“Police reports claim that this is the second of two apparently linked murders. Sources close to the police tell us that detectives refer to the killer or killers as the ‘Sick Fux’. It seems to be the killer’s signature, found written in pink lipstick at the scenes. Both victims are Caucasian men in their fifties. Another murder, of an elderly female in Dallas, and the abduction of a young woman, also from Dallas, may also be linked. At this time there are no leads on the identity of the killer. Police ask the public to be vigilant and immediately report any unusual activity in their area. More after this break.”

I squealed at the television and bounced up and down on the couch. “Rabbit!” I called. Rabbit pounded from the bathroom. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, his skin still glistening wet from the shower. My eyes traveled down his skin. I had knowledge of it now, how it felt and how it tasted.

He walked over and stood behind the couch, and his hand found its way to the nape of my neck, holding me in place. Ever since we had left the Cheshire Cat’s home, he found a way to touch me whenever he could. And I found a way to touch him too.

He stroked the nape of my neck as the woman on the TV began to speak again.

“Besides the killer’s name, sources tell us that hand-drawn playing cards have been left with each body. The first victim, in Dallas, was the Queen of Hearts; the second, in Amarillo, the Three of Hearts; and the latest killing, the Four of Hearts. We will bring you more as the story develops.”

“See, Rabbit?” I looked up at Rabbit, whose eyes were glued to the TV. He nodded but said nothing. He just kept stroking the nape of my neck.

Rabbit had called the police after our last kill. He wanted the police of Wonderland to know that the Cheshire Cat, our Four of Hearts, was dead.

“They know us, Rabbit!” I yelled in excitement. “They know our name!”

Rabbit straightened, took the remote from my hand and turned off the TV. I pouted. “I was watching that!”

“You need to shower.” Rabbit looked down at my dress, and his lip curled in disgust. I was still in the clothes from Kitty’s death. I still had his blood on my skin.

“Okay.” I jumped up, swaying my hips as I walked. I knew my Rabbit would be watching. I heard him growl low in his throat as I entered the bathroom.

I showered quickly, the blood running to the shower tray, mixed with the makeup that had survived the kill and being taken by Rabbit. When I stepped out of the shower, I wrapped myself in a towel and combed my long blond hair. My skin was fresh and clean. I slipped a nightgown over my head and stepped out of the bathroom. Rabbit was sitting on the bed, wearing a pair of sleep pants. He held my knife in his hand . . . and there were cuts all over his chest, blood dripping down his fresh clean skin, marring it once again.

“Rabbit.” I lurched forward. He lifted his head. His mouth was closed and his lips were tight. He continued slicing into his chest as he stared at me. “Rabbit . . . what are you doing?” I asked as his blood spilled onto the white linen of the bed.

Rabbit said nothing. Instead he picked up a pen from the table next to the bed. He snapped the pen in his hands, and as the ink spilled from inside, he spread it over his cuts, rubbing the ink into his wounds. I rushed forward and jumped onto the bed. “Rabbit! What are you doing?” My heart beat wildly with worry.

Rabbit hissed as the ink sank in. Using the towel that had been around his waist, he wiped the blood and ink from his tattooed chest. As he pulled the towel away, my mouth dropped open and I gasped. “Rabbit . . .” I whispered. “Sick Fux.” My hand reached out and hovered over the words carved on his chest—words, for once, I recognized easily. Drops of blood sprouted from the letters. Without thinking, I ran my fingers through the warm liquid.

Rabbit stopped breathing as I did so. His pupils grew wide as his eyes tracked my fingertips. I froze, fingers in midair, as his nostrils flared and his breathing began to quicken. I glanced down and saw him hardening under his sleep pants.

He liked his blood on my fingers.

Holding his attention, I rubbed my fingertips together, feeling his blood soak them. He groaned. As my fingers rubbed together, more blood escaped, ran down the side of my hand and onto my wrist. I brought my hand to my mouth and licked at the falling drop.

Rabbit hissed. My eyes snapped to his. Rabbit’s neck was taut. His hands were fisted on the comforter. Breathless, I took another drop and circled it around my lips. His chest rose and fell. Leaning forward, I stayed just an inch from his face and licked my lips. My eyes fluttered closed. I now held a part of Rabbit in my mouth. I was taking his blood, his life force, into my soul.

I felt a sharp object run down my face and a hand wrap around my neck. Smiling, my eyes rolled open. Rabbit was before me, his hard chest smeared with blood and ink. He tilted his head as his eyes locked on to my neck . . . on to my pounding pulse.

