She nodded and shrugged at the same time. “That’s what he told me. He said we were meeting Mom for dinner. But he didn’t take me to the restaurant.”
My hand squeezes hers.
“Dolly.” It’s a command for her attention, and she obeys without hesitation. “Did your dad bring you to the house?”
She shook her head. “No. A factory or warehouse or something. There were a lot of buildings, but they were empty.”
The same place they snagged me and Cathy.
“Do you remember what they said? Did you see them?”
She raises her eyes to meet mine. “Do you hate me?”
The question catches me off guard. Hate her?
“Why would you think that?” I demand, and it’s not forced. How could she think something like that?
“If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have been taken either. Dad wouldn’t have brought me there if I hadn’t been so much trouble, and you wouldn’t have come looking for me. You wouldn’t have been hurt if I hadn’t been so horrible.” Her steady tone matches the sincerity in her eyes. She truly believes all this is her doing because she didn’t let her father rape and molested her at will. My chest clenches, but I steel my gaze. I won’t let my anger make her afraid of me.
“You did nothing wrong. Everything he did to you—” I cut off my words before my anger makes me scream them. “Everything he did to you was wrong.” My throat burns with the need to cry out in rage. Her father doesn’t deserve another breath.
“If I had maybe—”
I press my finger to her lips. “No. This is his fault. This is the fault of the fuckers who bled out in that playroom. Not yours.” I keep a hard tone. She needs to believe me. She needs to understand, because once we finish with her father, I can’t take the chance of her blaming herself for his demise either.
“I didn’t want you to be angry,” she says behind my finger. I drop it so she can talk again. I have more questions.
“Did your mother know all the things he did to you?” I ask, already knowing by the twist of nausea inside I have the answer.
“She said if I was good, he wouldn’t do it so much. That he’d leave me alone if I would just listen. But I tried that. I tried.” Her voice lowers. “I did everything he said. I stopped fighting so much. But he just kept doing it. He kept coming into my room. He kept doing all of it! He wouldn’t even let me live in a dorm because he wanted me close!” she shouts, smacking her fists into her hips.
I capture her wrists and hold them until the anger boiling beneath the surface calms. “What happened the night he brought you to the warehouse?” I ask, releasing her.
She brings her gaze to meet mine. The color has returned to her cheeks, life is vibrant in her eyes. “There were three men. Beardman, Bossman, and someone else. My father sold me to them. They promised me I’d get to go home once I made back the money. But that was only to get me to cooperate and go to the house. Once I was there, once I was locked up, the promises stopped.”
“Your father might know who the third man is.” I move to my feet and pull her to my chest, taking all her hurt and anger into myself. “We’ll find out.”
Her arms snake around my waist.
“He’s a bad man,” she says after several long moments of silence.
“Yes, he is.”
“Do I have to see him again?”
“You do.” I kiss her forehead. “But it will be the last time. I swear it.”
She hugs me tighter. “I know.”
The afternoon is for planning, but tonight, before I tuck her into bed beside me, she will be free of one more nightmare.
Seventeen
DOLLY
My house is the last property on the street, sitting higher up than the other houses on a hill. I used to think Daddy liked it that way because he could keep a close watch on me when I was out playing with my friends. He always knew where I was and that I was safe. But I was wrong—just like with so many other things. He liked it because he could look down on the rest of our neighbors.
They weren’t as good or skilled as he was. Daddy’s a doctor. Sometimes I think he confuses himself with God.
Sometimes I do too. They’ve both betrayed me.
“Almost there.” Ken turns off the truck headlights and accelerates up the incline.
It’s late. Porch lights have gone off for the night, and the houses are dark as we roll past them.
A lifetime ago, these homes were safe places. Play dates and study groups with my friends after school. Just like any other kid.
Then Daddy said I was too old for playdates. He said I’d be better off studying on my own.
“What if he doesn’t know anything?” I ask.
Ken raises his chin. “He knows.”
