20. Ambrose—present day
Ambrose—present day
V alaria is going to murder me. And I can guess how, probably with those razor claws she wears on her fingertips.
I’m styled for the night but am very late for work, and I haven’t even left yet. I wasn’t expecting the evening to go this way. To be getting ready upstairs and hearing all those screams and scuffles. The house is huge, so they were very fucking loud for me to hear in my room.
Any thoughts of potential distance I’d forced into my head about Dollie went straight out of my bedroom window when I heard her scream, begging that creep to take his hands off her.
It was the worst thing I’d ever experienced.
Enough to break my twenty-year vow of silence.
And that’s why I’ve been on edge since.
I’m waiting for something bad to happen to her.
Though it’s unlikely now because that dickhead is out of the house—and Dollie’s life, hopefully.
And here I am, still at home.
Still watching… lurking.
Still testing Valaria’s patience.
Dollie sits on the reading room floor amongst the destruction, and I can’t pull my eyes away from her.
Is it the flushed cheeks that tell me she still needs comfort?
Her attention shifts continuously between Duggan, with his tie and the sensory pleasure it gives her, her food, and her phone, while slow tears still fall.
She eats, smooths the tie, picks up a broken piece of a winged horse or unicorn, and places it in the trash can she has nearby, then repeats.
But she isn’t present.
It’s obvious from the vacant look in her eyes that her mind is somewhere else.
That’s why I can’t leave, even though I should. I should busy myself—go to work and have Valaria shouting over the noise inside my head.
Over the voice that whispers, touch the wall three times, or a piece of ceramic will splinter into Dollie’s food, and she’ll die.
Tap, tap.
Wiping the dust on my jeans, I frown over the mess Shane caused in my perfectly neat tunnel. There is fucking dust everywhere. And I need to repair this wall at some point if Dollie ever leaves this fucking room.
Like the vandals haven’t had me busy enough lately.
My thoughts continue, pressing me to tap the wall again, and I do, and again, I brush my hand down my pants to get rid of the dust.
My mind isn’t always so crazy. The emotions I feel tonight are heightening things.
Stress is to blame.
I’m still shaking from the image burned into my head—Dollie, terrified in that bastard’s grip—a piece of an ornament pressing into her chest while hands cut off her circulation.
I didn’t consider the repercussions.
Even now, the idea of returning to prison doesn’t lessen my desire to protect her.
The burning rage inside me that wanted to keep punching Shane until he couldn’t breathe is still present, and it makes me jittery.
A quick glance at my knuckles shows a swelling that will make tonight’s shift of pouring drinks difficult. The purple color will blend in with the décor of the bar nicely, though.
My eyes return to Dollie, her far-off look replaced by a melancholy expression.
Relief washes over me as she swallows down forkfuls of chow mein.
No splinters.
Annabelle helps with the mess whenever she isn’t slurping her own noodles.
Dollie filled her in on her second interaction with me while they waited for the food to arrive.
It took an hour, and that’s how late I am for work.
As odd as it seems, Dollie acted like she didn’t recognize me in the music room, but her expression in the hallway during our prior engagement said the opposite.
There is no way she wouldn’t recognize me. Not unless her mind has switched off, in some way.
It's happened before.
A pain in my chest calls to be rubbed away when a tear drops from her face to her food.
I should thank Shane for his destruction, I guess.
If not for him, I’d only be able to listen and not spy through the cracked wall.
And I need to see her.
Dirty socks keep catching my attention, taking it away from the tears on Dollie’s face, and it annoys me so much that I try to shake it off.
I make a silent plan of mopping the floor when I get in because she’ll be sleeping by then. My mind promises the constant alarm to remind me.
Because it’s dirty.
Because there are germs everywhere.
Her voice pulls my attention back to her.
“I think I remember this one.” She picks up a white ceramic horse with rose-pink accents throughout the intricate design.
It’s the perfect replica, like all the others.
When I got back a few months ago, all of Mom’s trinkets had already been destroyed by vandals. If I had known by whom, I’d have been tempted to do the same to their home.
Because, despite everything, Mom meant a lot to me.
The replacements were the first thing I’d bought for the house. Partly for her, partly for me, and the incessant need I ignore that has me wanting to make her proud of the person I am now. Because everyone knows, nothing Dollie or I did after our abduction pleased either of our parents.
