DOLLY

by Stone, Measha

  “You have to keep your mind sharp,” he urges me, but I’m tired again. The nothingness of the days exhausts me.

  “Let’s play a game instead,” I suggest. “Twenty questions.”

  He sighs. I’ve disappointed him. Not something new for me.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No. It’s okay,” he says, but the exasperation is in his tone. “Tell me about something else—” He cuts off as the door creaks open.

  “You two aren’t getting any ideas about being friends, are you?” Beardman clinks his keys against the bars of my cell door. “’Cause that’d be a bad idea.”

  I peek through my arms at Ken. He’s backed away from the door, his hands pumping at his sides. He won’t talk to Beardman unless he has to, but he’s getting ready to fight him if he opens the door. They make it worse if we fight, doesn’t he understand that?

  “This is for you.” Beardman opens my door and drops a garment bag on the floor. “Put that on. There’s a special request upstairs waiting on you.”

  My throat clenches, but I scoot off my cot and pick up the bag. Unzipping the front of it, layers of lace fall forward. Another dress with all the frills.

  “Shit.” Beardman digs through his pocket and pulls out a cell phone. My eyes lock on the phone. Maybe Ken’s right. Maybe we can find a way out of here. Beardman jerks his hand at me when he catches me watching him while he’s talking.

  I pull the dress out of the bag and lay it on the cot. It’s not fair that Ken doesn’t get one and I do, but he already said it wouldn’t matter any to him. He’d rather I had it.

  “Get dressed, and don’t get it fucking dirty. I’ll be right back.” Beardman slams my cell door shut and locks it before he scuttles back to the stairwell, muttering curses under his breath.

  “What did he mean special request?” Ken asks me, coming forward in his cell again.

  I work the buttons on my dress open and slip it over my head. I’ve never had such little privacy before. Even on the bad days, I wasn’t so exposed. But now, everyone has seen me at all stages of dress, and never with my consent.

  “What did he mean?” Ken asks me again because I didn’t answer. It’s going to make him tense if I explain what’ll happen when I go upstairs. And I don’t want to worry him. I’ve already disappointed him by not telling him what he wanted to know.

  “A special request is when a bidder gets to be in the room with me.” I drag the new dress over my head. The tooling is rough against my tender skin as it glides over my ass, but I’m sure it won’t be on long once I get upstairs.

  Ken’s knuckles go white from gripping the bars. “They’re just there,” he prompts.

  I pull out the ribbon from my right pigtail and palm it while I work my messy hair into a braid. Without a brush, I can’t make it as neat as they’ll want, but if I braid it tight, maybe I won’t have to bend over the punishment bench before we start.

  “Do they touch you? Hurt you?” He pushes for answers he doesn’t want but can’t help but ask.

  I raise my gaze to meet his and nod. Talking about what they do doesn’t make it better or take away the damage.

  “This is the way it is here.” I bring the satin blue sash around my middle and tie it into a perfect bow at my side.

  “It doesn’t have to be. You have to believe we’ll get out of here. I will get us out of here.” Ken’s said this before, and I know he believes it. But Bossman told me at the beginning good girls get to go home, and no matter what I did, he didn’t let me go. He’s never going to let me go. Now, Ken’s stuck here too.

  “Maybe we did something so awful, this is our punishment for it,” I say, smoothing the skirt of my dress down. They didn’t bring me stockings or shoes this time. The stockings are hard to get on, but they help keep the tooling from scratching my legs. “Maybe it would be better if I didn’t listen to them and made them kill me.”

  “No. Don’t say that.” His voice hardens, but it doesn’t make my insides shake like when Bossman yells at me. Ken doesn’t want things from me. He still holds onto hope this is just a phase in our lives.

  But he doesn’t know everything.

  “Dolly, look at me. Look at me right now.” He’s back to being bossy.

  He’s already upset, and I don’t want to make things worse, so I meet his gaze.

