something. It’s familiar, and it’s safe.

Landon’s still MIA, but that will be rectified once I can focus. There’s no way that pussy is going to dare come out of hiding after what went down.

So we’re okay here, for now. The biggest enemy we have to fight is the impact of what happened and so far the fallout has been all encompassing. Of course it has; I’ve worked withsurvivors long enough to know that every single one of them deals in different ways, and there’s no set time line.

The experience hits very different, though, when it’s the woman you love who struggles. I’ve seen what happens to sexual assault victims when they don’t navigate the demons in their heads.

Look at Lily. I cannot fail another one of my girls again.

The first night with her back here is burned into my mind as one of the single most heartbreaking times of my life. Each moment of the drive, of laying eyes on Bo, was a knife to my fucking chest. Medical staff was on site at the cabin, one of the wives of a member who routinely does medical check ups on our survivors when we find them. It was too much work for one person, so we tried to assist however we could.

We forbid any man from giving them their exams, obviously. So many of the wives and daughters of our group members volunteer to receive training on how to help with their care. With the volume of victims freed on this raid, it was all hands on deck.

On top of that, Emma and Bo have refused to be separated since getting here, so we had the doctor meet with them together in Bo’s former room.

If I was a better man, I wouldn’t have listened to the conversation from my camera room. Unfortunately for Bundy and Eric, I need to know what they put Emma and Bo through, so that I can make sure the punishment does indeed fit the fucking crime.

But I wait patiently by the door when the doctor exits, pulling the gloves from her hands and looking up warily at me. It looks like I've been waiting here for updates, instead of listening with blood pounding in my ears at the devastation that Emma detailed.

Bo remained mostly silent. I’m worried for him in a different way.

“Well?” I ask, and she sniffs. I’ve known her for years, and Mary is as tough as they come. But her heart melts for the victims and she’s the best care I can provide for them.

She raises a brow at me, asking if I’m ready to hear the full story and I nod sharply. “Emma’s tears should heal on their own in a few weeks. I’m leaving ice packs and antibiotic ointment for swelling,” she says, narrowing her eyes when my jaw clenches. “Noah, you better be extremely calm when you go in there. Can you hear this or should I go talk to someone else?”

I shake my head, rolling my shoulders back. “No, sorry. Okay, I can help her with that.”

“Good. Bo refused a physical, okay? But if he’s dealing with the same injuries, I’ve left extra supplies. He’s also been wrapped for what I believe are bruised ribs, but if you can talk him into coming down to the clinic I can do an X-ray to confirm. If he shows any signs of weakening, please call me back over. They’ve both been given STD treatment, we can give them tests again in a few weeks. Emma’s been given emergency contraceptives, but based on her cycle it’s a low chance of fertility the past week.” She chews on her lip, checking her bag. “Um, I did wound care for their cuts and for Emma’s…bite marks.”

My body tightens but I try to hide the way my head turns into a goddamn animal.

“I’ll be honest, Bo is showing signs of a concussion, so if you can manage to keep him in bed, please do so.”

“I can do that.”

“The most important thing you can do for them right now is get them to talk to one of the psychologists. They both desperately need rest. Emma asked for a sleep aid tonight and fuck it, I gave it to her. Bo’s too weak to bathe himself, but he needs one if he’ll let you help.”

“Thank you, Mary,” I say, and she studies my eyes for a moment before zipping up her jacket and adjusting her bag. “We’ll see you in a few weeks.”