Page 30 of Cracked Doll

I glance behind me. He's there. Watching. Utterly calm.

Standing amidst the whimsical toys and colorful displays, he looks utterly terrifying—a dark stain on a childhood dream.

"Oh my God," I breathe.

"God can't save you from me, Ophelia," he purrs, quiet, almost gentle, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "Not tonight. Not ever."

And then, faint and tinny through the receiver already pressed to my ear, a voice answers.

The operator's voice crackles through the line, urgent and professional. "Emergency services, what is your emergency?”

‎"There's a man in my shop!" I sob, my voice breaking. "He's been stalking me... please, he's here right now!"‎

‎"Are you in immediate danger, ma'am?"

‎

‎"Yes! Yes, please hurry! Come save me! I'm Ophelia. I called before."‎

‎"What is your location?"‎

‎"The Tin Heart... I'm at The Tin Heart toy shop! Please, just hurry!"‎

‎"Help is on the way, Ophelia. We have dispatched officers to your location. Find somewhere safe to hide and do not hang up the phone. Stay on the line with me, I'm right here."

Before I can even breathe a sigh of relief, Rhys moves. He lunges forward and rips the receiver from my hand.

"Listen up, emergency service," he says into the phone, his tone mocking and cold. "You're going to hear it all. You can listen to every single thing I'm planning to do to Ophelia before your boys ever get through the door."

The operator begins to protest, her voice sounding nervous, trying to negotiate, but Rhys doesn't give her the chance. He places the receiver flat on the wooden counter, facing up, so the operator is forced to be a witness to everything.

I bring the knife up, pointing it at his chest. "Leave! Get the fuck out of my shop or I'll kill you! I swear to God, I'll fucking do it!"

Rhys just grins, a slow, twisted expression. "That's it, doll. Show me that fire."

I scream and charge at him, swinging the knife with everything I have. He's too fast. In one fluid motion, he catches my wrist, twists it until I gasp and drop the weapon, and suddenly, the cold steel of my own knife is pressed firmly against my throat.‎

‎"I love it when you fight back when it's me haunting you," he whispers, his lips almost touching my ear. "But I fucking hate how you crumble when it's your own reflection. I'm going to teach you how to bring that same fire to the mirror."

‎He drags the flat of the blade slowly down my throat, the metal chilling my skin. "I want to feel your throat... I want to feel it vibrate while you scream for me."

‎"What... what do you mean?" I whisper, trembling.

‎"Get on your knees," he commands.

‎In the background, the operator is still talking, her voice tinny and desperate from the phone on the counter. "Please, don't do anything! Ophelia, hold on, the police are almost there! Just stay calm!"

‎Rhys completely ignores her. He looks down at me, his eyes darkening. "Get on your knees willingly, Ophelia, or I'll put you there myself. And trust me, you won't like the way I do it."

‎I can't look him in the eye. I can't. I slowly sink to the floor, my knees hitting the hard wood of the shop.

‎"Good doll," he murmurs.

‎I hear the sound of his belt unbuckling, the rasp of a zipper. I look up, and my breath catches. He pulls his cock out, and it's fucking monstrous. It's a huge, thick slab of meat, pulsing with a life of its own. The head is a deep, angry purple, already glistening and oozing with thick, clear pre-cum that drips slowly down the shaft. It looks vein-riven and heavy, a brutal contrast to the delicate toys surrounding us.

‎I stare at it, terrified and inexplicably aroused, as the operator continues to plead into the silence of the room.

I stare up at him without looking into his eyes, my breath coming in shallow, jagged gasps. He doesn't give me a moment to recover. He reaches down and begins slapping his cock against my lips—thwack, thwack—the heavy, hot meat hitting my mouth with a rhythmic, humiliating force. I can feel him hardening further; he was already semi-erect, but now he’s pulsing, growing even larger, the veins standing out like cords under the skin. It looks monstrous, an impossible amount of flesh that makes my stomach tighten with a fresh wave of terror.