77. Dollie—present day
Dollie—present day
I knew this would be bad.
I didn’t know it would be ninety miles per hour around sharp bends and through residential areas bad.
The velocity pins me to my seat as much as fear. The wind tries to choke me from the open windows I’m not allowed to close because, apparently, I smell like a hospital.
The rain fights the sun to see which can get through the clouds fastest. The rain triumphs, splashing in on me.
“Clean my fucking car! It’s getting soaked because of you.”
I make no comment about how he could just close the window. Instead, I soak my sleeve as I use it to wipe away the rain.
Strands of long blonde hair cling to me. The car is cleaned religiously every week, indicating that someone else has been in here recently. I shake it away, letting it fall to the footwell.
“Just pull over, Shane!” I yell, hurting my own face to cut into his berating of me.
“So, you can run back to the hospital in your stupid pajamas?”
I look down at all the pink-haired unicorns that Ambrose thought were cute. “It was my idea to leave!”
“Why would you even go with him in the first place? Everyone is right about you. You’re fucking brainwashed. Why would you even want anything to do with him after what I told you last night?”
“My god, Shane! Do you hear yourself!”
“Do you?”
“I’m not the one judging someone because they may or may not have an illness.”
“An illness that can lead to a death sentence for anyone who contracts it! You better not get any of his blood in here, Lancie.”
“You are being?—”
“Cautious.”
“An asshole! You’re speaking through fear and lack of education. And I can’t stand it.” I can’t bite my tongue on this, so I risk another bruise. “You’ve done awful things to me, but do you know what I truly hate most? How you talk about him!”
We continue the rush to get home, tires racing over concrete.
“Because you won’t have anything negative ever said about him, will you?”
Shane swerves, narrowly missing the silver car that’s now behind us. The make and model fade into a blur, along with its loud honking as we speed away.
“Pull over.”
“No. You got in this car fucking willingly! You wanted to talk, so talk. I dare you to defend him again!”
“There’s really nothing to talk about.” Fear isn’t stealing my voice. I just have no more to say to this man.
“Because you’re sorry for the shit you’re putting me through?” he asks, his eyes on me and not the road for too long.
Because I’m sorry I ever met you.
“Yeah, I’m sorry you ever had to deal with me.”
“Good!” he snaps, eyes still on me when they should be on the road. “Just cut him out of your life. You got what you wanted. Revenge for me cheating. We’re fucking even now. You don’t need to keep hanging around him!”
“We aren’t even. I wouldn’t want to be. I’d never stoop that low.”
We round a corner that takes us onto the highway, and Shane’s foot slams to the floor.
“Yeah, it’s all on me, but you considered working on things. Why? You’ve held a grudge since that day! Threw away what we had because I liked some girls’ pictures. That’s fucking weird and?—”
“Disrespectful.” My eyes meet his face, waiting for him to butt in with another lie. “That’s what it is. It’s disrespectful.”
The car swerves, cutting into two lanes.
A flurry of honks and yelling comes from the road as we slam to a stop on the side of the road, leaving a trail of tire tracks marking the road behind us.
My seatbelt works overtime to stop me from headbutting the windshield, no doubt leaving another bruise on my collarbone where it digs into me.
“I’m disrespectful!” Those bitten down nails aim for my face and dig into my cheeks again, aggravating injuries he’s already caused.
The bruises I already have threaten to turn a deeper shade of purple, and the scabs beneath his fingers threaten to scar my face.
“You make me sick. I’ve put up with you for years. And why? You have nothing going for you. Your scarred hands touch me, and I cringe. Where the fuck is your gloves? Hmm? Then we have that pouch on your stomach. You think anyone will ever find you attractive, Lancie?”
A vision flutters into my head, pushing aside self-consciousness. Ambrose, in the music room, pointing to words that tell me I’m beautiful. Ambrose, in the bathroom, when shame clung to my naked body. No disgust in his glare… just acceptance.
It doesn’t matter what Shane thinks. A better man thinks I’m perfect. I remember his exact words—a rare kind of perfect.
“I can never even have a laugh with you. I do one thing wrong, and it’s the end of the world.”
“You did a lot of things wrong, Shane.”
“Name one. Go on!”
“You lied about that letter and broke my heart!”
His teeth grind together, showcasing the sandwich he had for lunch between the small gaps.
His head bobs, and I wait for his anger to blow any second as a creepy, overly stretched smile appears on his face.
“So, that’s what’s bothering you. That your special big brother wasn’t mean to you, after all.