  “You can’t give up hope, okay? I know it seems hopeless, but it’s not. Remember how I told you about my job? They are going to find us. We will get out of here.”

  I smile. Because he seems to want a reaction, and he likes it when I smile.

  “Promise me you won’t give up. You won’t leave me here all alone.” The determination in his voice warms me from the inside. It’s not angry and cold like the others. And even when he’s being bossy and making me eat cold hot dogs, I can sense the good in him. He’s not evil like the others.

  A promise is a vow, and vows can never be broken.

  The door opens again. Beardman’s keys jangle.

  “Dolly.” Ken’s eyes are fixated on me, his jaw tense.

  “I promise.” I nod quickly as Beardman comes into view.

  “Good girl, all dressed up for your date.” The key grates on my senses as he slips it into the lock. A high-pitched screech of the hinges grinding together hurt my ears, but I keep my expression schooled. No emotions. Dolly’s don’t have emotions.

  And no matter what Ken says, that’s what I am now.

  I’m just a dolly.

  Ten

  KENDOLL

  Dolly’s been asleep too long.

  Beardman brought her back unconscious and battle worn. What if they gave her too much of whatever drug they keep forcing into us? It’s going to take her half a day to get her memories back, maybe longer. I need her mind sharp if we’re going to find a way out of here.

  I’m staring at her like an obsessed fool, because I am. This shouldn’t be happening to her. She should be safe by now. Cathy should be home with her daughter.

  I rub my temples. Who the hell knows what they did with Cathy after they knocked me out. Was her body found?

  Did Pierce ever show up? Would they keep looking if they found nothing?

  I have to shelve the questions. My stomach twists into knots. I don’t have any answers, and I can’t do a fucking thing about any of this locked in this goddamn cell.

  I grip the bars again and try to rouse Dolly.

  “Dolly, Dolly, you awake?”

  She groans, rolling to her back. They took the dress from her this time, leaving her naked on the concrete floor. Dark purple welts cross her ass and thighs. Thin raised welts cross over her back. The fuckers broke skin. She needs to keep it clean or she could get an infection. And down here, I doubt these assholes will bother helping if she does.

  Flat on her back, angry slashes covering her breasts and torso come into view.

  My teeth grind as I take in all of the bruising and cuts over her body. They used her as a fucking piñata.

  “Go slow. It’s going to hurt for a while.” These fucking bars! If I could get in her cell, I could help her. She turns her face toward me. Her lips are swollen and red. They may have left her ass and pussy alone, but there’s a third hole for them to abuse.

  “Fuck, baby,” I groan, sinking down to my knees. “They left a bucket of water. You have to clean yourself up. I know it hurts, take your time, but you have to clean up.”

  “I’m so sleepy,” she whispers, curling her knees up to her chest. Her eyes close.

  “Dolly, you have to wake up now. Drink some water, then clean yourself with it.”

  She nods and pushes herself up. Her wince of pain tears me in two.

  “It’s cold,” she says, dipping her hand in the bucket.

  “I know, but you have to clean up.” If I was there, I’d do it for her. I’d lay her in my lap and tend to each welt. But I’m stuck over here, helpless.

  She cups her hands and drinks several gulps of the water before she starts washing herself. Every wh
imper cuts into my heart.

  “That’s good. Almost done. Good girl,” I say, and immediately stiffen. It’s what they tell her when she obeys. Fuck.

  Her eyes flicker to me, her lips gently tugging into a smile.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, pressing my forehead to the chilled bars. I’m not helping.

  “It’s nice when you say it,” she tells me as she finishes washing her legs. She's dripping and there are no towels or material to dry off with.

  “How’s your head?” I force my eyes off her body. Under the cuts and bruises is her shapely figure. The last thing I need is for my body to appreciate her too much.

  “Not as foggy as before. I’m just sleepy.” The small springs in the cot squeak when she sits on it. “I want to take another nap.”

  “Okay, go ahead. They should bring food soon.” My stomach is empty and crying for relief. It’s possible it’s my hope talking and not my reasoning.

