24. Ambrose—present day
Ambrose—present day
I ’m playing a dangerous game.
It started when Dollie first answered my message.
No, it started when I joined that app to talk to my sister as someone else.
Fucked up, I know.
Especially because I can’t actually bring myself to talk to her face-to-face.
I’d spent the day at Mrs. Bannadosi’s place, until my work shift neared.
And fuck, I can’t wait for this shift to end. I didn’t get any sleep last night after work, and I didn’t get any before work tonight, either.
I feel ready to drop as I wipe down glasses at the busy bar.
The glass in my hand shines, but it doesn’t feel clean enough.
My mind tells me it’s still dirty when my eyes show something else.
My mind is ruined.
Spending my free time overlooking the dying woman, who I feel obligated to visit because she has no one else, it’s not doing my mental health any favors.
I feel like shit while I’m there and long after I leave.
I was due to leave when my phone buzzed.
The clover tattoo worked. It got Dollie talking to me.
It’s been close to three hours now, and we’ve talked on and off. During the last hour, it has been harder to keep up with messages between filling drinks and collecting glasses. But every time the busy bar lulls, I pull out my phone again.
And I feel less empty knowing Dollie still likes talking to me. Just as long as she doesn’t know it’s me.
And she can’t know it’s me, her freak brother.
LittleDoll:
You’re not supposed to drink on the job.
I ignore Dollie and the fact that I may be developing a slight drinking problem, and I stick my glass under the shot dispenser, after I check Valaria isn’t around.
Fresh wounds greet my line of vision, and I make it my mission to roll down my sleeves as soon as I’m done. Cutting myself is becoming a daily occurrence.
03Lucky03:
Trust me. If you worked here, you’d understand.
The crowd is again full of jesters and clowns, and it’s not even the staff who are yet to get the memo. It’s customers here to torment me. It happens every so often, but it’s more noticeable when it’s just the customers.
My frustration comes out in a sigh as my attention clings to each shiny mask and glowing white face.
One face looks too familiar.
It takes me back in time to our first months in a monster’s care.
“Please, we’ll be good,” I beg on my knees in the dirty water.
Dollie sits on the dresser, like always. Rocking, like always. Her head hits the wall over and over again, and I hear it between her yelling random words that don’t make sense to me.
Is she doing it on purpose?
Flared nostrils let out only a hint of my anger.
“You don’t know how.” Colin nods in Dollie’s direction. “I’ve tried to be nice, but you both always throw it in my face. What is it that’s wrong with her, anyway? I thought you were the crazy one?”
“Fear,” I mouth, feeling that word as he gets too close to my face with his dirty breath.
It’s probably more than fear. And it isn’t craziness. It just doesn’t make sense to Colin. With me? I get it. Sometimes, things only make sense in your own head.
The world outside isn’t meant to understand.
“I don’t. No, I don’t! I don’t!” Colin proves his evilness as he copies Dollie’s every scream. Each word hurts my ears and blows my sweaty hair from my face.
Stepping around me, he moves to Dollie. Unlike me, she doesn’t go silent when he nears.
Her rocking intensifies, and those screams, too.
“I can get her to be quiet if you leave?” I approach them in the water just as he clamps a dirty glove over her mouth.
She inhales his germs and attempts to claw at his hand, desperate to get him away from her face. He whispers a cruel threat that echoes around the room and in my ears repeatedly.
“If you don’t be quiet, I’ll hurt your brother.”
The voice in my head starts talking over him.
Touch Colin three times, or Dollie will suffocate.
Lots of thoughts surround Dollie now.
All thoughts.
I take a step closer, my legs feeling weaker than ever. I hold back the vomit in my stomach as I tap his back three times.
Assuming I want his attention, he snaps, “What?”
“I—uh—I really can keep her quiet. I know how.”
A wary glance that shows little faith hits me over his shoulder.
“You have one chance. I won’t tell you again.”
