Doll Crimes
“Don’t worry about Uncle Steve, babe. He just wants a few pictures, that’s all. It’s a pretty swimsuit, huh? Maybe when the weather’s warm again we’ll go to the swimming pool like we did last year. You remember?”
I didn’t remember. I didn’t remember the pool. Only the smell of chlorine, and sharp pains in my ears. All of me shaking, my skin so wet.
But I’m cold.
“We’ll get the room warm, okay?”
“Such a pretty little blonde thing,” Steve said. “With that pretty little thing.” He laughed. It was an ugly sound. Not like the kind of laugh I’d heard before. It bolted out of his throat like a blast of pebbles hitting an iron bucket. Too hard, too loud, scattering against the edges.
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