Then the door clicked shut, and he was gone.
Present day
The click of the door snapped me back to the present. Doll stood in front of me, her eyes wide and full of fear. I saw it. I understood it. I just didn’t care. Something inside me always twisted toward the things I wasn’t meant to have, and she was one of them. A want that shouldn’t exist. Except she wasn’t a thing. She was a person. A person I already knew I wanted to own.
I took a step closer.
She flinched, eyes squeezing shut, hands clamping over her mouth. Her arms were full of scars, pale lines crossing from wrist to elbow, small scratches fading into deeper cuts.
She was broken.
That should’ve made me stop.
It didn’t.
It only made her perfect.
“You are not real,” she whispered to herself, “He is not real, Chiara.” As she slid down the wall to the ground.
Chiara.
I knelt, grabbing her wrists and pulling her up, and as she opened her eyes, her knee met my balls, and I growled in pain.
I doubled over, the breath tearing out of me, a bitter laugh breaking through the pain. For a second, all I could do was stare at her — this trembling thing that had just drawn blood from the monster she thought wasn’t real.
“Cute,” I hissed, dragging in a sharp breath, straightening. “You think that’ll stop me?”
She stumbled back, palms flat against the door, eyes wide. I could see her pulse hammering in her throat as she tried to open the door.
“Stay back,” she hissed.
Brave little Doll.
A laugh slid from my throat. She amused me.
“That tone,” I murmured. “Say it again. I like it when you pretend you still have teeth.”
“So you would hit a woman? How pathetic.” She pushed the words out, trying to stand her ground, even though she trembled in front of me.
“No.” I smiled, letting the corners of my mouth curl while my eyes darkened. “I would have pulled them out while you slept.”
Her breath hitched. She started to shake, her fingers slipping behind her for the handle. The door opened with a soft click, and she turned around and started to run.
I didn’t chase her right away. I listened to her frantic steps pounding down the stairs, then stopping somewhere below. Andwhen I could no longer hear them, I made my way down.
“Oh, Doll,” I called, “come out.”
The kitchen light flickered as I stepped inside. She crouched behind the counter, her palms pressed to her face. Poor thing didn’t realize her reflection shone clear as day in the oven door.
I sighed and rolled my eyes, taking one careful step closer.
“Let’s not make this boring,” I said, my fingers brushing the counter’s edge.
She sprang up. The knife flashed, slicing into my hand before I could react.
“Fuck,” I hissed, yanking the blade from my hand. Blood welled and dripped onto the tile. I met her wide eyes and smiled. “Just a scratch.”
But as she turned, she stumbled on a chair and fell to the floor. She crawled back on her shaky hands while I walked toward her slowly, my blood dripping onto the tiles. When she reached the wall, I knelt and pressed the knife to her pretty little face, and said,“Do it again and I will use my blood as lube to fuck you.”