“I’m so sorry.” I know he doesn’t blame me, but I do. My father was no saint, and I should have heeded my own internal warnings. I shouldn’t have fallen for his sweet temper and saccharine smile. I should have questioned why Mom wasn’t with us. Why would she meet us at the restaurant?
It didn’t occur to me my father would sell me—would hand me over to monsters worse than him. And it should have.
Ken reaches over the center console and squeezes my hand. “I don’t want to hear you say that again. The only people to blame here are your mother and father.” He’s being bossy again, and it settles my nerves.
When I see him, will my insides quake like they did every time he came into my room with his camera in hand? Or will I be able to do what I need to?
Ken will be with me, I tell myself. He’ll keep me strong.
“There.” I point to the driveway. It’s hard to see at night without any lights, but Ken finds it easily and rolls the truck to a stop.
A light shines in the upstairs bedroom. My room.
I press my hand flat against my stomach as a sharp twist of nausea hits me. Why is my light on?
“Does your father have any weapons inside?” Ken pulls my attention. “Guns or anything like that?”
I swallow back the bile clawing its way up my throat.
“Uh…yeah.” I blink a few times, clearing my mind of the lingering fear. “In his office. He has a gun case. I wasn’t allowed in there, but I think he has a rifle, maybe a handgun. I’m not sure.” I’m failing Ken again.
He cups my chin, pulling my eyes to meet his. Harsh and dark, I lose myself in him for a moment. “We’ll find them. It’s late, your parents are probably asleep,”
“My bedroom light is on,” I whisper. Daddy can’t hear me, but I learned not to take chances.
Ken runs his thumb over my jaw. “If you want to stay here—”
“No. I can do this. I want to. He…he can’t own this part of me anymore.” I suck in a breath, hoping it will settle the nerves wreaking havoc on my body. It could all go wrong. I could end up right where I was.
Ken studies me for a long moment. Maybe he’s losing his confidence in me, seeing me for the weakling I am.
“He doesn’t own you anymore,” he says firmly, then kisses me hard, taking me off guard before I melt into him. “Follow me, do not leave my side. Understood, Dolly?”
I nod, my forehead bumping his. “I understand, Ken.”
He gives me a final peck on the cheek and pops his door open. I shuffle out my side and press the door closed, trying not to make any sound.
Following behind Ken, we get to the front door.
“There’s an alarm key,” I whisper. “It could have changed. Daddy changes it sometimes.”
Ken’s jaw tightens. “We’ll have to risk it. If the alarm goes off, we’ll just have to move faster.” He pulls out the little picks he bought from the hardware store and works the lock until the knob turns and the door springs open. We hurry inside, and I navigate to the keypad, punching in the last code I remember.
Incorrect.
My breath hitches. I only have two more tries before the company calls Daddy.
Maybe I typed it wrong. Slowing my movements, I try ag
ain.
Incorrect.
Fuck!
Ken’s quiet behind me. I don’t want to disappoint him. Think. Think. Think!
“One more try, Dolly,” he whispers in my ear. He’s already come up with a plan B if I fail, yet the pressure doesn’t ease in my chest.
I take a few breaths. If Daddy changed it…what…
Four digits. My finger hovers over the first number. No choice but to try. I press my guess in.
Alarm off.
My body sags with relief. My birth year. The old me would have seen it as a sign of his love for me. Now I know it’s just another way he uses me.
“Where’s his office?” Ken asks, grasping my hand. I lead him down the hall. We take quiet steps, pausing to listen for any noise upstairs. Nothing.
Once inside Daddy’s office, I let go of his hand and press myself against the wall. I don’t belong in here. The dark mahogany paneling on the walls signals his territory. His room. Not mine. He can come into mine, but I’m never to enter his.
Ken uses his pick to get the gun case open. There’s more than I remembered. He tucks two handguns into his waist and pulls a rifle from the wall. He grabs bullets and goes about loading everything.
“Do you know how to use this?” he asks, holding up a handgun.
Daddy never let me look at them, much less touch one. “Point and shoot?” I ask.
