“Good boy. Now, follow me.”
I do as I’m told, trailing him until I reach the second floor. The shiny wood below my wet socks is gleaming and causes me to slide, hurting my knee again. I almost whimper, but force my lips to stay closed.
His bedroom carpet, old and worn and filthy, is both a welcome relief and something I fear as I reach the room.
I freeze in the doorway.
“Don’t worry about getting that dirty.” He points to the carpet. “It’s being changed after Christmas.”
So, Christmas is soon.
“When is Christmas?”
“In five days.” He disappears into another room, leaving me surrounded by dark furniture. The sound of water tells me it’s his bathroom, and I follow him into it. All the while, the hairs on the back of my neck rise and tell me I shouldn’t.
“Get out of those clothes and put them in that basket over there.” I keep my pants on, not wanting to undress in front of him.
I feel like he sneers over it, but I can’t see his face. His bathroom lights are blinding, and I need to rub my eyes again.
My hands move from my face, and he’s right in front of me. I jump back, not getting far because his fingers loop into my belt holes, and he tugs at my pants. The weight I’ve lost means they land on the floor, taking my boxer shorts with them.
I don’t even dare look down at the underwear I’ve worn for almost a year or my new bruises down there. I keep my gazeon Colin, our stares meeting. He’s the first to look away, those bulging eyes dropping to where my hands move to cover myself.
“Did I hurt you earlier?” His dark eyes look sinister, the diamonds around them blacker than ever.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine, though, is it? Grown-ups aren’t meant to hurt children.”
“No, I know, but things happen.”
Things had happened before with Dad, and it left me with a permanent limp and the inability to achieve my dreams.
I swallow down the memory of me demanding to go back to Ireland outside the old apartment. Of the shove Dad gave me that had me tripping off the sidewalk, and the snap and crack of two separate bones that ring in my ears.
“Oh, has someone hurt you before?”
“It was an accident.”
“Yeah. Earlier was, too.” A big smile appears on his red lips.
A fear of clowns isn’t something I claimed before, but the hairs on the back of my neck still stand tall.
“What do Mommy and Daddy usually do when these kinds of accidents happen?”
“He apologized. He took me to the hospital. Mom was caring. She always kisses us to make us feel better.”
“Oh, really?” A new look appears in his eyes.
I step backward again, stepping away from my clothes.
“I don’t need that from you,” I tell him, stepping backward until I hit the wall.
He closes in on me, and a feeling of claustrophobia washes over me.
I need to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.
“Dollie.”