“Little Dolly,” he said, voice so low I felt it all the way down to my bones. The tip of his thimble ran over my vein and traced across the front of my throat. My breasts ached as the cold metal touched my my skin. “So easily split open,” he whispered. His tongue licked around the shell of my ear.

“I can see your veins, little Dolly. I can see how blue they are against your pale skin. I can see your pulse pounding, throbbing in your neck.” He breathed in the scent from my freshly washed skin. “It’s calling my name.” He smiled against my neck. “It’s telling me to taste you as you have tasted me.”

“Yes,” I whispered and arched into his body. I felt the heat from his skin as soon as we made contact.

His thimble dug into the side of my throat. His eyes narrowed as he studied my skin. “You’re tempting me, darlin’,” he drawled, as his nose gently followed the path of the thimble. His tongue lapped at my skin. I moaned at the feel of having him so close . . . wanting my blood.

Blood he wanted to taste.

“I have always wanted your blood in my mouth, running down my throat.” He pressed a soft kiss on my pulse. I shivered. “You held me mesmerized from the first moment I met you. Not by your smile, not by your eyes, but by your throat and your veins. By your pulse and the paleness of your skin. My little Dolly. My painted Alice from Wonderland.”

“Rabbit,” I said hoarsely, my back arching as his other hand wrapped around my throat and began to squeeze.

“When I apply pressure like this, your veins bulge. They beg to be opened.” He tightened his grip. “Your blood sings to me. Begs for me to take you how I want. How I have always wanted to.”

“Do it,” I urged, tilting my head to offer him my neck.

“Mmm,” Rabbit murmured. He released my neck from his grip and unfastened the buttons at the front of my nightgown. The humid air in the room stuck to my skin. I rubbed my lips together as my body was bared. As the material parted, he guided me down to the bed. He swung above me, his legs straddling my waist. His arms were braced on either side my head. As Rabbit’s silver eyes roved over my body, I watched a stray droplet of blood run from the “X” carved into his chest. It rolled forward to the bottom of his neck. I lifted my chest and caught the drop in my mouth. Rabbit groaned above me, and using the hand on my throat, he slammed me back to the mattress. I locked on to his stare, moaning as his eyes moved from hungry to completely wild.

“Taste me.” I pushed my breasts up to rub against his chest. “Taste me . . . make me completely yours. Own me.” I looked him square in the eye. “Your Dolly. Own your Dolly.” I smiled. “Rabbit and Dolly . . . forever.”

Rabbit growled. He dragged the tip of his thimble carefully along my throat, over the vein. I held back my cry when the cold metal sliced gently into my flesh. Warm blood trickled down my neck. I glanced at Rabbit. He was watching my blood like it was the tastiest treat he ever did see.

“Dolly,” he rasped and ran his hand gently through my hair. He gazed into my eyes. His hand ghosted down my cheek, making me breathless.

I wanted to give him my blood.

Dolly’s lifeblood.

Rabbit’s deepest need.

Rabbit’s eyes got heavy. Then, as I felt a drop fall to my shoulder, Rabbit bent forward and ran the tip of his tongue over the escaping droplets. I moaned at the feeling of his hot tongue as it climbed up my shoulder, over the bottom of my neck, eventually hovering over the tiny cut he had made.

His tongue flicked back and forth over my vein. My legs moved restlessly on the bed as his hand wrapped around my throat and held me down. My eyes flickered open, only to collide into Rabbit’s, watching me as he fed on my blood. Watching as I arched my body into his chest, breasts catching the blood from his newly cut tattoo.

I moaned as he sucked on my skin, crying out at the brief sting of pain it caused. My hands raked through his hair. Rabbit groaned. Then he pulled back, releasing me from his lips. I fixed my gaze on his mouth. His lips were bloodstained, bright red. And he smiled. I swept my finger along his mouth, and my own blood gathered on it. I held his attention captive as I brought the finger to my lips.

Rabbit’s grip pulsed on my throat. My tongue flicked out and I tasted the blood. That was all it took to make Rabbit crash his mouth to mine and kiss me hard. His tongue plunged into my mouth, and I cried out at the shock of it. Rabbit was kissing me. He was kissing me back. He meant it. I felt his need for me through our joined mouths.

