NOTE: Dollhouse is being split into two parts. Both will be updated as one in this book. Part One: "The Domino Effect"will be coming to an end with Chapter 14.
SWEET HELL, MAIAH MANSER
Matthew is sound asleep when I wake up the next morning. After the unprecedented nightmare, my dreams were graceful and happy. A perfect view of life with Matthew. With a white picket fence and all. The complete package. I watch Matthew's chest rise and fall as I think about it. A smile grows on my face. I trace a finger over the curve of his biceps. Moving my fingers down, his cock grows erect at my touch. If he heard me last night if at all, I want that to be the last thing on his mind when he wakes.
I move down his body, on my knees between his legs, until I'm up close and personal with his erection. Grasping the base, I flick my tongue on the crown. I spent some time giving him attention before hearing those soft moans I love so much. His hips move in a needy reaction, moving as I take him inside my mouth. I can practically taste the remains of both of us from last night. The hand that wraps around my hair makes me moan around him.
"Fuck," I hear him groan, increasing the grip on my hair.
My movements increase as he takes control of me. My throat tries to fight the harsh thrusts he's delivering. I gag. I keep my firm hold on him. My eyes water as I fight to breathe around him. He lifts my head by my hair; I hiss in pain and take him into my mouth again. His orgasm comes, making me swallow as fast as possible, the warmth filling my throat and my heart.
Once that's over, I crawl back up over him in a straddling position. His erection between finds the warmth of me threatening at the entrance. I take his mouth. Our teeth clash with each other, adding bass to our rhythms. I grind against him. A gasp leaves me as it rubs against my clit, providing sweet stimulation. His body dances with mine, reaching between us. Hearing that intake of breath as I squeeze, I slowly guide him inside me.
Laying on him, burying my face into his neck, circling my hips as I do so. He groans in response. I hum back at him, naturally, as if every cell knows my body is his. Then I grind myself against his sturdy hips. His hands find my hips while I find my rhythm quickly. Matthew didn't take control of the thrusts as he had. He only helps me lift. Continuing my tempo, his fingers dig into my skin, marking me. Claiming what is his. It only makes me increase my pace. My clit rubs against him, giving me extra stimulation. His muscles tense. He orgasms. His wetness mixes with mine. The feel of his release drives me overboard. I clench around him, milking him, riding the wave of my climax. I let myself collapse completely over his body. His arms wrap around me, thrusting his hips.
"Matthew," I groan as another orgasm rolls through me.
He gives my cheek a big kiss. "Fuck, that's a good way to wake up."
"Yes, I thought so," I giggle into his neck. I kiss his neck. The salty taste of sweat invades my taste buds. "We should get up."
"Yes," he replies. I attempted to remove myself from him. He doesn't budge. On the third attempt, I give up. "Maybe we should stay in bed."
"We have a spread to work on," I state. He groans in annoyance. "And I must meet Yaretzi before I head into the office."
"Fine," he says. I shriek in surprise at the burn on my ass. He fucking spanked me! "Let's go."
He drags himself off the bed with me attached to him. He's about to head into the bathroom when a phone rings somewhere in the house. Recognizing my ringtone, I sheepishly look at him. He rolls his eyes.
"Sorry, babe, I have to take that," I say. "You go ahead."
"Okay." He drops me to my feet. "Find yourself something to eat while you're at it."
By the time I dress and reach the button of the stairs, my phone has stopped ringing. I see my purse where I dropped it by the front door last night. Picking it up and searching for my phone in it, I see the missed call is from Sheriff Clarke. My pulse spikes up. I can feel my heart palpitating within my chest walls. Why the hell is he calling me? I drop my purse onto the couch and pocket my phone. Walking around his living room photo on a desk by the window catches my eye. Two men are smiling at the camera while on a hiking trip. Matthew and Alexander. If only Matthew knew what the St. John's were doing. I shake my head and leave in search of the kitchen to find something to eat.
***
I'm sitting on a barstool, eating vanilla Greek Yogurt and granola with bits of chocolate and raspberries, when Matthew walks into the kitchen. He kisses my temple before scouting the kitchen himself. Propping the refrigerator open, Matthew takes out a bottled orange juice and a case of eggs. I watch him compile everything to make his breakfast.
"Would you like some eggs, minx?"
He calls out my name. I look up at his face, embarrassed. I had failed to see he was watching me watch him, being distracted by how fuckable he looks in his black trousers and white dress shirt. The top two buttons are propped open and his sleeves are rolled up. I'm too engrossed in my fantasy. A life of domesticated bliss. All I want is to kiss that smirk off his face.
"Just one," I reply. "I'm getting full with this yogurt. Thank you."
"Okay. Did you get to answer your phone call?" He asks.
"No," I say. He nods. He remains quiet after that. My phone pings with an incoming text message from Yaretzi.
"Shoot! Gotta go," I blurt, disposing of my stuff into the trash and washing my spoon quickly. I turn to Matthew and peck at his lips. "I'll take that egg another day."
"Okay," he says. "Drive safe. I'll see you at Monarch."
"Yeah," I smile. "See ya!"
