Shuffling out of my soaking hoodie, I spin us away from the gawking creeps standing in Butterflies’ doorway, eager to catch a glance at her.
Taking one hand at a time, I place them into my hoodie, giving her something to wear that will hide her without the worry of her ripped dress revealing anything.
Still, I don’t dare let my eyes drop, even as my knuckles graze her skin, pulling down the hem.
Her gaze stalls on my throat as my Adam’s apple bobs, and I hope she can’t tell how she affects me.
“I’m dirty.” Her words echo in my head as I shake it.
I don’t even think of the germs. They don’t matter. Only she matters.
Letting my fingers wander around her body, they spread on her back and pull her against me. My hand weaves over her curls and settles in her hair.
I got you.
Her delicate, broken voice cracks through the sobs that wrack even my body.
“They hurt me. I went to the wrong place, and they hurt me for nothing.”
My blood runs cold.
My worst fears play out in my head. Those men still stand in the doorway, their eyes on me and my arms locked around Dollie.
All I can see is them on her, pushing her against a dirty bathroom wall, their hands between her legs, their chapped lips forcing kisses she didn’t want—a queue of those creeps waiting for a turn with her.
A wave of sickness crashes in my stomach.
Keeping our bodies close, I make enough room to tilt her chin up for her to see my words. Switching my hand from her face to mine, I touch my thumb to my chin and move my index fingers twice, asking who.
My stomach rumbles over the possibility that it was those freaks, and my thoughts are some kind of twisted premonition of the events that will put me back in prison.
It would only take her confirming it for me to drag them out here and drown them in a puddle.
That can’t have happened to Dollie.
Not my Dollie.
It didn’t.
She breathes out, “Two women in red dresses.”
Women did this… how fucking cruel.
“They said their guys were looking at me. I went to the bathroom to text Shane, and he didn’t answer. I tried to get a ride from someone else, Annabelle, Nyx, but no one was answering.” She stumbles over her words. “And while I was in there, they came in and hurt me for nothing. I didn’t do anything, and they ripped my dress and dragged me around the floor. They kicked me in the stomach and…” she trails off.
She has problems with her stomach.
“They called me weak, meek, and worthless.”
You’re none of those things.Those skanks would never survive what you have,I mouth.
I pull her in a little tighter before twirling her around and pointing to my car.
“Where are you going?”
I tap my wrist and move my hand, testing her memory on sign language, as I’m using the language Mom insisted we learn more and more.
“Don’t get into trouble for me.” Her eyes roll closed, and that’s when I push her forward, encouraging her to take the first step.