“Dolly,” he whispered against my lips. His mouth moved along my cheek, rubbing my blood into my skin with his lips. And he was kissing me. Moving down my neck and over my opened skin, his thimble traced down my chest to my breasts. I felt a pinch as he pushed the tip into the nipple on my left breast. His hand slipped from my throat and cupped my breast as he squeezed the flesh, causing a fleck of blood to bud on the tip. Rabbit growled as he wrapped his lips around me. His tongue flicked over my nipple as he took more of my blood.

He moved to my other breast and did the same. He shifted to my torso and tracked prick after prick along my stomach and down across my hips. His mouth took from each small cut.

Lapping.

Licking.

Drinking me down.

He shifted his body between my legs and ran the tip of the thimble along the flesh of my inner thigh. My breath got trapped in my throat as I looked down at him. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, his intense gaze focused on me. I whimpered as I felt his warm breath ghost over my core.

“Blood is the color of the heart,” he said, his voice raspy and raw. His thimble moved closer and closer to the apex of my thighs. He looked down at the slow movement of the thimble as it drew white lines along my delicate skin, threatening to break through. He lowered his mouth to the very top of my right thigh, his cheek brushing along my folds. He nipped at the flesh with his teeth, then let go, licking the tender spot he had bitten. “Red, the color of blood.” He moved across to my other thigh and bit me again, his tongue soothing the pain his teeth had caused. “Red means stop. Red means danger.” He looked up at me, a stunning, sinister smile on his face. “It is the liquid that both delivers and takes life.” Rabbit smudged the blood he had drawn and caressed it into my pale skin.

His breathing hitched as he watched my skin stain red. “It is the covenant one makes with the devil himself.” He lifted his head, eyes locked on mine. “A covenant you are making with me.” Rabbit’s thimble climbed north. The sharp tip balanced on a precipice, forcing me to trust him.

I did. I would always trust my Rabbit.

“The devil will lie.” He kissed my inner thigh. “He will cheat.” He edged closer to my core, his mouth moving up and sideways until his cheek brushed the spot between my legs that made me fall apart. “And he will trick.” He moved ever closer, and I shifted on the bed, needing him to take me. Needing him to relieve me of the pressure building at his touch. His eyes softened. “And he will kill, and travel miles to get to the one who holds his fucked-up black heart in her palm.”

“Rabbit . . .” I whispered as tears filled my eyes.

“He’d kill anyone who hurt her, just to make her his. He would punish anyone who got in his way.” His eyes flared with something so dark it seemed to blot out the dim light of the lamp. “He will awaken, through blood, what lies dormant in her soul. The darkness that had lurked hidden for years, sleepily waiting for the time to strike. To be born.” I yelped as he pierced the skin on my upper thigh. I looked down and saw blood between my legs.

Rabbit flicked out his tongue. In one long swipe, he licked my core from the bottom to the top.

“Rabbit!” I screamed as his touch sent a wave of pleasure soaring through my bones.

My eyes closed, only for Rabbit to command, “Open!” My eyes snapped open. He licked his lips. “Watch. Watch me as I drink from you. As you split apart from my touch, with your blood staining my mouth.”

I remained silent, need and incessant want stealing my voice. Rabbit’s eyes darkened. “Answer me, little Dolly. Answer the devil who is taking your freedom with the pact of blood.”

“Yes, Rabbit.” My skin burned, waiting for him to bring me to the light that only my Rabbit could show me.

With a savage growl, his head plunged between my legs and he licked me. He licked and licked, taking my blood into his mouth, down his throat. And I screamed. I screamed and cried out as he took from me.

I gripped his hair as tightly as I could. I moaned as his tongue moved faster, as he took and took from me. My skin flushed—the blood under my skin rushing faster than the blood that escaped through the pinholes and slices Rabbit had made.

“Take it . . .” I felt my cheeks blaze with heat, as the shivers that brought the pleasure zipped around every inch of my skin. “Take it,” I ordered. Rabbit snarled, his mouth against my core, tongue sliding more and more deeply into me. With every slash of his sharp thimble, my pleasure built and built like a storm on a scorching day, ready to thrash the skies and bring the relief of thunder, lightning and rain.

Rabbit moved his thimble to the bud that broke me apart. He pushed the tip so slightly that it barely touched me, but it was enough to splinter my body in two. A scream ripped from my heart as I yanked on his hair and my eyes squeezed shut. Rabbit sucked and pulled at the new piercing, and I shook my head as the pleasure surged through me. It came and came like a rainstorm sweeping through dry lands. He licked and licked until I could take no more.

