Page 47 of Dollhouse

If I didn’t obey him, then he’d touch her, and I hated when his meaty hands were on Lee’s fragile prepubescent body. Her pale skin was still covered in purple, green, and black bruises from the latest punishment she endured for refusing his advances when he tried to touch her body and she fought him off.

Tonight, she didn’t get to say no.

Usually, whenever she fought him and said no, he’d hit her, but tonight that wasn’t going to happen.

If she said no tonight, she wouldn’t just get hit, instead, he’d open his toolbox and use one of the tools on her that he always threatened her with, or worse, instead of hitting her, he’d touch her private areas himself.

I’d rip his fat ass to shreds if he ever touched Lee.

I was the one raping Lee every night, not Greg—our foster father. It was me that did his dirty work, and when I disobeyed, my punishment was worse than hers. But it was a punishment I’d gladly take if it meant she’d be okay for the night.

Lee always begged me to not disobey. She said she’d rather it be me who hurt her instead of him. She could barely handle me, and I knew if he was the one to do it, then she’d be split in half. She was so tiny and malnourished. Her bones protruded from her skin.

Andrea, our foster mother, was at work, which meant it was time for Greg to complete his “work” as he called it.

Every time, I hated myself for hurting her, but she was always there to reassure me that it was okay and I was doing her a favor.

No matter how my angel tried to justify it, I was raping her.

And Lee was an angel. She was sent to me to help me through the days, even though I knew how selfish it was to think that she was meant for me when I was the devil who’d been hurting her.

Greg hit her, but I invaded her body.

I hated myself. I hated myself even more when my body betrayed me and I derived pleasure in what we were doing, and the pleasure would build until I’d come inside of her.

Every time that I’d pull out of her body, my dick would be covered in her blood.

Greg would leave us alone in the studio afterward, and she would curl up in my arms and assure me everything was fine.

How could she think that? How could she not blame me when I was hurting her? And my dick was covered in the evidence of her pain. She was twelve now; we’d been doing this nearly every night for two years, and not once had she ever blamed me or been afraid of me.

I hated myself to the point that I began cutting. I needed a release for my pain, and I found the way to get that release was by taking a razor to my arms. My left forearm was still wrapped in a white bandage from my most recent date with my razor.

“Get the fuck over here!” Greg yelled, shoving me in the back and pushing me toward the twin bed with the white sheets in the middle of the studio.

Lee was already on the bed, her knees to her chest and her hands covering her malnourished naked body. Even with sneaking her food, she was still extremely small and sickly pale. Bile rose in the back of my throat just seeing her and that scared look in her eyes.

The sick fuck—Greg—recorded us and sold his homemade kiddie porn on the internet to his pervert friends. I vowed one day to hunt all his friends down and kill those sick worthless fuckers.

Tonight was different than other nights.

Lee had a miscarriage two weeks ago, and since that happened, I hadn’t been able to see her.

Greg had kept her locked in the basement and convinced Andrea that she’d snuck out and that’s how she got pregnant. They locked her away for “her own good” as they said. And now I was seeing her for the first time in two weeks. I didn’t exactly know what happened, all I knew was that Lee woke up in the middle of the night bleeding and Andrea took her to the hospital.

I didn’t see Lee when they returned, but I overhead Andrea and Greg talking about the miscarriage after they came back from the hospital.

Lee was pregnant. I got her pregnant.

I promised to protect her, and I failed. I was ruining the beautiful angel that was sent to me.

I must protect her. I didn’t know how, but I knew that I needed to protect her from this life with Greg.

I loved her, I always had, even despite hating myself for hurting her, I loved her. We both needed to get away, and it had to happen sooner rather than later.

While Greg was setting up the camera and getting it adjusted, I was sitting on the bed holding Lee in my arms and stroking her silky blonde hair that always smelled like honey and vanilla.

“I’m sorry about the baby,” I whispered in her ear. Her head jerked up and her sad blue eyes stared into mine.

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