'And she's a bad influence on you, too. She's a bad influence on all of us.' He met his parents' eyes. Both of them looked away, embarrassed.
'Does Billingham know about Donielle ?'
'Billingham?' His parents exchanged a quick look.
'What does Billingham have to do with this?'
'You know.'
'Stormy--'
'You know why the House must be maintained. You know what it does. And you know you're not supposed to do anything to jeopardize that.' He pointed at the doll, still clutched in his father's fingers. 'What's that, Dad?'
'It's none of your damn business.'
'She gave it to you. It's hers. You're busy trying to keep me from going anywhere or doing anything with her, pretending that she's not good enough for our family, and you're seeing her behind my back. She's a child, Dad. A child.'
His father shook his head. He looked suddenly old.
'She's no child,' he said.
'And we're only trying to protect you,' his mother said. 'She is a bad influence.'
'Then how come you keep seeing her yourselves?'
Neither of them answered.
'Don't you want it back the way it was? The way it used to be?'
'It can't go back,' his father said.
'Why not?'
'Because it's gone too far.'
'No,' Stormy said. 'Not yet it hasn't.'
'You're wrong.' His father looked down at the doll in his hand. 'You don't understand.'
'What don't I understand?'
'I fucked her, okay?' There was anger in his voice.
'I fucked her ass.'
Stormy stared at him.
His voice dropped to a whisper. 'Now I'm hers forever.'
'No.' Stormy grabbed the doll from his father, threw it onto the ground. He felt shaken, sickened. It was one thing to suspect something or to know it deductively, and it was quite another to be confronted with its specifics outright, but still he pressed on. 'You have a choice, Dad. You always have a choice. Right now, you're just choosing to give up, choosing to give in. You can break free if you want to. There's nothing binding you to Donielle . Tell her to fuck off. Take control of your life, for God's sake.'
'I can't,' his father said weakly.
'Look at Mom.' He motioned toward his mother, wearing the oversized cutoff suit. 'Look what's happened to her, what she's become. And you know why!
You know what's done this to her! Don't you even care enough about her to put a stop to this?'
On the floor, the doll shifted, rolled onto its side.
Stormy was not sure whether it had moved of its own accord or it had simply landed on a precarious angle and was settling, but the motion frightened him anyway, and he kicked the doll as hard as he could, watching it slide across the hardwood floor and under the desk. There were goose bumps on his arms, and he saw that both of his parents were looking under the desk at the figure.
'Donielleasked me to marry her,' Stormy said.
That brought them back.
His father's gaze snapped onto his, and there was anger on his face, confusion beneath the anger, fear beneath the confusion. His mother gasped, clapped a hand to her mouth.
'She knows you forbid me to talk to her, and she suggested we elope. She said she wants to take me away from the House'--he paused--'and away from you.'
'She . . . she can't!' his father exclaimed.
His mother began quietly sobbing.
'She thinks she can,' Stormy said, but he was suddenly uncertain as to whether his parents were upset because they didn't want to lose him--or didn't want to lose her.
He took a deep breath. 'Is she more important to you than me?'
'No!' his mother said, shocked.
'Of course not, son.'
'Then what if I told you that you had to choose?
What if I said it's either her or me?'
His father's face clouded over. 'She's trying to break up the family.'
'Who would you choose?'
'It's not that little slut who's causing all the problems,'
his mother announced.
Stormy turned to her. 'Who is it, then?'
'It's the bone monster,' she said, eyes widening.
His father stared at him silently, looking lost.
'Would you choose me, Dad?'
A tear rolled down his father's right cheek. 'I would if I could.'
Stormy smiled at them sadly. 'I love you,' he said.
'I love you both.'
For a moment, his mother's gaze was lucid, his father's expression softened. 'We love you, too,' his mother told him, putting her arms around him. His father nodded.
A chime rang out, a deeply resonant almost churchy sound. The doorbell.
'Billingham!' his father bellowed.
His mother pulled away from him.
Another chime.
'Billingham!'
Stormy sighed. 'I'll get it,' he said.
He walked out of the den and down the hall to the foyer. The doorbell rang again, and he sped up, unlocking and opening the door.
A girl was standing on the porch in front of him.
Donielle.
He caught his breath at the sight of her. He was an adult now and she was a child, but the feelings she evoked within him were the same as those engendered all those years ago. His heart was racing, and there was a pleasant tingling in his groin. Despite everything he knew, despite everything that had happened, the attraction was still there, and his first impulse was to reach out and grab her hands and hold them in his. He wanted to touch her, but he held back, remained holding on to the door. 'Yes?' he said coldly.
'Oh, Stormy!' She rushed forward, threw her arms around him, and against his will his body responded.
Beneath his jeans, his growing penis pressed against her midsection, and she held him tighter, rubbing herself against it.
Stormy grabbed her arms, pulled her away from him.
'What's the matter?' she said, looking up at him. Her eyes were full of hurt innocence.
He steeled himself. 'You know what's the matter.'
'I love you, Stormy.'
He held on to her arms, looked away from her face.
'I don't love you.'
'I don't like what you're trying to do.'
'I'm on your side! I'm the one who told you you have to stand up for yourself, you can't let your family boss you around and make all your decisions!'