I pushed his head away. I fought for breath as my back hit the mattress and sweat dripped between my breasts. The beads of sweat mixed with a drop of blood and fell down my stomach. Rabbit lurched forward, as if in attack, and his mouth landed over the pink drop. I stilled, gasping as his eyes met mine and he swallowed.

And we didn’t move. We stayed that way, frozen. Rabbit’s breathing was uneven as he stared at me, full from feasting on my blood.

I’d left my life in his hands.

Gave over to him the power of life or death.

He exhaled a long breath. “You gave me your blood.” He blinked, as if he couldn’t believe I had let him have me that way. My hand was shaking as I ran it down his face. My fingertip stroked across his spade tattoo, drawing a groan from Rabbit’s mouth.

He waited, breath held, for me to speak. When I did, I said, “Now it’s my turn.” Rabbit’s lips parted, and his eyes widened then hooded as my words sank in. A low rumble sounded in his chest, and he crawled up my body. His eyes never broke from mine. My heart slammed in my chest. Rabbit’s face met mine, his lips, cheeks and chin covered in crimson. His teeth were coated with blood.

Rabbit’s head tipped from side to side as he studied my face. I lifted my fingers to his chest and walked them along his raw tattoo. “Sick Fux,” I whispered, reading the words aloud. Words I could read. Words I had drawn in pink on the Cheshire Cat’s head.

Words now forever etched into Rabbit’s flesh.

My fingers kept trekking north until they stopped on the beating pulse in his throat. My fingertip tapped on his pulse, in time with its beat. Rabbit’s eyes darkened. “What you gonna do, little Dolly?”

Naughty Rabbit was taunting me, and my core throbbed at his tone. Narrowing my eyes, I reached out beside me to the side table. Without looking, my hand found the familiar ivory handle. Rabbit’s nostrils flared as I brought my blade to hover in the small space between us. I placed the tip over his heart. A grin pulled on my lips as I listened to its beat and sang, “Tick tock . . . tick tock . . . tick tock . . .”

Rabbit’s eyes rolled back. Then I was moving the blade upwards. I scraped his skin, the tip dragging cold steel over the raw flesh of his new tattoo. Rabbit’s eyes snapped open and told me without words that he wanted the pain.

My Rabbit loved the pain.

My blade stopped where my finger still hovered over his pulse. Rabbit’s lip curled as he waited. When I ever-so-gently dug the tip of the knife into his skin, right into his clock tattoo, I watched as his blood pumped to the surface and trickled down his neck. I was mesmerized as it tiptoed over ink until it could hold on to Rabbit’s skin no longer and dropped on to my breast. His shaft grew harder against my thigh. Knowing he was watching, I scooped up the drop on my finger and brought it to my mouth.

“Mmm,” I murmured. Rabbit’s cheeks were flushed, and his breathing was out of control. His hips began to thrust his shaft against my thigh in short, slow movements. Using my free hand to push my upper body off the bed, I rose until my face was a mere inch from Rabbit’s.

“Delicious.”

Rabbit wrapped his hand around the nape of my neck. Holding my head captive, and with a tight mouth and harsh eyes, he ordered, “Drink . . .” He forced my head to his neck. “Drink from me.”

Smiling, victorious at getting the response I wanted, I inhaled his scent, then flicked out my tongue and tasted his blood. Rabbit groaned and pushed my mouth closer to his neck. I let him control me, fixing my lips over the cut and sucking.

I liked it when he controlled me.

Blood dripped onto my tongue and trickled down my throat. Rabbit’s shaft rubbed against my leg, faster and faster, as I drank and drank. Then I stopped. I fought Rabbit’s grip and tilted my head to the side.

I knew my Rabit liked it when I tried to resist.

In a heartbeat, his hot mouth had latched on to the slit on my throat, and he took from me as I took from him. I dropped my hand between us and under the waist of his pants. Without breaking away, I took hold of his shaft, Rabbit snarling at my touch as I pumped his length. I groaned and groaned as we took and took. In seconds, Rabbit snapped his head back and roared out his release. He spilled into my hand, and I stroked him until he pulled back his hips.

I drew my head back to find Rabbit watching me. Suddenly, he was off the bed and retrieving something from his bag. When he came back, he was holding a vial just like the one around my neck. I gasped and gripped the vial I never took off. The one that held the potion that made me small. The one labeled “Drink Me.”

