Page 382 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
Bubbles goes to investigate. “Don’t eat that.” I bang the wall with one hand. Shane, still gripping my other hand too tightly, pulls me through the kitchen. He opens the door and uses his free hand to drag her outside by her longer curls.
“Don’t do that! Don’t hurt her!”
“It doesn’t hurt the stupid fucking animal. Why do we even have her? We’re stuck here looking after a fucking dog we didn’t even get to pick.”
“There is no us. She’s mine. Ambrose got her for me, and I love her.”
“And him, right?”
He leans in, waiting for an answer, and I shrink in on myself.
To my surprise, he lets me go and turns away, and I do the same, walking on trembling legs, with tunnel vision to the empty workspace across the room. The more distance between us, the easier it is to breathe.
If I tell him I’m a killer, will he leave?
Will he fear me the way I fear him?
I set the perfect cake down in a safe space where it can rest.
I wish I had a safe space, too.
Ambrose. He’s that for me.
6:22 p.m.
Where the fuck is he?
As if Shane hears my thoughts, noise screams out behind me. The metallic echo lets me know the drying cutlery has hit the wall and descended to the floor with the piping bags.
With the cake no longer in my hands, their shaking worsens, and I can’t force myself to turn around, even as footsteps stomp closer.
Time to react is against me. Shane is too fast.
Harsh fingers grab my hair, ripping so many strands from the root. The unyielding grip sends me forward, my face smashing down into the cake I’d spent hours on and ruining the only thing that had brought me solace today.
Chunks of vanilla and white chocolate race down my throat, both attempting to choke me as my mouth opens instinctively for air. My nostrils clog with frosting, and my poor breathing only worsens my struggle as I try to detangle Shane’s fingers from my hair.
“All I fucking wanted was him out of your life.” He pulls me back until my neck strains. His mouth veers close to my ear. His hate is loud and clear and echoing as he slams me forward again.
Different ingredients stain my face as it plunges into the cake for the second time.
He pulls me back again.
“But you couldn’t fucking do that, you stupid cunt.”
I don’t get to lie to him, to pacify him with words that will remove his hands from me. I’m too busy choking on cake crumbs and tears. And that isn’t good enough.
Frosting smears my hair as he forces my head into the cake once more. It hangs on my wet lashes, making it hard to see him as he forces me around. Strands of hair are deposited into the cake box as Shane shakes them from his fingers. Those fingersand blunt nails move to my face, cutting through the frosting on my cheeks, bruising me, and causing pain to my gums.
“Answer my fucking question. And with the fucking truth, or I’ll gut you, like you did Daddy.”
Sadness leaks out in loud wails.
There’s nothing inside Shane now that resembles the boy I once cared so much about. His pupils, blown with rage, make him the scariest thing I’ve ever seen. His tone is different—almost demonic. His look and actions are so manic.
I want to fight back, but I can’t move. My stiff legs betray me by not letting me run. My mouth betrays me by begging him to stop.
“Please...” I beg, and I feel a trickle of water spread down my legs.