He still murdered both of your parents.”
No, he didn’t.
“You cheated.”
“Like that’s worse.”
“You beat me for finding out. That’s pretty low.”
“Oh, I got my karma though, didn’t I! Big bro was there to save the day! Did you ever ask how I was after his fist smashed into my face all those times? No, not once!”
“Why would I! You caused it all.”
“It always comes back to what I did, but it wasn’t even that bad.
I didn’t actually fuck any of them.” Shane’s bad breath slaps me in the face, overpowering the stench of cheap aftershave cloying on his collar.
His weak jaw juts out, almost touching me, spit flying everywhere as he says, “I wish I had fucked them.”
He tosses me away, and my bruised face hits the car door. Rain pelts down on me, wet sprinkles of sense. I have to get out of this car.
“Yeah.” I find the strength—the courage—to nod, agreeing with him as I unbuckle the seatbelt that’s attempted to choke me multiple times today. “You should have, Shane. I wish I’d fucked someone else, too.”
Without another word, I reach for the door handle.
Freedom is calling me as I kick my legs out.
A heavy arm drags me back, slamming me into the worn leather seat so hard that I feel it bounce.
Hands lock around my throat, so many fingers digging into my windpipe and delicate bones.
“Do you really wanna do this? Die on the side of the road?” Shane’s words are all I hear, the low, sinister promises standing out against the traffic that’s become white noise.
My desperate attempts for breath don’t make it past the cutoff point of his fingers. I claw at them, but I can’t move his dry, calloused hands, even a fracture, not even enough to wheeze.
Desperate fists push at his chest and face, but his fingers only tighten.
This is it; I’m going to die.
Will Ambrose know how I feel?
Will he be okay?
“You’ll never see him again. Oh, just imagine how hurt he’ll be. Imagine how he’ll drag that blade across his throat, just like he did your mother’s.”
Tears flood my eyes, ready to repent.
He didn’t do it!
Forcing my eyes up to Shane’s hateful brown stare, so much discomfort fills me.
His blown pupils stare back at me, revealing humanity has left him. He feels nothing as my hands weaken. My nails scratch at him because that’s all I can manage.
My name calls to me from somewhere in the distance. My eyes move side to side, expecting to see a phantasmal figure of Daddy, if he forgives me, ready to take me to heaven or wherever it is we’ll go.
But the accent isn’t Irish.
Chuckles…my eyes widen at the thought of that awful clown coming to drag me to hell.
“Dollancie! Everything okay?” The voice comes again, definitely belonging to a man.
A man I know.
“Shit.” Shane lets go.
I ease forward, attempting to see in the side mirror. A cruel hand thumps into my breast, shoving me hard into the seat.
I wince, pitifully like an animal whose master has turned on them.
“See what you make me do! I’m gonna go deal with him. Shut up, stay put, and stay quiet, and there’ll be no more fucking arguments.”
Shane jumps from the car, asking an impossibility, because my lungs have greedily clutched at air since the second he removed his violent hands.
Still shaking with anger, he plasters on a fake smile that I can barely see through the rearview mirror and tinted back windows.
Ignoring whatever words he has blowing into the wind, my shaking legs, bouncing rapidly, knock on the door, reminding me I still have a chance to get away.
I pull the handle, but my legs fail me, and I stumble on the first step out onto the edge.
Stones and mud attack my knees as I land on the ground.
The pain doesn’t register, the intense feeling of suffocating in my lungs, and the ache in my breast are all I can focus on.
“Dollancie!” the voice comes again. “Dollancie!”
Taking a painful breath that’s a little too deep, I turn in the direction of my name. Looking through pink waves, I see blond hair and a look of shock.
Nyx had already seen my bruises and pretended to accept the lie that I fell out of bed. He hadn’t seen the tears and fear that I might not survive the day that’s plastered on my face now.
That’s probably how Mom and Dad felt.
That thought brings more tears.
Shane rushes over, stepping in the way of Nyx, who was already reaching for me.
“Still feel lightheaded, huh?” he asks, faking concern and a whole-ass story that is different from the one I’d told.
“She wasn’t feeling well. That’s why we pulled over.
Did she tell you about her slipping in the bathroom?
That’s why her face looks so bad. Bounced straight out of the tub.
Which is probably why she has a headache. ”
I struggle to talk, my throat still constricted as my fingers massage the area. Tears still sting my eyes as Shane hoists me into the seat. “Let’s get you home, huh?”