Rabbit kneeled on the bed and removed the cork from the vial. Without speaking, he brought the vial to my neck and filled it with my blood. My heart raced and my breasts ached at the thought that he wanted my blood near him at all times.

He pulled back and met my eyes. I lifted the black ribbon attached to the vial and secured it around his neck. “Rabbit,” I whispered as he reached around my neck to untie the ribbon keeping my vial in place. He uncorked the cork and poured the blue liquid onto the floor. “Rabbit!” I called frantically. I reached out in panic, but Rabbit grabbed my hand and thrust the vial into it.

“You don’t need that now, little Dolly. My blood is all you’ll ever need.”

I swallowed and searched his face. “Really?”

He nodded. “It’ll make you tall if you need it. It’ll make you small if you need it too.” He leaned forward, mouth at my ear. “And it’ll give you strength when you’re weak.”

My eyes widened. It was better than the blue drink? I snatched the vial to my chest, then pushed the glass to the dripping cut on his neck. Excitement grew inside me as the blood filled up the vial. When it was done, Rabbit took the glass bottle from me, secured the cork and tied the ribbon back around my neck. I reached up and felt the bottle—it was warm.

Rabbit took my blade from the mattress, and with one quick swipe, he slashed the knife across his palm. He made a fist, and blood dripped to the linen. “Hand,” he said. Immediately, I held out mine. Rabbit stared at me. With an equally quick swipe, he sliced the steel across my palm. I hissed at the sharp, stinging pain.

Rabbit leaned forward and stroked my cheek with his bloodied hand. His lip hooked as though he would smile. Then he grabbed my hand. He slammed our palms together and brought them up high. My eyes locked on the sight, and I felt the warmth from his blood mixing with mine. Rabbit moved his head closer and ran his nose over my forehead. “A pact, signed in blood,” he said and inhaled the mint shampoo scent from my freshly washed hair. “Your contract with me . . . telling me that you belong to me now. My little Dolly darlin’, your blood merged with mine. Your blood running with mine, through my veins, bringing me your light.” His nose ran down my cheek, and he smiled in victory. “And my blood now runs in yours. My darkness . . . my blackened soul polluting yours, bringing you over to my side. My Dolly . . . after all these years, mine. Succumbing to my will.”

“Yes,” I said dreamily, as I swayed, seduced by his words, by him being so close, skin on skin, sharing our blood.

I smiled and looked up at Rabbit looking down at me. “Always one.” I pulled him down to the bed, facing him, our hands still joined.

My eyes wandered to the blood on my hands, and my stomach suddenly fell. I squeezed my eyes shut when images began assaulting my mind. I shook my head when I saw things I didn’t want to see . . .

“Tie her down. Do it before she makes a fucking show and draws unwanted attention.”

A hand hit my face and my head spun. The taste of blood sprouted in my mouth. I blinked and looked to my left, and then to the right; the same face stared at me from both sides. Two identical sets of hands held my wrists. Uncle Jeffrey and Uncle Samuel. My identical twin uncles were pinning me down. I tried to see what room I was in. I didn’t recognize it. A door opened behind me, and I heard footsteps approach. But my head was foggy. My papa had given me a cup of tea. But the tea made me feel dizzy. It made my head all fuzzy and my eyes struggle to focus.

“Keep hold of her.” I looked down at my feet and saw my papa standing there.

Then I saw him. Uncle John moved beside me, and I shuddered. I didn’t like Uncle John. He came for me every night. I didn’t like what he did to me in the room opposite where Heathan used to be taken.

Before he left me.

My eyes filled with tears as I thought of his face. As I thought of his eyes. As I thought of—

“I thought you said she was on a shot or some shit?” Uncle John said to my papa. His hand came out and stroked my head. I hated his touch. I wanted to pull away. I tried, but Uncle John’s face snapped my way and his fingers wrapped in my hair. He yanked my head back to face him. He bent down. He made it so our noses were touching. Then he kissed me.

His free hand slid down to my stomach. I felt his hand on my bare skin. I was naked. My heart raced as I looked at my twin uncles pinning me down. At my papa talking to a man in white at the side of the room . . . at Uncle John petting my stomach.

“Too bad you can’t keep this, Ellis,” he said and smoothed his hand over my hair. “She would have been just as pretty as you. Blond hair. Blue eyes . . . pale skin.” He closed his eyes and smiled. My stomach rolled. “And she would have been mine. Mine to have. Mine to raise. My pretty half, Ellis.”