Removing his hand from Dollie’s mouth, she stays silent now but rocks again.
Another look comes my way, this one with a tiny bit of trust. I turn away from it, not even wanting that from him when I need it most, if I ever plan on us getting out of here.
With each day that goes by, I wonder why we’re still here, still alive…
With that thought in mind, I climb the dresser. I offer my ribs to Dollie, all their bruises on display as my wet T-shirt isn’t on my body, and she cuddles in.
I suck in a big breath and do it from my mouth because she smells like death.
Putrid odors cling to her matted hair and dirty legs as she holds me tightly, taking my arm in her hands. I let her play with a single strand of hair that fascinates her so much.
It reminds me of when Mom caught her playing in the dust at the new house. The stress it brought out in her brings her yelling to my ears in tattered memories. It brings stress to me now, and a tear falls.
“You have one chance, boy.”
Another tear falls as I nod.
Colin moves away, the water parting at his feet like he’s some kind of god.
The fourth step takes his weight when Dollie’s rocking intensifies. Her noises that will have him turning around will start any second. I know her too well.
“Shh, shh, shh,” I coo, rocking with her a little. “I’m gonna sing you Mom’s lullaby, okay.”
Mom’s lullaby is Dollie’s favorite song in the world.
Tugging the little hair, Dollie nods. Silently.
“Dude!”
I blink back to the bar, and a man standing before me with an unimpressed look, tapping his fist on the bar. He isn’t dressed like a clown, which helps me tolerate his shitty attitude.
“How about some service?”
I nod, and with my gaze on him, I blink again a few times, giving him a silent go-ahead to tell me his order.
Poison.
He likes the green stuff, apparently.
I fill his drink, and he dumps some money on the table. Short a dollar, he’s gone before I tell him that. It’s probably his way of saying fuck you to me.
Taking the dollar from my own wallet, I make up his charge.
My attention goes back to my phone.
To Dollie.
LittleDoll:
Probably, I’m not much of a social butterfly.
More like one of those moths that people try to get out of the house.
03Lucky03:
What do you do?
As in for work, not fun.
I can’t let her realize that I already know about her dreams of baking.
LittleDoll:
I’m trying to start a cupcake business, and it’s proving difficult.
03Lucky03:
Why? Doesn’t everyone love cupcakes?
LittleDoll:
I think starting in any industry can be kinda difficult and soul-destroying.
03Lucky03:
Maybe I’d understand if I had my own business.
And a soul.
LittleDoll:
I’m guessing that’s a joke?
03Lucky03:
Well, yeah. Everyone has a soul, but some belong in hell.
On a serious note, this place has more mellow days on Wednesdays.
They host charity nights for local causes.
It’s snack-heavy. I think cupcakes would be a good fit.
I could bring it up with my boss if you could cater to two hundred people.
Because you know each one will want at least two cupcakes. If they’re actually good.
Three little dots appearing and disappearing alert me to her typing. I glance around the bar, hunting for any customers heading this way.
Many drinks are still full, giving me more time to talk.
LittleDoll:
Okay, so the one thing I can do is make cupcakes.
03Lucky03:
I like the confidence. Shall I put a word in?
LittleDoll:
You’d do that?
Without a catch?
03Lucky03:
Why not?
LittleDoll:
People don’t do much for nothing these days.
What would you want in return?
03Lucky03:
Oh, you mean something to sweeten the deal for me?
LittleDoll:
Is this where you get all cringey with sex talk like everyone else on this app?
03Lucky03:
I was just gonna ask if a cupcake is an acceptable answer. :P
LittleDoll:
It would be earned.
LittleDoll:
And an honor.
I’d really appreciate the good word.
03Lucky03:
Consider it done.
We have a pretty big event next week.
I’ll see what I can do.
But you might have to drag yourself out and evolve from your moth stage.
LittleDoll:
Maybe. Maybe I’ll just see if a friend can drop them off.
03Lucky03:
Think about it.