  She lies down on the cot, draping her arm over her eyes. I watch as her chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm.

  “Ken,” she murmurs. She won’t call me by my real name, insisting she stick to their rules—I can’t call her Abigail, and she can’t call me Brian. The first time I said her name—her real name—she cried, scared they were going to come down and hurt her. I haven’t tried since.

  “Yeah?” I ease myself to the floor, crossing my legs and folding my arms over my chest. Moving around will keep me warm, but I’m getting tired.

  “I kept my promise,” she whispers.

  I find a glimmer of joy in her statement.

  “I knew you would.”

  “I won’t leave you here alone,” she says. “A promise is a vow.”

  “That’s right.” I close my eyes, listening to the soft melody of her breathing. She’s safe now—for a little while at least. I can’t touch her, but I can feel her.

  “Ken?” Her voice is small.

  “Yeah?” I keep my eyes closed. A nap sounds like a good idea.

  “I want to hurt them,” she confesses. “I want to hurt them for what they did to me—what they do to you.” The cot creaks, and I open my eyes to see her.

  She’s on her stomach, her eyes wide and clear as she stares at me through the bars. “I want them to die.”

  I grin.

  “I promise you, Dolly, they will.” Before I drag in my last breath, Bossman and Beardman will burn in hell.

  Eleven

  DOLLY

  I can never tell if it’s morning or night when I wake up. My sleep patterns are all off. Did I sleep for an hour or an entire day? I never know.

  When I first arrived, I tried to track the time. It was useless. Without the sunlight helping me, I had no real clues. Time doesn’t move at the same speed when you’re locked in a windowless void. A year could have passed already, and I wouldn’t know. I could have missed my birthday.

  It wouldn’t have been anything elaborate. A quick dinner with Mom and Dad. But it would have been something. At least I would have known it was my birthday. I would have proof I truly exist.

  “Dolly?” Ken breaks the silence.

  I roll over in my cot to look at him. There’s not much light since the bulbs in our cells have blown out. The single bulb in the hallway casts dark shadows, but I can at least make out his features.

  “I’m awake.” I’ve been sleeping off and on since Beardman dumped me back in my cell after my special request session. My back doesn’t ache anymore, and the tenderness in my thighs is better than the last time I woke up.

  “There’s a box in your cell,” he points through the bars.

  A large white box just inside the door.

  “When did they bring that?” I ask, rolling off the cot. The cold floor soaks into my feet as I make my way to the door.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t hear anything.” He clears his throat and sniffs. “I must have been sleeping pretty deep.”

  Ken doesn’t sleep much, at least not when I’m awake. Maybe the cold has gotten to him and he’s getting sick. They won’t care. They’ll make him play their games anyway.

  “What’s in it?” he asks as I open the box.

  It’s filled with white tissue paper that I remove and put on the floor next to the box. “Another dress with slippers,” I pull it out. “Oh.” I drop the outfit and move another layer of tissue paper. “There are bottles of water and muffins in here.” I grab a bottle and wave it in the air.

  “Bottles?”

  “Yeah…uh, four. And four muffins.” I take a bottle to the bars. “Here, you take one.”

  “Wait.” He puts his hand out. “Check the rest. Make sure there isn’t a note or something.”

  He’s always thinking of things like that, the little stuff. I remove the water and prepackaged muffins, and there, at the bottom, a piece of paper is taped to the inside of the box.

  “You’re right,” I grin at him, then pluck up the note and read it to him. “Eat and drink. You’ll need your energy. There’s an extra special request tonight. Be sure to share with your friend. He’ll need it too.”

  Ken frowns as I crouch at the bars.

  “Both of us?” he asks, but answering him is pointless. He’s thinking again, finding all the angles. I’ve never been good at detecting the bad side of things. Even when it was right in front of me, betrayal staring me right in the face, I still mistook it for love.

