13. Ambrose—age eight #2
The number three doesn’t feel so lucky as the pounding in my head worsens. My stomach forces vomit up my throat following a punch. The white noise gets louder, drowning out Dollie’s panicked words that I can’t make out.
Each muscle in my body tenses as another hit catches me between my chest and stomach.
Blackness clouds my vision, dirty water splashing into my gaping mouth as Colin drops me to my knees. They hit the ground with a crack.
The scream leaving me is silent, nothing more than a huge breath, but it’s still loud enough to piss off the evil clown.
The round toes of his shoes feel like they are made from steel as they dig deep into my stomach.
I fall back into the water, completely crouched over as I try to stand. Bubbles float to the surface, but my wavering arms don’t have the energy to keep my face above water.
More bubbles.
I’m fading. My senses are slipping from my body when my head screams out as giant hands grip my skull. Forced against the wall by Chuckles, he moves his face far too close to mine.
I’m choking again, this time on the smoke from his stale cigarette, when he says, “Let this be a lesson that I don’t like fucking noise.”
He runs a finger to my lips, shushing me instantly.
There’s nothing I can do to stop my body from shaking with the fear I feel, but I force myself to calm my breathing, letting out small and controlled breaths through O-shaped lips, trying my best to stay quiet.
Taking it all in, the smile on his face tells me how terrible he is because he enjoys my terror, and I’m only grateful he can’t see what’s happening beneath the water as warmth surrounds me.
I’m still unable to stop myself from shaking when his big feet pound the stairs, and only when he closes the door and locks it on the other side do I take the giant breaths I need.
I grow colder, and rubbing my hands over my arms fails to warm me up.
Dollie crawls over through the water to get to my side. “Are you okay?”
I shouldn’t answer her, shouldn’t tell her my current feelings, but I do with a croaky voice.
“I hate you right now. I really hate you.” My mind thinks little of my injuries and encourages me to say it again and again.
“I hate you right now. I really hate you. I hate you right now. I really hate you.”
A tear drops down my face, and with the gentlest touch, she brushes it away.
Blue nail polish sparkles even in this dim light.
“No, you don’t. You’re just mad at me, right? You’re just mad. You don’t really hate me, do you?” Dollie places her small, wet pink jacket over me and huddles at my side.
I don’t reply, but my flared nostrils give me away as she stares up at me.
“He said he was taking us to Dahlia’s party. I just wanted to go to the party.”
“He lied.” My throat hurts as I talk, but I keep my voice quiet for another reason.
“We weren’t invited to the party, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.
I don’t care about Dahlia or her stupid party.
That freak upstairs is a dirty liar, and now we’re locked down here with no way out.
And we’re never gonna see Mom and Dad again.
And he’s just gonna hurt us whenever he feels like it.
You should have listened to me, Dollie.” My voice breaks. “You should have listened.”
“Daddy will find us. He always comes looking.”
“Yeah.” I pause, resting my throat for a small moment. “When we’re at home, playing hide and seek. Dad isn’t gonna find us here.”
“He will. Like in the movies, the princess always gets rescued.”
“Not in the kind of movies I watch, and you aren’t a princess. No one is coming for us.”
“Daddy says I am.” Her gaze steers away from me and moves to her nails, which she begins to pick at.
I itch with irritation for the grubby habit and turn away so I don’t have to see it. “Well, he’s wrong. You’re a nuisance and nothing else.”
“Why are you still being mean?” she asks in a small voice, probably as scared as I am of the repercussions.
“Because I’m hurt!” My head snaps to her, and I speak too loudly. Instantly, my eyes move to the door.
We’re both quiet, as is everything upstairs.
“It’s your fault we’re in this mess,” I tell her with an altered tone. “I just wish you’d listened. I wish we were home.”
Stretching across me, Dollie reaches into her coat pocket, struggling with the zipper. The water seeping in makes it appear difficult for her to grab anything.
“I got them.” Her clenched hand hovers over mine, and she drops my two missing teeth into my palm.
“Mommy says the Tooth Fairy grants wishes for special people. That’s how I got Duggan. Maybe the Fairy will grant you two wishes because you have two teeth.”
I close my fist around the teeth in my hand, holding them tight until they indent my skin. And I make my wish, closing my eyes as if praying.
When I open them again, I see Dollie, still sitting in the dirty water at my side, with tears streaming down her face. They create tiny splashes as they fall. She’s unmoving, her expression heavy with fear—her color drains.
“What is it?” I ask, concern overpowering anger.
She refuses to answer.
“Dollie!” I whisper shout. “What is it?”
“There’s something in the water.”
Yeah, mud and mold and fucking germs. Thinking of that, I’m quick to my feet.
I wrap my fingers around Dollie’s shoulder, but she doesn’t move.
“It’s coming closer.”
At first, she barely whispers, the tone cold and quiet, bringing goosebumps to my arms as I search the room, wondering what she can see.
“What is? I don’t see anything.”
“It’s coming closer!” she shrieks, jumping from the water.
Using the drawers for assistance, she scales the dresser.
“Quick! Quick! Crocodile! It’s so close to you!”
Fear drags me forward, thinking she could be right. I lose my sense of all thought except for getting out of the water, and I drop my teeth while taking a big jump that puts me on the dresser.
I gaze back out at the water. It’s black enough for something to hide, but Dollie’s senseless screaming makes me think she can see something out there moving closer, trapping us. But the water is still as I stare out. The dresser isn’t. It shakes as she pushes herself back against the stone wall.
“Dollie, there’s nothing there.”
“It’s got blood on its teeth, and they’re big and scary!” Her words are hectic, almost too fast to understand.
“There’s nothing down there.” My eyes stay on the very still water.
“It’s eaten people. It got Duggan. It told me. It told me it got Duggan.”
“No. Duggan is fine. He doesn’t bleed, remember? Like that time, his arm tore at home, and Mom stitched it with the old sewing machine. He didn’t bleed. Nothing got him. He isn’t down here. He’s at home with Mom and Dad.”
“What if it got them, too!”
Tears stream from Dollie’s eyes, turning the whites pink. The cries wrack her body, and her wailing echoes.
Pounding footsteps echo around her, causing something inside me to run cold. My hands shake as I pull her in, shushing her.
“It didn’t get any of them.” I hold her close, trying to soothe her anxiety so she’ll shut up, and I try to mask the desperation in my voice as I ask, “Please stop crying. Please be quiet. I promise they’re all safe.”
The door creaks open, and light floods in again, confirming my thoughts that there is no crocodile and Dollie’s own imagination is what’s scared her.
Still, she cries against me.
Words about the invisible crocodile are still in my ear, but I don’t hear them. Her small voice is white noise as I focus on Colin’s cruelty.
“What have you done to upset your sister?”
“Nothing.” I couldn’t lie. Another punch would break something inside me—maybe even a bone. “She’s cold and afraid, and that’s it.”
The water finally ripples as Chuckles moves toward us. His stare is on my throat, bringing a cruel smile to his face.
Swallowing hurts, but I do it to keep down my nerves.
Those giant dirty gloves claw at my shirt. My arms flapping with desperation do little to stop him from prying it from my body.
He examines the wet fabric with an amused glance before shoving it back into my hands. “If your sister is cold, give her something to wear.
Twisting to Dollie, who has conveniently hushed in his presence, I drape the wet T-shirt over her body. “This will help you keep warm.”
“Your Mom and Dad will be so proud of how well you care for your sister.”
His words sting me because I feel like I’ll never hear my parents say it. Because we’ll never see them again.