“I was looking for you,” Shane’s eyes move to her, his body and the ugly tattoo that covers his back, blocking her from my view completely.
“I told you I went to the bathroom. I used the downstairs one for more privacy.”
“Okay, well, let’s get into bed. It’s really fucking late now.”
“Sure.” Dollie’s head angles my way around Shane. “I saw your phone in the kitchen if you’re looking for it.”
I give her a nod, and nothing more, as she moves away. His hand on the small of her back as he guides her into her room.
Another smile lands on me, cruel and knowing. Shane’s. He knows my feelings for her. They’re too obvious to hide. Every time I see her, there’s this deep-rooted hunger. Every time she talks, my heart races a bit faster.
Her door clicks shut, leaving me on the other side of it with all my feelings. The happy ones step aside for misery to take center stage as the noise in my head continues to gnaw at me.
She’ll never want you now, not after tonight.
You’re no longer her brother, and you’ll never be more.
You’ll never be her person.
CHAPTER 72
Ambrose—age eighteen
The bright foyer lights strain my eyes, making me wish I’d taken the tunnels back to Dollie’s room as I head for the stairs. I’d used them no less than two minutes ago to come and select a book for us to read. After scanning each title three times and still not feeling drawn to one, I sighed and gave up.
I’ll bring Dollie down once I’m sure Mom and Dad are asleep, and I’ll let her pick.
I’ll also warn her about the rancid metallic stench that’s appeared down here. I can’t help but wonder if it’s anything to do with Dollie’s new friend, because that scrawny kid was drenched in some kinda cologne that smelled awful.
The smell worsens as I make it halfway up the stairs.
The gargoyle that I missed like it’s an extra family member greets me for the second time tonight as I approach the top. He becomes part of a squinted view when a smile scrunches up my face.
Despite the lingering issues between my parents and me, and the fact that Dollie now has Shane, it’s good to be home.
My eyes widen at the scene behind the stone figure as I reach the top. My stomach drops at the sight of red splatters staining the new carpet. I forget how soft it feels beneath my toes as the stains grow. Blood leaks out from a gash that cuts through Dad’s bed shirt and layers of his skin.
My heart contracts in my chest, racing harder than ever and squeezing painfully in my chest.
Dad!The word comes out silently.
My legs drag me forward to the blade before him. I pick it up as he tries to hold his gaping skin together. I drop it almost instantly when my senses catch up and I realize what I’m seeing is real.
My head snaps left to a gurgle in the doorway. My feet, my hammering heart, everything stops dead as I see Mom slouching against the wood, holding her throat and the flaps of skin and muscle that surround it together with skinny fingers.
NO!Another silent word.
A bloody hand leaves her throat, revealing a gaping slit that pours blood as I crouch before her.
The red stains on her ivory pajamas match the rug and her face as color drains from her complexion.
She points to the wall. The words YOU FUCKING CLOWNS stand out proudly.
“Dollancie,” she sputters blood and the word from her mouth.
My eyes widen, neck craning to see down the hall. To find any trace of the monster who did this.
Still, I’m silent as frantic trembling hands sign to Mom.Is Dollie okay?
