Page 107 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
Her name is Bubbles—not my choice. She’s an early birthday gift for you.
I didn’t mean to startle you when I came home.
I wasn’t expecting her to almost knock you off your feet.
I’ve actually been here the whole time you have. I was released a little while back on good behavior, and we’ve managed to live in harmony since you came home.
Can you believe I’ve managed to stay in a different room the whole time?
It’s been so hard, Dollie.
We’ve run into each other a few times. That’s been hard, too, having to walk away from you when all I want to do is stay with you until I’m sure you’re okay.
I live upstairs in my room, and I rarely come down here. But I’m here when you need me, if you ever need me.
I have a job and not much time for a dog, but this one became mine by chance today. I figured you’d like her.
She’s a bit of a nag, but she’s loving, and you deserve someone who’ll love you unconditionally. Plus, you always wanted a poodle. She can keep you company now that you spend a lot of time at home alone.
I know you hate me. The walls are surprisingly thin. The whole town does, so I don’t judge you for it. But the feeling isn’t mutual, and one day, you’llsee that everything I’ve done was in your best interests.
You have no reason to be afraid. I’d never hurt you. At my angriest, I never did. You know I wouldn’t. I couldn’t, regardless of anything that’s happened.
We don’t have to be enemies. We share a home and grief, and we both miss them, Dollie. We both hurt, and I’d like to think that, in some way, we both miss each other, too.
It’s unlikely, but if you ever want an actual human to hang out with and Annabelle isn’t around, I’m sure Bubbles will start to miss me soon.
Don’t feel you have to run. I’m heading back upstairs, and I’ll be working tonight.
Your phone is on the other side of this door with your new friend.
- A.
CHAPTER 26
Dollie—present day
Sitting against the door, my faithful spot of trauma handling, I lose track of the words I’m screaming. They no longer make sense to even my own ears.
He can’t be here.
I can’t stay here.
My ramblings turn to sobs as I rock myself, needing something to stabilize my emotions.
I twist into the door, my fingers moving over the shiny wood. It’s not enough—not soft or comforting enough to relax me.
I reach for my sock. There’s a thin satin bow on the side, and it grants minor relief. I pull them back up over my knees to stop me from having to stretch.
Something catches under my foot as I bring my knees close to my chest. It’s a note shoved under the door. One, I have to read through tears.
They make the fresh ink run as they splatter on the page.
He’s such a fucking liar—it’s a man thing. Or it’s anall-the-men-close-to-mething.
He’d never hurt me. Bullshit, because he’d told me how he’d do it in very graphic detail in the last letter he wrote.
Does he not remember that?