I didn’t know what he was talking about. I tried to think through the fog in my mind, but I couldn’t. “Don’t worry,” Uncle John soothed as he kissed my cheek. “The doctor is here to make it all go away.” He shushed me when I tried to open my mouth to speak. Panic filled me. There was a doctor? Why was there a doctor here?

Uncle John shook his head and pressed a finger over my lips. “You’ll only be asleep for a while. And when you wake up, things like this won’t be able to happen anymore.” He kissed my lips, and I tried to fight the grip of my twin uncles, but Uncle Jeffrey struck my face again, and the back of my head smacked against the table I was on.

I cried out as they tightened their grips on my wrists. “Think of all the fun we can have afterwards,” Uncle John said. My papa moved beside him and pulled him away by the arm.

A woman came from behind me, and I looked up into her eyes. They were brown. She had a green mask over her mouth and rubbery gloves on her hands.

“Help me,” I managed to whisper, ignoring the tears that fell down my lips. My mouth was dry. My tongue felt too fat in my mouth. But she looked away, took something in her hand. Then I saw a mask coming toward me. She pushed it over my mouth . . . the room began to spin as I breathed . . . then everything went black.

When I woke I was in my room. I tried to move, my body trying to get out of my bed. Confusion filled my head. But when I tried to move, a slicing pain from my stomach made it impossible.

“Ellis,” a soft voice called from the doorway. My bottom lip shook at the amount of pain I felt. Mrs. Jenkins came toward me with a cup of tea in her hand. She sat next to me on the bed. “Shh, sweetie,” she soothed. I cried harder.

“Mrs. Jenkins . . .” I rasped, my voice dry and my throat sore. “What happened? My stomach hurts. Everything hurts.”

Mrs. Jenkins brought the tea to my mouth. “It’s Earl Grey, sweetie. Your favorite.” I didn’t want the tea. I always wanted tea, but not right now. Mrs. Jenkins didn’t give me a choice. She tipped the liquid into my mouth. She made me drink it all. My throat felt better as the hot tea spilled down it.

When all the tea had been drunk, my eyes began to close. Mrs. Jenkins’s hand pressed against my forehead. I was nearly asleep, but I still heard Mrs. Jenkins place the china cup on my nightstand. Still felt her move my comforter down my body and touch something around the place my stomach pained me most.

Still heard her say, “A scar is a small price to pay for the comfort that you’ll never have babies, Ellis. That baby was better off not entering this world. It was the best thing for you both . . . best you can never get pregnant again . . .”

I gasped and ripped my hand from Rabbit’s. “I can’t breathe,” I cried. My hand flew to my chest and rubbed. But it didn’t help. So I clawed. I clawed at the place over my heart. It was beating too fast.

“Dolly.” Rabbit sat up next to me. But I needed to be off the bed. I jumped off the mattress, my nightgown hanging open. But I still couldn’t breathe.

“ . . .you’ll never have babies, Ellis . . .”

Scar . . . scar . . . scar . . .

I closed my eyes and propped my hand against the wall. I smacked at the side of my skull with my hand when I couldn’t get the nasty thoughts from my head. When I couldn’t get the voices out of my ears.

Ellis . . . Ellis . . . Ellis . . .Why were they calling me Ellis?

Sweat ran down my chest. I pushed off the wall and walked in circles, but the voices just kept getting louder. Uncle John . . . Uncle John . . . Uncle John’s voice . . .

Who was Uncle John?

“No.” I opened my eyes. I shook my head, backing against the wall. My nails moved down to my wrists and to my arms, clawing at the flesh. I clawed and clawed until the blood began to pour. I was covered in blood. So much blood. Mine. Rabbit’s . . . a baby’s . . .

“No!” I screamed and slumped to the ground. I threw my hands on the side of my head and began to rock. Why were they calling me Ellis? Ellis had a scar.

She had a scar!

I ripped my hands from my head and looked down. I wiped away the blood on my stomach with the material of my nightgown, soaking the white material with red. But then I saw it. I would never have noticed it if I wasn’t looking. It was almost not there. But I saw it.

I had the scar . . .

But Ellis . . . Ellis had the scar. Not Dolly. Dolly didn’t have the scar. The bad men had hurt Ellis. Her twin uncles and Uncle John . . . her Uncle John, the nastiest man of all.

