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"I'll be right there," I mutter, but Anders lingers in the doorway, waiting for me to get up.
"Mr. Booth, it's just that-"
"I said I'll be right there!" The words come out as a growl, and Anders retreats into the shadows of the hallway, leaving me alone with my jumbled thoughts and a heart that's hammering in my chest so fast I'm convinced it's going to burst through the skin.
I take another moment to collect my thoughts. To prepare myself for what's waiting on the other side of the cushioned door, in the room that's quickly becoming the setting for every one of my nightmares.
Then, I force myself up from my father's chair, pull my shoulders back, and walk down the hallway to the room where she's kept.
I unlock all three of the locks. I take a deep breath before opening the door, and once I do, she's on me like a banshee.
Long, jaggedly broken nails dig into my skin, her teeth snapping at me. The sounds coming out of her mouth are garbled screams that resemble an animal more than a human. It's a bad day.
I grab her by the wrists, gently forcing them by her sides. I kiss her once beautiful cheek, and in moments, she disintegrates into a mess of tears and whimpers.
"Shh, it's okay," I whisper in her ear, smoothing down her matted hair. "Everything's going to be okay. I'm here now."
Her ragged breaths start to slow down. Her body sags against mine, and I have to hold her up so she doesn't fall, my arms under hers, my body shielding hers from the pain of the world.
"You left," she breathes in her broken voice. "You left me alone, I was all alone, all by myself, with nobody here..."
"Anders was here," I remind her gently. "And I had to go to school, you know that."
Her eyes flash with anger. She doesn't understand. She only sees herself now, her own situation overriding my own again and again. She's deemed herself more important than anything I have to do, and I don't have the heart to fight her on it.
"I'm sorry," I mutter despite myself, getting the words out through gritted teeth.
This seems to please her, and she cuddles closer, her shivering body adjusting to mine, leaning in, holding me close.
"Don't leave me again," she whispers, and my body stiffens against hers. "Stay with me. Stay with me forever, Dexter, please, don't go again..."
I hate knowing I can't do that. I hate myself because she doesn't evoke the same emotions from me, the ones she should. Not because of her scars, but because she's broken me, broken us and broken herself.
"I'll stay," I murmur.
"Forever?" she whispers hopefully.
I swallow thickly and nod against her frail body. "Forever."
And even though we both know I'm lying; we don't acknowledge it. She lets me hold her, closing the door behind me so we're both prisoners in her new, pristine world. She gets me for a few hours. It will have to be enough.
* * *
After I'm done, I lock the door behind me three times again. Thankfully, she's drifted off to sleep and there is no screaming and shouting as I leave her behind the firmly locked door. Once I'm done, I lean my back against the cushioned fabric covering the wood, taking a deep breath to try and center myself again.
She's fucking me up, and she knows it. Sometimes, I'm convinced everything that's happened has turned her evil. She's vicious when she wants to be, and she loves to punish me for what she thinks are my mistakes. And I let her, because I feel so goddamn guilty for everything that's happened. I let her, because even though I should know better, I can't bring myself to hurt her willingly.
Anders appears from around the corner, offering me a warm, wet towel. I wipe my hands with it and the towel quickly becomes drenched in my own blood. She doesn't always scratch this deep. But when she does, I let her. Otherwise I feel too guilty.
"Is there anything else you need me to do?"
Anders' words reach me in a whisper, fighting their way through my preoccupied mind. Her face is momentarily replaced by Pandora. Innocent, feisty Pandora who's so fucking eager for a punishment, she's practically begging for it.
"Yes," I mutter. "Get me Pandora's number."
Anders nods, disappearing down the corridor while I head back into what used to be my father's study. Anders does his best to keep this place clean and spotless, but he's an old man now and the place is too big for him. There are cobwebs in the corners of the room, a thin layer of dust decorating the fireplace where a framed photograph of my parents stands proudly. I pick up the frame, blowing off the dust and furrowing my brows at the sight of their happy, unsuspecting smiles. They died not long after the picture was taken, a few days after my eighteenth birthday.
I set the picture down as Anders reappears, clearing his throat.