Ken chuckles softly. “There’s more to it than that. But we don’t have time. If you need to, point and shoot.” He hands me the gun.
It’s heavier than it looks. Looking it over, I find a little switch that must be the safety and flip it off.
“No, keep it on for now.” Ken puts the safety back on for me. “Just hold onto it.” Seeing as I’ve never held a gun, it’s probably best to listen to him. Shooting myself accidentally would ruin our plans.
He cradles my hand in his and leads me from the office to the kitchen. I stay in the doorway, keeping an ear out for movement. My mother’s a light sleeper. If she hears us, she’ll get up to investigate. Drawers open and close. When Ken reappears, he’s holding a butcher knife and a cleaver.
He hands me the butcher knife and walks past me, and I follow, creeping behind him up the stairs to the second floor.
The light from my bedroom fills the hallway as we approach the top step.
“Fuck yeah.” An erotic moan escapes the same room, and we both still. Ken looks back at me, checking my expression, then taps his lips, signaling for me to keep quiet. My insides are shaking too hard to form sounds anyway.
“Daddy, no.”
I freeze. That’s my voice. Ken pulls me against the wall with him. My fingers tighten around the handle of the knife, the gun in my other hand shakes in my grip.
“Fuck yeah. Like that, Susanna. Just like that.”
Mom, I mouth to Ken.
My lungs pump short breaths. Sweat covers my brow.
Ken’s eyes narrow. He’s heard enough.
He shoves off the wall and bursts through the open door to my old bedroom. I follow. I’m not sure of much at the moment, but I know for certain I need to be with Ken.
My mother is naked and on her knees. Her hair is pulled into pigtails, her mouth full of my father’s cock. The television on my desk plays an episode of my past I want wiped from my memory. I’m in the same position on the screen.
“What the fuck!” My dad sees us first and stumbles back a step. Mom falls forward to her hands, twisting her head to see who’s intruded on their playtime.
“Gabby?” Mom’s eyes widen. “How are you here?”
“Mom…” Words are lost somewhere between my brain and my tongue. I can’t seem to keep my eyes from wandering to the screen.
Ken steps forward, blocking my view.
“Who the fuck are you?” Daddy demands, straightening to his full height, pushing his thick-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Gabby, come here.” He points to the floor next to him.
I step closer to Ken’s back, drawing in his power. He’s not going to let anything happen to me.
“This is what you do now that you sold her?” Ken moves toward my mother, aiming his knife at her. “You get dressed up like your daughter so he can relive raping her?”
Mom scrambles to her feet. “No…”
Ken points to the television. “No? Really?” He marches over to the desk, and in one powerful swing, brings the cleaver down into the television, cracking the flat screen. Another hit, and the picture goes blue. He takes aim at the CD player the video is playing from and destroys it in one hit.
“Gabby! Tell him to stop,” Mom urges me, panic and anger mingling together in her demand. “Tell him that’s not what happened.”
I turn my head from the mess Ken made to my parents, huddling close together, naked and flaccid. Daddy has lost weight. His skin sags around his middle. Or has it always? The big man I remember, the strong, powerful father looming over my bed as I slept, isn’t the same man in my bedroom now. Maybe he never has been. Maybe it was my fear making him larger than life.
“You didn’t care.” I wiggle my toes inside the sneakers. “You let him so you could watch later?” I scream, making her jump.
“Gabby—”
“Don’t call me that!” I yell at Daddy, covering my ears with my hands. The gun slips from my grasp.
Daddy shoves Mom to the ground and lunges for it, but Ken is quicker, stronger, smarter. He’s already anticipated my father’s moves and he’s ready.
A shot rings out, echoing in my ears. Daddy falls at my feet, blood spraying from his left wrist.
I can’t hear Mom’s yelling over Daddy’s wails. Stepping over Daddy, I go to Mom.
“What are you saying?” I ask, cupping my ear and tilting my head. “I can’t hear you.” The ringing bounces between her words.
“Don’t hurt him,” she yells in my face.