Ellis . . . her name started to sound different in my head. Ellis . . . I closed my eyes as I heard different voices call that name in my head. “Ellis . . . baby girl . . .” her papa had said. “Ellis . . .” Mrs. Jenkins. “Ellis . . .” A boy, a boy wearing a hat. Then, “Ellis . . . that’s a stupid name . . .” Heathan.

Heathan?

My eyes snapped open. Heathan sounded like my Rabbit.

Rabbit . . . Rabbit . . . my Rabbit . . .

Two hands grabbed my arms, and I looked up. “Ellis . . .” I blurted, and Rabbit’s face paled. “Ellis can’t have babies.” A sob tore from my throat. “She had one, in her belly. But they took it out. They took it all out. No more place to keep a baby. No more blood every month. They took it all.” I choked on a cry. “They gave Ellis a scar . . .”

Rabbit didn’t say anything, but his hands shook on my arms. His face turned from white to bright red.

My hands raked across the scar on my stomach. “I have a scar, Rabbit. It’s there! I see it. Can you see it?” My head shook and too many images sprang into my head. A hallway . . . an office . . . a bed . . . Uncle John . . . Uncle John . . . Uncle John . . . Papa . . .

I clawed at my scar, but Rabbit threw my hand out of my way and looked down. A growl ripped from his throat, so venomous that I flinched away. “Rabbit, why do I have a scar? Why were people calling me Ellis? Why do I have a scar like Ellis . . .?”

Rabbit went dead still and locked his eyes on mine. His jaw was still tight, but he released one of my arms and lifted his thimble into the air. “I gave it to you,” he said. I didn’t like the sound of his voice. It was frightening. He hissed, eyes closing for a second. “I gave it to you years ago.” He tilted his head to the side, searching my eyes. “Don’t you remember?”

I shook my head and uncurled my body some from its place against the wall. “When? Why?”

“When we were little.” He swallowed, and a drop of blood fell from the cut on his neck. “We were having afternoon tea with the Mad Hatter, the Dormouse and the March Hare. I accidently dropped the teapot on the ground. You tripped and fell. A piece of the teapot cut your stomach.”

I racked my brain to remember. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t remember the faces of the Dormouse, the March Hare or the Mad Hatter. But I did like my afternoon tea . . .

“I don’t remember,” I whispered and felt my bottom lip quiver.

Rabbit’s angry silver eyes softened, and the hand holding the thimble moved to my cheek. His hand was shaking. I didn’t know why. “You hit your head,” Rabbit whispered back. He tapped my temple. “You lost some of your memory.” My heart felt sad at how sad he sounded.

I reached up and covered his hand on my cheek. “Don’t feel bad, Rabbit. I don’t remember, but I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” I smiled, but it felt strange on my face because my heart still wanted me to cry. I fought against it. I was a champion, after all. “I am not mad at you, Rabbit. I could never be mad at my Rabbit.”

His eyes closed, and he inhaled quickly through his nose. When his eyes opened again, I sighed. “Rabbit . . . did all of that happen to Ellis? Did she have her baby taken from her? Did they take away the place in her tummy where babies live? Did they do that to her, even though she cried?”

Rabbit made a strange choking sound in his throat. But he nodded. His lips shook, still stained with blood. “I think it did,” he said, his voice catching. He cleared his throat. “Ellis was hurt real bad.”

I nodded and looked down. Tears fell from my eyes and splashed on the floor. “My Ellis . . . I am sad for my friend Ellis.”

“I am too.” He stroked his thumb across my neck. “Do you want some tea, darlin’? Will tea help you feel better?”

I smiled, even though it hurt my lips. “Yes please, Rabbit. Tea always helps.”

He stared at me without words, then my heart flipped in my chest when he leaned forward and kissed my forehead. His lips were soft, and they stayed, branding my skin for so many seconds that my cold skin began to warm. My hurting heart began to feel warm.

Rabbit never kissed me so gently . . . It confused me so.

But I loved it. I loved his softened eyes. They were like a bright sunbreak on a gloomy day. They made my heart flutter in my chest.

I watched him cross the motel room to the tea station I had set up as soon as we arrived. I watched him boil the kettle and place the Earl Grey teabag in the teapot and set out two china cups, one for me and one for him.

As the teabag steeped, he turned to me, and his eyes met mine. He paused only for a moment, then bent down and lifted me up in his arms. My head rested against his shoulder as he placed me on the bed and pulled the comforter over my legs.