Leaving Matthew's home, I make it to Yaretzi's house in less than twenty minutes. When I get there, she's waiting for me beside the vehicle in her driveway. She waves as I park on the curb. She walks to me. Once the passenger's window is down, she passes a small wallet-looking object to me. It's bulky, but I know what it is. What needs to be done with it.
"Thank you for doing this," she says.
"Of course," I smile. "I just want this to be over."
"Me too," she sympathizes. "Is she safe?"
I nod. "He will keep her safe."
"I hope so. Or I'll make sure he stays dead this time."
My phone pings with another notification. I look at my phone, attached to the dashboard by a magnet mount, and at the message bar. I love you; it says. A message from Matthew Taylor. I can't contain my smile.
"Okay, bye. Don't let me keep you from your man," Yaretzi laughs. "I'm gonna go back into my house before my bodyguard comes over here to haul my ass back in. I can feel the burning holes."
"Means he's doing his job. The job your father has paid him to do," I reply while averting my eyes to him. He's standing on top of the small set of wooden stairs in front of her house. His brown eyes follow Yaretzi's every movement. "I'll leave you to it."
"Okay, you see around," she says.
I smile and wave at the man that's about to walk down those steps. I'm sure he's ready to haul her ass into the house and to bed. "Bye, Luis!"
He only nods in response.
***
Matthew isn't in his office when I arrive at Monarch. I search around the entire floor, to no avail. I even asked Crystal if she knew where he was. She said he had called to say he would work from home. But if he was with Sheriff Clarke? I still didn't know why he'd called me. He never called me again. So I spend my day working on the spread by myself. I see Matthew is online and working on the other spreads. A notification on my computer notifies me of a text message arriving on my phone.
My Love: Meet me at my house.
That's all he says. And so, I find myself outside his house once again after a long day at work. I press the doorbell. Matthew opens the door, wearing the same clothes from earlier. I smile. He doesn't. I frown as he pulls away. Confusion and something akin to dread coil within my already knotted stomach. Matthew doesn't look at me as he leaves me at the door. I let myself inside and close the door behind me.
"Are you okay?" I ask, following him. A massive pit boils in my stomach.
"I heard you. Last night," he begins. "I heard everything you said while you thought I was asleep."
I exasperate in grave disappointment. "So, what are you saying?"
He finally looks at me. "I'm saying I can't be with someone... I can't love someone who would lie to me. You kept that away from me. All this time!" He looks me straight in the eye. "I want you to leave. Do not speak to me again unless it is for work-related issues. Our relationship is over."
It is over.
It is over.
It is over.
The world topples, each axis tilting, as the words pierce my heart.
Matthew never wavers as the words leave his mouth. My heart drops to the floor. I feel the burn of tears rise. Slowly nodding, I take in what he just said. But the collected appearance is nothing to the inside. The tempest flooded me as everything I was ever sure of collapsed. I look up at the ceiling, trying to keep my tears at bay.
Please. Stop.
All I can think over and over is how this is my fault, the sound of my heart breaking on repeat. But I deserve this. This is my punishment. I am evil and he is good. It was never meant to be. I pull my outward self together; still, lonely tears trace my stoic face. Dignity. The only thing I had left.
"From the beginning, I knew this day would come. A part of me wished you'd never find out. It's not my fault my father turned out to be a killer. It's not my fault. They forced this life upon me. I can practically see the wheels turning in your head whilst you try to figure out how far you're willing to resent me." I look at him, pointing at the phone I'd seen in his living room earlier. "As you do that, keep in mind that Alexander St. John - your so-called best friend - owns two islands in Samoa. One where my sister has been all these years, hiding behind the charade of death by suicide. The other where females and men alike are served on a silver platter for anyone willing to pay for a 'good time.'"
"You know about human trafficking through Alba because of her job. You've never really known the extent of how connected she is to it. Her father is a human trafficker. Hell, two of my best friends have been suffering through that! I have had to put up with a lot throughout my entire life. I don't expect you to forgive me because I've told you about this," I continue. "You want to judge me? That's fine. I can handle it. You do not know that you are innocent in an ocean filled with sharks. I want to be honest with you and that means exposing everything I grew up with and know. I will leave as you've asked. But I'll let you ponder on the fact that the money you hand over to Vincente Villalobos and my father funds the drug they create in the laboratories that are sent out to those islands and a place here in our backyards. You have every right to be self-righteous, but learn about the people you associate yourself with."
Did you truly think he'd stay with you?
Fuck you.
I make it to the door before turning to face him. "Matthew, I told you you would regret it."
"What?" There's pain behind the beautiful color of his eyes.
"Loving me. Loving me was a mistake, but I love you. I've loved you since I was fourteen. I'll never stop loving you, even if you've stopped loving me for my sins."
Love is toxicity, but I am the toxin.
You always have been.
***
The first thing I do when I get home is head into the basement. I see her in her glass box. The clown outfit is haunting. The same one my father had used with that other one. My therapy sessions with Elijah had helped me to stand in this room in front of a clown, apart from managing my depression. I was no longer as scared as I used to be. It still freaked me out, but at least there was no hysterical sobbing.
