“We don’t want your kind around here,” I replied, my voice not sounding like my own, but disconnected and cruel.
“I ain’t doing no harm small fry,” he answered, a pain filled smile gracing his lips, “I’m just hungry and here’s got the good stuff that gets thrown away. Might be trash for you, but for me it’s like eating at the country club.”
I softened slightly. I had never known hunger or having to do without. I got everything I wanted without even having to ask, it was a given.
“Don’t go soft on me Caspian!” the doll urged, “weasels aren’t kind, they’re vicious. This is your test to see if your worthy to wear the mask and if you will be able to do what’s needed to avenge what’s happened in the past.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, feeling confused and unsure.
“You will learn in time. For now, I need you to show me how strong you are. Can you do that?” I nodded,feeling tearful. I wanted to go home. I wanted Isabella to sing me to sleep.
Suddenly, a strange feeling came over me. I felt like someone else was moving my body. I heard an animalistic howl and was stunned when I realized it came from me. I jumped on top of the man, and he tried to push me off whilst also ensuring not to injure me since I was a kid. But I wanted to hurt him. I slashed at his arms, the blood splattering all over me, but I didn’t care. The warm liquid spurred me on, making me feel invigorated. Frenzied, I used the bottle to rip at his cheeks; bits of his skin coated the glass, and his eyes were wide with abject terror. He began to cough, his mouth filled with blood, but I carried on and he was either in shock or resigned to the fact that I was going to kill him.
Gleefully, I began to laugh and sang my song again, the doll pirouetting and dancing animatedly, singing in unison.
Hear the gargle, feel the drip, gushing from your temple. No remorse and no regret, pop goes the weasel!
I leapt into the air and aimed for the man’s head. The bottle hit home, piercing his temple. He began to convulse, and his eyes fluttered as he lost consciousness, along with copious amounts of blood. There was a warm pool of the stuff all around him, the spicy scent of it overwhelmed the stink of his filthy body and stained clothes. He was still alive,albeit barely.
“OK Caspian, finish him,” said the doll, her teeth looking larger and more pointed than before. I sprung into the air for the final time and rammed the bottle into his neck where it broke in two and the blood shot up into the air, hitting me in the face. The man breathed out a blood drenched death rattle and then he was still.
I stood up and looked at my hands, rubbing them together and enjoying the consistency of the blood that coated them.
“Well done. You are worthy,” the doll said pleased, “when it’s time I know you’ll be ready.”
“Can we go home now? I’m tired,” I said, yawning. I took off the mask and handed it back to the doll. She took my hand, and we walked home.
“You can’t tell anybody about this,” she warned, “it’s our secret.” I figured this was just a dream, so technically, it didn’t matter, so I readily agreed.
“Are we best friends now?” I said, my voice sounding innocent and childlike once more.
“Yes,” the doll chortled happily, “I will always look out for you Caspian, no matter what. You can trust me. Nothing will ever happen to you if you follow my guidance and do exactly what the Dollmaker wants.”
“Who’s the Dollmaker?” I questioned.
“I will tell you in time,” she said cryptically as we climbed the grand staircase back to the safety of myroom. We got snuggled back into bed and exhaustion consumed me. Just before I drifted off, I turned to face the doll and gently kissed her cheek.
“Goodnight. What’s your name?” I asked sleepily.
“It’s Bess,” she replied and with that I drifted off into a deep sleep.
* * *
“Caspian! Get up this instant!” My mom’s shrill voice squealed, making me wake up with a start, “what’s all this mess all over the carpet?! You’ve trodden dirt all through the house! And what were you doing wandering around outside at night?!” She yanked the duvet back and blanched when she saw that I had cuts all over my feet. Panicked, I glanced down and saw that I had on a different pair of pajamas than when I went to sleep. I was baffled. Who had changed my PJs?
“I’m sorry mommy,” I said, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, “I guess I must have been sleepwalking.”
Mom then noticed Bess sat comfortably in my bed.
“What’s this doing here?!” she snarled and picked Bess up launching her against the wall, “this thing gives me the creeps! I’m getting rid of it. You have plenty of new toys to play with. You don’t need this horrible thing!”
I dashed forward and picked up Bess, noticing that she now had a hairline crack on her facefrom hitting the wall. Mom tried to pull her from my hands.
“No mommy! She’s my friend!” I wailed.
“Caspian I give you everything you want, but I’m not having you getting attached to a doll, You’re a boy. I don’t want a gay boy for a son!” And with that, she prised Bess from my aching grip and stalked out of the room, leaving me in floods of tears and feeling afraid because I didn’t know what was real anymore.
As I wiped my tears, I noticed a red bundle slightly poking out from under the lid of my wooden toy box. I lifted the lid, and there, screwed up amongst my childhood diversions were my blood-soaked tartan pajamas.