It came down to guilt, I guess.
“I’m honestly surprised they survived the break-ins. Not all intruders have been as nice as your friend earlier.”
Me, being the friend.
A smile tugs at my lips when Dollie nods.
Annabelle continues, “My dad says the house has been wrecked a few times.”
“How many break-ins have there been?”
“I don’t know, but hopefully, they’ll ease off now that you’re home.”
“Someone got in yesterday. There was fresh writing on the wall. We had some windows open during the day, and an upstairs window was somehow open late into the night.”
That isn’t how that person got in. I’d made the mistake of leaving the door unlocked while running out to get a notebook from my car. A loner drifted in with the wind. He’d left his mark on the wall before I dragged him through the door by his unbrushed hair.
“Do you think it’s safe for me to stay here?” Dollie continues. “I know you’re here tonight, but tomorrow?—”
“I can bunk tomorrow. But the next day, I have a work trip, so I have to go out of town for like two weeks.”
“I guess I have to learn to be alone at some point. I don’t know if Shane will try to come back this time.” Ignoring her chow mein, her attention stays on Duggan—on the soft yellow tie I’d put around his neck.
If she lets him back into her life, I’m not sure I’ll fight the temptation to drag her through the house myself…and lock her somewhere he’s too lazy to look.
“That’s good. Honestly, you shouldn’t let him back, even if he begs on his fucking knees.”
“I don’t know any different. I don’t like being alone or change.”
“I will call you every hour if I have to. I’ll pass it off as a sensitive bladder and take pee breaks. And I’ll have my dad stop by and check on you daily. You don’t need Shane.”
“I hope that won’t be necessary, but yes, please call when you can. You don’t have to take a million pee breaks.” Dollie smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Eyes that stay low.
Dollie’s mind drifts again. I see it in the slight widening of her pretty blue eyes—so much like Mom’s. I see it in the tense way she holds Duggan.
A beat passes, and she asks, “Do you think he would have actually killed me?”
Not a fucking chance.
Annabelle sets down her dinner. “Men like him don’t always do what they do to you to kill.
Sometimes, they do it because they want you to know that they can.
They want that control over you, but it can always escalate.
You deserve so much better than whatever the fuck he is.
It’s merely days before your birthday, he’s made no plans for you, and what’s your gift? You found out he was cheating.”
“I saw messages on his phone from like five hundred different women, and I’m not exaggerating.” Dollie wipes a stray tear. Her head lifts so she can see Annabelle’s face, but not her eyes, maybe just those glowing teeth that she had done in Turkey last year.
“He probably just wanted to control you, and in truth, I feel like he’s done it for years.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, when was the last time we did something like this?” Annabelle’s words come out quickly, eager to slip around the noodles she’s returned to and put in her mouth. “When did we have a girls’ day?”
“I just always felt bad about leaving him on his own.”
“Did you never think there was a reason that he had no friends?”
“He did. He did things with the guys from work. They’d go to amusement parks and out for food.”
“And where did he ever take you?”
“We didn’t go often. He said it would cost him double to do anything with me, as I don’t earn enough to pay for myself.”
“You stayed with this guy for ten years, and he’d moan about having to pay for your lunch?”
“Ironic, isn’t it? Because he was fine with paying for drugs for one of his floozies. You know, thinking about it, those days out with work friends could have been dates with other women.”
“He’s a cunt.”
He is a cunt, Annabelle, I agree.
“I’m sorry, and I’m so sorry for what happened here tonight. For how you wheeze when you talk.”
Fuck . I’ve been trying to ignore that, but flaring nostrils say she’s not doing too well.
“We can call my dad. You can have him arrested for attempted murder.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I must be cursed. A guy comes near me, and bam, prison.”
“It’s really not the same thing as your brother.”
“Isn’t it?” Dollie holds Duggan a little tighter, and Annabelle slouches over the view ahead—a twenty-five-year-old woman clutching a soft toy like it’s a lifeline.
“No,” Annabelle says in a careful tone. “This guy would deserve it.”
“And… what about Ambrose?” The way Dollie says my name has the hairs on my arms rising. I wanna hear her say it again, but all I hear is the irritating buzz of my phone against my leg.