He retrieved the tea and brought it to the bed. I smiled when I looked at the cake dish. “Strawberry tarts,” I proclaimed tiredly. My voice was husky from crying . . . from my sadness for my sweet friend Ellis.

“Your favorite.” He poured the tea. My legs were cold, but as soon as I tasted the sweet milky tea on my tongue, I felt warm. I closed my eyes, and I saw a blond woman in my mind. I saw her sitting on a chair in a pretty room, drinking tea with a blanket over her legs. She had dark circles under her eyes, but a little girl sat on her knee. Even though the woman was sick, she still smiled at the girl on her lap. The little girl was drinking tea too. I smiled at how happy the little girl was. I smiled at how nice the woman was.

She made me feel warm all over. She was so kind.

Then the little girl turned her head my way. Her blue eyes met mine. My heart skipped a beat. Tears filled my eyes, and my throat closed up. Because the little girl was . . .

“Ellis?”

Ellis smiled as I whispered her name. I had found Ellis. She was so young. No older than ten. Long blond hair. Big blue eyes . . . just a little girl.

Finding the strength to move, I waved, and Ellis waved back. She slipped off her mummy’s lap and came toward me. A lump clogged my throat. I had finally seen her. Finally knew what she looked like. After all these years . . .

I thought she looked a little like me.

“Dolly,” she said and smiled. She reached down and touched my hand.

I smiled at the tea she had just left behind. “You like afternoon tea too?”

She laughed, and I couldn’t help but laugh too. “Yes, so very much!”

“Only Earl Grey,” we said in unison. We laughed even harder.

Her smile fell. “Thank you for destroying the bad men.” She brought her hand to her stomach. Right where I knew the scar was. I forced myself to hold back my tears.

“I haven’t finished.” I reached for her hand. It was soft as I held it in mine. Her nails were painted bright pink too.

“No,” she said and worried her lip. She glanced back to her mummy. “My mummy is not here anymore.” I looked up and watched as her mummy disappeared before my eyes. “The tea,” she said. I watched as the walls of the bright, pretty room began to run with black paint. “I think the tea was making her sick.” Ellis turned to me. The blue dress she wore also began to turn black. “The men you will face next hurt me badly, Dolly.”

I nodded, now knowing how they did.

“You must make them pay.” Her hand slipped from mine as something unseen dragged her backward. A dark forest sprang up around us, and she faded away. “Only then can I be free,” she said, before she was gone . . . her sweet little voice was gone too.

I blinked and found Rabbit searching my face, his hand under my chin. “Dolly . . . Dolly, are you okay?”

I nodded and gripped the handle of my teacup. “I . . . I was talking to Ellis, Rabbit.”

Swallowing, he asked, “What did she say?”

“That I have to defeat the rest of the bad men.” My eyelids fell. “Because they hurt her the most. Only then can she be free.”

He nodded, then gently pulled me back to lie down, placing my teacup on the side table. His hand was wrapped around mine, and he watched me as I began to fall asleep. I heard the sound of card hitting card and opened my eyes. Rabbit was holding three cards in his hand. The three cards we had left. I sat up when I caught sight of one in particular.

“The men who held Ellis down,” I said, seeing the drawings of the twin uncles. “The ones who hit her face when they hurt her belly.”

“Tweedledum and Tweedledee,” Rabbit announced, his voice returned to its dark tone. He laid the card between us, and my lip curled, anger building inside of me at how they had made my friend Ellis feel. “They’re yours.” He placed the card on my lap.

“Destroy them.”

“What?” I exclaimed. Rabbit’s eyebrows pulled down.

“I didn’t say anything,” he said.

“Destroy them, Dolly. For me . . . for us . . .” the voice said again.

I breathed deeply when I realized who had spoken. My head tipped to the side as she spoke. I nodded in understanding. Looking at Rabbit, I explained, “It was Ellis.” I tapped my head. “She spoke to me in here.”

“Wh-what did she say?”

I stared down at the card. At the drawing of Tweedledum and Tweedledee. And I smiled, tasting the remaining blood in my mouth. “To destroy them. To destroy them both . . . painfully.”

Rabbit’s nostrils flared, and he put the card on the side table. Gripping my hand, he faced me. “Then you shall destroy them, little Dolly. You shall have them all to yourself.”

I closed my eyes and sighed in relief.

Rabbit kissed my hand, and I drifted to sleep. I shall break them apart piece by piece, Ellis. I promise. Just hold on. You’ll be free soon . . . please.

Just hold on.