🔪Doll🔪

Chapter 19

(Aris POV)
*Remember, Amara is from the Deep South and barely literate, so her dialog reflects how she speaks*

The next day, I visit Amara as I always do, but I dread that we have to finish our talk.

While I want to know what happened...need to know, part of me doesn't want to hear it because I know that it will do nothing but infuriate me.

And that's a side of me that I never want her to see or know. 

However, I'm hoping that if she tells me, I can head off CPS and their intrusive questioning by conversing with them myself, thus saving Amara the pain and hassle of having to tell her story over and over again.

I've told that Hughes hag that Amara is nowhere near ready to talk, which lead her to insist that she needs long-term psychiatric care...in a psychiatric facility.

Not fucking happening.

So...as painful as this may be for both of us, I'd rather her tell me than tell a bunch of strangers with cold, suspicious, clinical demeanors.

I enter her room with another southern themed lunch and let her eat in peace and enjoy her food. 

Afterwards, I make small talk...working my way to broaching the subject once more.

"Amara..." I get her attention. "You know Ms. Hughes, right?"

She nods.

"She's been wanting to talk to you about things...you know, like what we talked about yesterday," I hint as she frowns. "I know that you don't like talking to her, but if you finish telling me, I could tell her for you," I say with a hopeful lilt.

She sits quietly for a few minutes before looking at me. "Alright then," she sighs. "What does she wanna know?"

"What happened that night...when you were hurt," I answer softly as I take a seat beside her bed. 

"There was lots of them nights," she chuckles humorlessly before sighing once more. "I spose I'll start where I left off yesterday..."

"Only if you want to," I tell her sincerely and she nods.

"Where was I...?" she looks down, pondering for a moment before looking back up at me. "Oh...I member now..." she says. "We got in one of them taxi things again that drove us to his house. My face was pretty much plastered to the winda the whole time because I'd never seen a big city before..."

"Little did I know that it was just the calm before the storm," she says sadly before taking a deep breath. 

"Anyways, as we got further from the city and all them big 'ol buildings, we drove to a place where the houses were all tore up and there were people of color..." she trails off. "I smiled at 'em out the winda 'cause I hadn't never seen one before, but they didn't smile back," she says innocently.

Not a racist bone in her sweet body...

"He...my...father, was sitting beside me and laughed. He said not to worry 'cause they'd be likin' me soon 'nuff," she frowns. "He was always sayin' stuff that I didn't understand."

I grip the armrests on the chair tightly, seething...knowing exactly what he meant.

"We pulled up to his house," she swallows loudly. "It didn't look very tidy, but the inside was...worse."

That's an understatement!

"He gave that taxi man some money and once he took off, he yanked me up the steps and inside the house," she tells me grimly.