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That I would provide him with pretty little dolls he could play with anytime he wanted. Our biology and reproductive classes told me exactly what that meant, and nothing brought me more fear than the idea of him hurting me that way.

X removed the clothes from the doll that resembled her, while he removed the ones from his doll.

“Hold it up,” he commanded her.

She held the now naked doll delicately in her hands. I noticed them shaking ever so slightly. He gave a nod, and she separated the legs. It showed that the doll had been created with anatomical precision.

With theatrical flourish, he removed the clothing from the male doll, and it, too, had parts. He notched his head and X moved to the miniature replica of his bed and laid her doll down. He then moved to position his doll on top of hers.

“On the bed,” he spoke to X directly, and a choked sound erupted from her throat.

The sound penetrated my ears, and my eyes grew wide. She knew better than to respond in a manner other than acceptance, and he saw her emotion as rebellion. His hand shot out and grabbed her around the throat.

I watched helplessly as his knuckles turned white and her face turned red. He squeezed tighter, if that was possible. My eyes expanded in shock, and I wanted to shriek at him to leave her alone, but fear kept me frozen in place.

You would expect her to fight back and claw at him. He was, after all, stealing her breath from her body and possibly her life if he wasn’t brought under control, yet she was conditioned not to. So she didn’t.

At the tender age of twelve, I didn’t understand that her restraint was something beaten into her over years and years of torture. I watched in horror as the air left her lungs and she hung limply.

Did she long for death? Did she long to strike out at them, or had they stolen that from her as well?

Without warning, he let her go, and she sank to the floor on her knees, gasping for air. His shadow fell over her like death. He gripped her hair and drug her over to the bed as her body heaved and tried to brace for what was next.

With no regard, he threw her against the bed. “Disrobe,” he spat.

Her fingers flew to the buttons on the front of her old-fashioned dress. Her hands shook the entire time, but she did as he asked.

“We’ll show her how I like to play with my pretty little dolls. What it will be like when she is finally a woman, old enough for marriage. Pay close attention, Autumn. I will show you exactly how we’ll play House.”

I’d seen enough sexual acts that I didn’t need him to demonstrate it for me, but the reality was I wasn’t prepared for it. Once her clothing was removed, and carefully laid across a bench, she was made to lie on her back as still as could be. He patted the bed and called my name. I didn’t want to go over to him, but had no choice.

I had to fight back nausea as he cupped my face. “You will watch me with her. I will be thinking about you the entire time, so don’t get jealous.”

He was waiting for a reply. “Yes, Sonny,” I blurted, and he gave me one of his sick grins.

“She is going to show you how to remain still. As my perfect little doll, you can’t ever move. We tried drugs before, but it has too many side effects. Not to mention I need you in the moment. Go on now.”

He notched his head toward the bed, and I carefully climbed onto the edge of the mattress. The entire time I was mindful not to wrinkle the dress Sonny spent nearly an hour fussing over.

Layers of cream lace brushed against my legs as I moved. The stiff fabric scratched faintly at my skin beneath the heavy petticoat sewn underneath. Tiny pearl buttons marched down the front of the bodice, and pale blue ribbon had been threaded through the sleeves and waist in delicate bows.

It was identical to the dress that X had just removed, just a smaller sized one. Our wigs were the same. Curled and pinned away from our faces, styled the way he liked it. The resemblance was unsettling every time.

He wanted me to see my future in every way. The bed dipped just a little beneath my weight as I settled beside her. I kept my movements cautious, uncertain where to put my hands or how close I was supposed to be. The blankets smelled faintly of cloves and his cologne. The air in the room was warm.

I risked a glance at X. She didn’t look at me. Didn’t acknowledge me at all. Her body lay perfectly still atop the embroidered quilt, hands neatly at her sides, chin slightly lifted toward the ceiling.

That was when I understood. Slowly, I mirrored her. My back pressed carefully into the mattress, my fingers were so close they could brush against hers if I let them. I didn’t, for fear that she would get into trouble for it. I fixed my eyes on the ceiling above us, focusing on the cracks winding through the plaster instead of Sonny standing there watching every move I made.

I pretended my eyes were unseeing. And although I couldn’t see it, I heard him disrobing. I fought back the urge to scream. When he settled himself over X’s body, shoving between her legs, he paused and cupped my face.

It took everything in me to not react. He twisted my head toward X. A tear dripped from the corner of her eye closest to me, but her gaze remained on the ceiling.

“You need to watch to learn,” he said, his tongue darting out and over his lower lip.

Stay frozen, I reminded myself. So I focused on her face, painted as mine had been this morning by him. Both of our faces had been transformed into porcelain perfection. Our eyes and lashes were larger than life.

He’d even dotted freckles across our cheeks. Round, rosy circles strategically placed completed the look, and then he sprayed something over our faces that made everything shiny and plastic looking. Not even her tears cut through it.