“I feel the same as you do regarding that. Ambrose wasn’t in his sane mind.
He didn’t do what he did because he got caught doing something shitty.
He did it because the voices in his head told him to.
Yeah, he deserved sentencing, but in an institution, not a prison.
What happened to your parents was awful, but your stepbrother is mentally ill.
He’d only been home from the institution for about six hours.
It was obviously too soon for him to have been released. ”
“Yeah. I know.” Finally, another forkful of chow mein makes it to Dollie’s mouth. “Can we just talk about something else?”
“Yes,” Annabelle says with a big smile and no noodles in sight.
Thank fuck.
“I have an idea to get you over your shitty boyfriend. That way, you can stop checking your phone every two minutes to see if he’s apologized yet, which I don’t doubt he will. But by that time, you won’t wanna hear it.”
“I’m not checking for an apology. I keep hearing a phone buzz.”
Shit. I pull my phone from my pocket, muting the sound as Valaria’s name and number flash on my screen again. The urge to turn it back up and down again wins out, and I do it twice, praying it won’t be heard.
“It’s not mine. Or there’d be a tacky early 2000s playlist blasting in here. I like statement sounds.”
“I remember the one you had in high school.”
“It’s the exact same one.”
“I could probably guess the songs.” Dollie smiles, and I find myself smiling as well.
“Probably.” More noodles enter Annabelle’s mouth.
“I actually have a message.”
“Tell me it isn’t from him, or I might just gag on dinner.” She at least has the decency to cover her mouth while she talks this time.
“It’s from his mother.”
“Coincidence?”
“No. The woman hardly ever spoke to me until she found out we were coming here.”
“I thought you used to drive her places?”
“I did, back when I had a car, but when my usefulness faded out, so did our relationship. She never texts me.”
“So, what does it say?”
“It’s long.”
“We have all night. Read it out loud. We can plan our hexing later. Your crystals are already out.”
Out and gathered around them as they eat because Dollie feels like she needs protection from Dad.
The only person she needs it from, well, those crystals won’t help with him.
“Okay, here goes,” she begins. “I just heard about what happened from Shane. I don’t have time to argue.
I’m busy at work. Some of us have real jobs, you see.
” Dollie pauses, the words hurting her. “All I have to say is I can’t believe you sent him back to sleep on our sofa.
It’s so convenient how you throw him out now after he’s helped you do all that work there. ”
“Send her a photo of this fucking mess. Show her what he’s actually done here.”
“You make him out to be so bad—” Dollie pauses again, this time to wipe the sweat from her palms. “But if he were, you’d have left years ago.
Oh, but then you wouldn’t have had anywhere to go, would you?
You’re showing your true colors, and they are dark.
I see through you. He’s told me everything, and maybe it’s something in your brain, or maybe it’s your childhood and all the trauma you suffered because you’re clearly ill—mentally ill, just like your brother. ”
“Is she fucking serious? Give me that phone.” Annabelle stretches out a hand, but Dollie refuses.
“Still not done. I hope when you sell that house, you’ll be paying Shane back for everything he’s ever spent on you, because it’s a lot.
You owe him a lot. You could do a lot worse than him.
Yeah, what he’s done with other girls is bad, but it’s no worse than us having to see you look down on him and slate him on social media constantly.
You’re not nice, Lancie. And your behavior is not nice! ”
“I hope you dragged him to the fucking ground on social media. She can go next.”
“I literally just removed my relationship status and replied to Nyx when he asked what happened.”
“Fuck me.” Finally, Annabelle shoves the noodles away, and I don’t have to worry anymore about her spitting them everywhere. “Well, narcissistic mothers will raise narcissistic sons. Obviously, Shane’s behavior is learned… from the beast. Oops, I mean best. Is there any more?”
“A tiny bit. I hope this is the end, and he sees you for what you really are.”
I can’t have an opinion right now. Mostly because words can’t describe how much I hate this woman, and I’ve never even met the fucker.
Another buzz of my phone has me looking down to see the message there from my boss.
Valaria:
If you’re not here within the next ten minutes, I’d better hear that you’ve been in a car wreck or something. I am up to my eyeballs in customers.
Ambrose:
And yet, you’ve got time to fucking nag me constantly.
BTW, I’m on my way.
Well, I will be… shortly.