Don’t hurt him. Had she ever spoken those three little words in my defense? Had she ever once begged him not to hurt me when he was angry—or worse, when he wasn’t? Did she fall to bended knee, pleading for mercy for her only child, her young daughter?
My fist lands in the middle of her face, and blood spurts out her nose, splattering my sweatshirt.
“Gabby!” Daddy shouts from where he lays on the floor, holding his wrist. Ken stands over his huddled form, the gun pointed at him.
“Lie on the bed.” Ken points to my mother. She’s holding her nose and shaking her head. “Do it now or I’m going to shoot him again,” Ken threatens, but I know he won’t. Daddy knows something, and until he tells us, he’ll live.
But Mom doesn’t know that.
“Okay…okay…” She climbs onto my bed, still covered in the same soft pink comforter and white pillows as when I lived here. It’s only been months, but the memories feel like a lifetime ago.
Ken points to Daddy’s belt lying on the floor. “Use that to bind her wrists,” he instructs me. It isn’t hard. Daddy did it to me a lot of times. I wrap the leather around her wrists, then through the buckle, until she’s strapped tight and can’t get her hands out. She doesn’t try to talk to me, but her eyes are begging, pleading for a mercy I was never granted.
Ken kicks Daddy until he’s on his back, then crouches near his face, dangling the cleaver over his nose.
“You sent a video to those fat fucks you sold her to. An audition? Or maybe you were selling the sessions?” Ken presses the edge of the knife to Daddy’s nose.
“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Daddy answers in a panic.
“Who did you send the videos to?” Ken’s voice hardens. He’s not going to stop until Daddy tells him. Ken rolls his head. “I don’t have time for this bullshit. Who did you send the videos to and who took money for your daughter?” Ken slides the tip of the cleaver down Daddy’s nose to his cheek. Dark red blood drips from the deep cut.
“Stop!” Daddy brings his hands up to his face, but Ken pushes them away, not deterred.
“Did you ever once stop when she
begged you to?” Ken presses a knee into Daddy’s chest.
“Ow. No...I’m sorry.” Daddy coughs as the air gets harder to take in. He’s not really sorry. I know that. It’s the pain making him talk. I said a lot of things I didn’t mean when he was hurting me…when Bossman hurt me.
“Who?” Ken digs his knee in harder.
“You’re hurting him!” Mom cries from behind me on the bed.
“Shut up.” I smack her again.
“Stop this! You stop it right now!” she screams up at me. I drop my knife to the floor and reach for her throat. I’ll make her shut up.
“Dolly! No,” Ken yells, and I still. “We’ll keep her quiet another way. Get something to gag her with. A towel or something,” Ken orders, twisting his knee into Daddy and making him groan more.
I rush to my dresser and find my leggings. I need to grab more of them before we leave the house.
“Good.” Ken nods his approval. I bring them over to Mom. Panic sets in, and her eyes widen as I approach her.
“One second, Dolly,” Ken stops me as I get ready to gag my mother with my leggings.
“Don’t! Please.” Mom begs for my father as Ken readjusts his stance again. He lifts Daddy’s soft, small cock, and with a swish through the air, the cleaver makes a clean cut.
Daddy wails at the loss and pain, and Ken grips the fleshy muscle in his hand, bringing it to the bed. Daddy thrashes around on the floor, clutching at his crotch where blood spurts onto the floor. Heavy, tormented sobs escape him. He brings his knees upward, as though rolling into a ball will help with the pain.
Ken’s not distracted by the noises Daddy’s making.
“You want this so badly. Here.” Ken squeezes my mother’s cheeks until she opens her mouth and shoves it inside. He takes the leggings from me and maneuvers them around her mouth before she can push it out with her tongue. “Choke on his cock some more.” He ties the leggings behind her head and points a finger directly at her nose. “You should have been a good mother. You should have protected her and helped her. Instead, you fed the monster you married with—Your. Own. Daughter.” He grips her hair and drags her head back, exposing her neck.
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