Pity pulls my eyes toward her. “Where?”
“In my tummy. In my lower back. Inside my?—”
The basement door yanks open, cutting her off as it hits the frame with a bang.
“Don’t let him come down here. I’m not done.”
Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh.
Just as my pants were starting to dry, the dirty water that makes me cringe splashes up to my thighs as I move to the stairs. Just as quickly, Colin, the clown, moves down them.
“We didn’t do anything.”
“I heard noises. Misbehaving children. You know that’s not allowed. Especially at this hour in the morning.”
“We don’t know when it’s morning.”
There’s no clock to watch time tick away, and the only window, sitting high at the far side of the room, is bolted shut and so dirty there’s no way of seeing through it.
“That isn’t good enough.” Colin’s eyes stray to Dollie, standing in front of the bucket.
Tears stream from her eyes as she bends, washing her grubby legs in water that will make little difference.
Chuckles steps around me and grabs her with a bruising grip on the top of her arm.
I know the exact shade of purple her bruise will be tomorrow. It’ll match mine. It pangs on my bicep as Chuckles squeezes her arm between his fingers until she squirms.
The urge to help her shoves me forward.
If you take another step forward, your parents won’t love you anymore,my cruel mind taunts me with something that doesn’t really make sense.
I saw Mom crying on the news. I saw Dad asking for information on Dollie and me. They’d want me to help her.
That was weeks ago.
Maybe months ago.
I lift my leg to walk, but those same words, repeated in a voice that sounds something like mine, sound again.
“Why were you crying, Dollancie? It makes me anxious.”
She says nothing, her eyes on me.
He nudges her, and she falls over.
Frozen to the spot in the cold water, I watch her lips tremble as she tries to stand and answer Colin.
“I’m hurting. I have Ulsative Coletus.”
I don’t really understand the condition that controls Dollie’s life, but I’ve heard Mom and Dad talk about it at home, and I’m pretty sure she’s pronouncing it wrong.
“And?”
“And it hurts my tummy.” She’s holding her tummy, and it’s rounder than usual.
“Oh,” Colin drags out the word. “Does it hurt like this?”
Before I can fight away the thoughts of my parents wishing I’m never found, my legs move, but not fast enough to jump into the path between Dollie and Chuckles’ fist. He lifts her into the air with one hand and the other balls and punches into her tiny stomach.
