I’m not used to feeling like this—I’m accustomed to being in control, with only rage and hatred fueling my insides as I struggle to navigate through the tumult of emotions. That is not the case now, not since I met my little doll. This godforsaken note only amplifies the turmoil within my tainted soul.
I remain fixated on the note for what feels like an eternity, my hands eventually ceasing their trembling. “Uncover the connection”…What does he mean? Why couldn’t he just tell me? I quickly push the thoughts aside, not wanting to drag Naya back into her horrible past.
Tranquility and a sense of finality settle over me, masking the rawness of emotions that had gripped me moments before. In place of the hurt at the abandonment is a certain numbness.
A muffled mumble comes from somewhere in the room, and I glance over at Naya as she shifts uncomfortably in her sleep. Her brow furrows, whispering in a broken voice. ”No…please, please...no!”
Beads of sweat form on her forehead, amplifying the nightmare I know she must be having. But I cannot find it in me to move, to help, or wake her. I’m stuck staring at her, trapped within the confines of my mind, all because of the numbness that has taken over every inch of me.
Suddenly, a piercing scream tears through the room. It’s raw, twisted, laden with anguish. Tears stream down her cheeks, and I feel the slice of an invisible knife moving inside me.
I wish I could vanquish the demons haunting her dreams, but I can’t. Not when I can’t even slaughter my own that make me numb without the possibility of moving. So I watch, guilt gnawing at me, clutching the crumpled note in my hand.
At four in the morning, a flurry of movement catches my eye. A smaller body springs from the bed, rushing to the bathroom and sinking to her knees. She retches until there’s nothing leftin her, slumping against the wall. Then, she stands on her legs while wiping her mouth with toilet paper, entering the room again.
She stares at the bed, as if now realizing it’s empty, until she sees my silhouette sitting on a chair by the window. Wearily, she approaches me.
“You were screaming,” I state simply, one leg stretched out, the other bent with my hand resting lightly on my knee.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, eyes drifting to the floor and her bare feet on the cold carpet.
She meets my gaze, exhaustion more than evident in her mismatched orbs. The usual brightness I see in them is diminished, replaced by a glazed look with slow blinking, as if she’s fighting off the fatigue. After seconds of silence, I shift my attention to the outside world before gently pulling her closer. I settle her in my lap, needing her near, finding solace in her familiar scent. I intertwine my fingers with hers.
“Did I wake you?” she asks, her voice tight.
“I never slept.”
It still feels surreal having her here, in my arms, after so long apart, not knowing if we would ever make it out alive.Eighteen months.It’s been over a year since leaving Dankworth Institute and being thrust into the dollhouse, where even worse things awaited.
“What’s this?” she asks, noticing the note in my hand.
“Daxton left it for me.” I meet her gaze, numbness spreading through me like a virus. “He did all this to save me from the dollhouse, but why do I still feel betrayed?”
I cannot mask the hurt in my voice—she knows me too well.
“You’re allowed to feel betrayed. Why aren’t you asleep?”
“I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I seethem.” My voice breaks at the end, remembering those left behind.
I fucking hate feeling. It was so much easier just being entirelynumb, with anger as my sole companion.
She gazes up at my hair, dragging her hand through it. Over the past year, it’s grown out, the raven color more visible than the red dye I once applied. I need a haircut, maybe to dye it again.
“I feel it too. I don’t think it will stop hurting. Does anything ever?” Her voice is a whisper against my lips, filled with brokenness. My beautiful tainted doll. “We live in a world full of torment and horrors, yet we’re expected to wear a brave façade while we crumble inside. It fucking hurts to live, and that’s the worst of it all.”
We sit in silence, the sound of our breaths a comforting reminder that we are truly alive, at last back in each other’s arms. At times, it feels like this is all a dream—a beautifully morbid experience that changed my life and made me a better version of myself. Yet, even if it is a beautiful dream, I know it’s one I will eventually wake from, and then this will all become a faded memory, long forgotten.
“I feel the echoes of your anguish reverberating through my soul, leaving scars that will never heal. But it’s okay, my little doll. I was meant to carry pain forever, and you were meant to mend my broken pieces.”
In the darkness, we cling to each other, knowing that even the brightest stars fade into oblivion, leaving behind nothing but a vast expanse of space. She traces the tattoos that adorn my arm until her fingers find the eagle surrounded by flames on my wrist. Lightly, she circles the scar underneath, causing me to shudder. I remember the story I told her about my childhood, the pain inflicted by my father for reasons no child should endure.
“Come to bed with me,” she says, standing up and peering down at me.
I sigh, but don’t resist as she gently tugs at my arms, guidingme to the bed. She snuggles up to me, her exhaustion palpable, while a heavy, unspoken burden hangs in the air.
Human contact is such a precious thing, never to be taken for granted. It can disappear in an instant, just when you think the world is within your grasp. I can’t remember the last time we slept like this, alone together, our bodies intertwined with more than just physical closeness. Sleeping beside someone else feels much more intimate than mere sex—a sheer connection that combines the heart and soul, until it’s one single entity.
With her by my side, exhaustion finally claims me, and I’m unaware of the subtle scratching and tapping sounds outside on the windowpanes. I surrender to the oblivion of sleep, without realizing the dangers lurking outside.