I think about removing the IV from her arm. Letting her out of the box. Telling her to run.
But I don't.
You love this.
Shut up.
We both look at each other. I look away first, leaving. I close the door behind me, locking the shelf in place. The boxes glare at me. I've never looked into them. The temptation was always there. Never once had I looked inside until now. I'm not disappointed with what I find. Photos and my mother's most recent diary. Picking it up and sitting on the floor, I open it. I read it all. What she did. What she loved to do. The moments she spent with her children. What it was like for her to have another baby, although Marcos would have been a school kid by then. He was always her baby, being the youngest of the three.
My husband... he's a liar. A deceiving bastard.
Her last diary entry was about my father. The night she died. My mother had seen the camera footage of the basement in his office. That's how she found out. She had watched my father do it all. She had seen Valentina taking part. I had been the fool that followed them that night. I thought she had found out months later. She hid her knowledge of the Dollhouse as it ate away at her until she finally confronted my father.
The framed photos in the box are ones I'm familiar with. They're the ones that had been in my bedroom once upon a time before the redecoration. I take in my mother's strawberry-blonde hair. Her gray eyes. They're the only thing I inherited from her. Everything else was from my father. My siblings also took after him. Valentina and Marcos inherited dark hair and eyes.
The creaking sound of the door opening captures my attention. My hearing perks up in alertness. I listen to the sounds of feet entering the basement. I wait, completely still, to see who the intruder is. A flash of white meets me and I relax.
"Oh, hello, sweetie. I didn't know anyone was down here," Vanessa, our chef, and my confidant greets me.
"Hi," I greet her back. "Yeah, I was looking through some stuff."
Vanessa smiles. "Your mother's things."
I nod. "I found her diary... the one she didn't complete."
Vanessa nods in acknowledgment. "And what do you think?"
I look down at the journal beside me and all the photos that I spread out. Thinking hard, I realize that there's nothing greater than the love a mother has for her children. My mother had known about my father way before they married. She turned a blind eye to it, convincing herself that he had stopped because she asked him to. For their sake. For us. In the end, she knew he wasn't capable of doing things for others without getting something in return.
"Did you know?" I ask her.
"Did I know what?" Vanessa asks.
I look at the bookshelf door that's cracked open. Vanessa follows my line of sight to it.
"No." Her answer is quick. I hadn't expected her to know about it. Part of me wished it had so I could talk about it with her as I did everything else in my life. She was the one who taught me everything I needed to know in the kitchen. I spent long hours talking to her about my problems... about Matthew.
But she was in there now. The Vanessa before me was not real.
She was dead.
The cancer had taken her away from me after the Day of the Dead celebrations. It had been a quick diagnosis and a quick death.
Like the psychopath that I am, I couldn't let her go.
Her home was the Dollhouse now.
Dressed in her usual chef attire and preserved in a glass box as if she were some jam she had prepared.
God, that's messed up.
I don't know how I live like this.
Looking at Valentina's photo, I remember I had something to do. Opening the email app on my phone, I type in an email to the address I had found within the information on my father's computer.
After placing everything back into its respective box, I head up and go to my bedroom. The once-dormant voices don't stop. They whisper in my head. With me. Against me. Degrading. There's no escape from them. They all talk at once. No matter how much I tried to ignore them - to make them shut up - they became louder. Pounding against my skull like they need to be set free. No tears fall this time, but my head... it is burning, devouring my sanity. It doesn't help that the large stuffed bear in my room smiles back at me. I bundled myself in my blankets and sat crisscrossed to stop myself from doing something I may regret. The blade lays in front of me, waiting to be used.
Scenarios swim in my head. Wrists. Blood. Pain. Freedom. If I were to end it all, would the pain subside? The idea vividly plays in my head. I watch it occur before picking up the blade. Something stops me as the blade hovers over my exposed wrist. The memory of what happened with Valentina comes. The emotional distress we all went through. My mother's death. I look at the bear with its stupid smile. All I see is red. Anger and pain and the hunger to feel loved are lethal combinations. And not just to my prey.
I don't realize what I'm doing until I'm pulled away by muscular arms. The movement and the whispers in my ear snap me out of whatever trance I was in. Taking in my surroundings, I see what I've done. The stuffing spills out of the bear where I stabbed at it multiple times. Oh no. The familiar burning in my eyes comes in.
"What have I done?" I mumble as I cry.
"Sh, it's okay," the body behind me says.
"What did I do?" I cry.
Then I'm lifted. My brother, Marcos, carries me onto my bed. I can't bring myself to look away from the bear I butchered. The only thing I had left of Matthew. One thing that brought me comfort when he wasn't around. I had destroyed it. I feel Marcos settle in behind me. My brother wraps his arms around me, comforting me. He's the only one who's never left me. He's the only one who cares. But he shouldn't. It will destroy him, too.
"Gennie, it's okay." Marcos tries to reassure me. "But I need you to be strong. You're the only big sister I have left... I don't want to lose you, too."
As his words register in my mind, I break apart. Despite my chant of apologies, I'm not sure I can keep that promise.
I destroy everything.
Agh, I'm crying...