  “You have to catch it. I can’t aim between your bars.” I stand, poised to toss the first muffin toward him. He needs the food as much as I do. My stomach stopped making all those nasty grumbling sounds a while ago, but his hasn’t. He’s lost weight too. He tries to fight it by doing push-ups and other exercises, but his stomach is getting flatter.

  “Okay, just toss it as close to my door as you can and roll the bottles.” He crouches behind the bars, his cock hanging between his legs, and it takes me back for a second. I’ve seen his cock since they keep him naked, but I never really looked at it before. Not like I am now. The Beardman has made me kiss his, lick it and suck it, and I thought I’d never want to see another one again in my life. But Ken’s is different. It’s not hard or threatening. I don’t think he’d ever use it against me, ever make me feel anything other than safe with him. Because even though he’s locked up in that cell, unable to touch me, I can feel all his strength. I pull from it every day.

  I’m a selfish dolly.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing. Here.” I toss the first muffin, and he reaches out, catching it before it hits the ground. He misses the second and has to reach further out to grab the corner of the wrapper and pull it close enough to pick up.

  The bottles roll to the side, but he gets them both and lines them up in his cell beside the muffins. I tear into a package.

  “Blueberry.” I smile. I love blueberry. It’s such a small thing, but it makes the whole muffin better.

  I bite into it as Ken turns his around in his hand, the plastic crinkling.

  “It tastes good.” I pop the last bite into my mouth and have to swallow hard to get it all down. My mouth waters for the second one. They haven’t given me this much food at one time, and I’m not going to waste a single crumb.

  “I need you to listen to me now, okay?” He takes a bite of his muffin, and the expression on his face sends an electric current through me. Bliss. He’s happy.

  “Good, right?” I ask with a grin.

  “Delicious.” He takes another bite. “But you have to listen. I have an idea.” He twists the white plastic cap off the water and takes several gulps before he continues. “When Beardman comes down to take us upstairs, I’m hoping he’ll take us both at the same time. If he does, you keep your eyes on me. Do everything I tell you.”

  I was right. He has a plan.

  “If we try to fight him, they’ll make it worse.” I wasn’t smart when I first got here, but I learned.

  “If we do nothing, we’ll never get out of here.” He trains his eyes on me. “We
can’t just keep going along with them. We have to get out.”

  “He’ll hurt you—”

  “I won’t let him hurt you, I swear it. You just follow what I say, okay?” His voice is hard, demanding.

  “You’re bossier with a full stomach.” I frown.

  He laughs, and it’s the sweetest melody I’ve ever heard.

  “You haven’t seen anything yet. Now, be a good girl and do what I say, okay?” Little crinkles crease his eyes as he smiles.

  “Okay.” Getting to see him smile and hear more of his laugh is worth whatever punishment they come up with.

  I drink down the last of my second bottle of water and lean back against the cold cinderblock wall, taking a deep breath. I can’t remember the last time I felt so full.

  And sleepy.

  I rub the heels of my hands into my eyes.

  “I should get dressed.” I push up from the ground and scoop up the dress. Beardman could be down in ten minutes or three hours, but if I’m not dressed, he’ll take the prod to my ass before we start the show. And the cuts and welts from the last request have finally stopping itching.

  “Dolly? Dolly.” Ken’s voice pulls my attention away from fumbling with the sash. “Are you feeling okay?” His brow is wrinkled, and he’s lying on the ground, staring up at me. The empty bottles are lined up neatly outside his cell door, the muffin wrappers too.

  “I’m just sleepy. I’m fine,” I say as my mind swirls. I blink a few times and steady myself as best as I can to finish tying the bow

  I reach down to pick up the slippers, but my head takes another turn, and I stumble to the floor. The room spins, taking my stomach with it.

  “Ken?” I try to twist so I can see him, but the little movement sends my head into a tailspin again. “I’m going to close my eyes for a minute,” I tell him, but he doesn’t respond. “Ken?” My lids weigh down. I’m a weak dolly.

  I don’t hear if he answers before the darkness embraces me.

  Twelve