“The master was angry at someone, and he took it out on me for being awake so early.”
The exhaustion in her eyes dulls the usual sparkle.
“You need to rest,” I whisper, not wanting to break our peaceful stillness.
She nods in response before I tuck her under the flowery sheets and kiss her forehead. Everlee always breaks down whenever she sees another child lose their life, which is inevitable in a place like this. I, on the other hand, am accustomed to such horrors. I’m used to the brutal fate people can suffer, all the pain, blood, and psychopaths this world consists of. There is no greater evil than those living among us.
After taking a deep breath and exhaling, I go outside, feeling the pain in my neck that reminds me of what the master did earlier. I still have no clue what he injected us with.
To avoid the master’s wrath, I must quickly make my way to the parlor and sit nervously in anticipation of the day ahead. This is the day of his fine visits, where doll masters come to pick out and collect their playthings.
I sit at the table again and find Aurora seated in the same place as before, a scowl between her eyebrows as if she is bothered by something. We all are. After a few minutes pass, the scowl vanishes as I watch her become wholly engrossed in the book and its narrative.
With nothing to occupy my mind, I feel all the memories coming back in a terrible blur, something trying to take me from the inside out, devour my soul and steal it away. Whenever I feel boredom take over, the feelings return, and with all its logic, my wild imagination is thrown into the forefront of my mind like a plane crash.
My ears pick up the sound of a horrible laugh reminiscent of small stone rattles. A thawing laugh full of emptiness and mockery.
Flashes of memories pile up in my head as if several cameras are taking pictures at the same time, and their flashes hurt my eyes. My mind is still flooding with images ofherlaughing as they stripped me of everything that made me human. She just stood there with amusement plastered all over her.
I will never forget the day I lost her forever, the betrayal she put me through that haunts me even today, every night in my nightmares.
I feel my fingers itching with the need to hurt someone innocent, as I once was. Why do I have to be the only one suffering with the monsters in my head?
I’m suddenly filled with a vision that seems too real.
She stands in front of me, her clothes torn with several wounds on her arms, leaking only a red liquid, and it falls onto the carpet and forms a pool below. Despite that, she has a satisfied smile on her lips, as if she is proud of what she’s done. She smiles the kind of smile that makes me chill inside; her otherwise white teeth filled with the same red liquid, and I realize what it is.
Blood.
A maniacal laugh rips from her throat as she comes even closer to me. The laughter echoes in my ears. Her footsteps thump as she approaches me.
As I take in the sight of the person in front of me, my shouts are replaced by stunned silence. No one is there anymore. I hear the cheerful sounds of children’s laughter and take a deep breath, trying to quell my fear.
It wasn’t real.
But is any of this even real?
Despite my best efforts, my mind is slowly but surely being taken over by my inner demons as I am dragged down into the depths of hell.
Chapter 3
Naya
Cold sweat breaks outon my forehead as I stare around the hall, entirely paranoid and in fear of a certain someone being near me. I haven’t spotted the master yet, but I know I have to do something before I spot him, before he finds me here and confronts me about not being at the game. My nerves are on edge at the possibility of him knowing about it. I’m always like this whenever I’ve escaped a game, but I’m never confronted. Sooner or later, my luck will slip.
I cannot help but worry about being punished for this; maybe he will throw me down that basement where he punishes his most disobedient dolls. It’s a horrible place where all the bad dollies are taken for improving their behavior, which only leaves them more broken than before, a reason why everyone tries to be on their best behavior. The shadows that lurk in the rotting manor are a welcome reprieve from the death the master exposes us to.
My breathing is shallow as I contemplate that fate. I cannot go back there, not again. I need to hide before he lays his eyes on me. Fear is a fiery pain threatening to rip my heart apart.
I’m so goddamn weak.
It wasn’t a good idea to disobey his orders, so why the fuck did I do that?
I’m screwed, so fucking screwed, and there is no way out of this now.
One day my survival instincts will be the cause of my death, maybe on a day when he finds me and deems me useless for his entertainment. My days here are numbered.
As I glance around the room, I hear the children’s laughter and chatter and notice the paintings on the walls as if they silently judge me. Maybe they are spies of the master.
