Broken Dolls (11 page)

“I’m going upstairs to say goodnight to Ella,” Gabby calls to the professor.

“Hey!” I hiss from the purse. “Why’d you say that?”

“What?” She breathes. “He’s going to hear me go into the attic anyway and wonder what I’m doing!”

“But now he’ll come running up here!”

On cue, hurried footsteps follow us upstairs. “No! She’s probably asleep! Don’t disturb her!”

“Run!”

I position myself in the purse to avoid the pending earthquake. Gabby bolts for the door, jiggling the handle until it unlatches. The door swings closed behind her, and she crashes into a box in the dark. She grunts and hops through the pain until she reaches the chest. She drops me onto my bed and kneels beside the chest, breathing heavily through her nose. “Get in the bed! He’ll see your dress! Hide!”

Of course! I dive under the covers and nuzzle into the pillow, attempting to look dazed by my alleged interrupted sleep.

“Gabrielle!” The professor trips over the same fallen box. His hair is crazed, wild, and his words run into one another. “What are you doing? Why did you close the door?”

Gabby places a tender finger to her lips and points to me.

“Shh. You’ll wake Ella. You’re right, Grandpa, I should’ve let her sleep. Let’s go to bed.” Gabby clears her throat and stands on tiptoes to kiss the professor’s cheek.

She leaves the attic, and the professor remains confused and motionless, swaying above the chest. I stare up at him from my bed, only now noticing his change of attire. I’m so accustomed to seeing him in drab clothes that I almost don’t recognize him in his collared shirt and dress pants. He looks quite presentable–handsome, almost.

When he looks down at me, I close my eyes and pretend to be asleep. He doesn’t bother to kiss me goodnight like he usually does.

He knows…

fold the dress Gabby gave me into a neat square on the end of the bed and slip back into my leotard. My tutu is still caught on the chair where Lisa tried to track me down, and I don’t really want to leave the safety of the chest to retrieve it.

It’s actually kind of boring alone in the chest. I’ve never really spent that much time in it. I always have free reign of the attic to watch TV, paint, and look through the window. In here, there’s literally nothing to do but pull faces in the mirror. Even then, my plastic skin can’t do much. I’ve mastered raising one eyebrow at a time, but that’s the extent of my facial versatility.

“It must be horrible only having one hand.”

I feel like I’ve just been thrown into an icy lake. I remain stiff on the bed, unable to glance over my shoulder. “I found it for you.” The voice is kind, soft…
fake
.

I place my hand on my chest when a tiny drum pounds from the inside. My heart is beating… “How?” I ask breathlessly, my pulse racing.

“Before the professor put the plastic box over the chest, I came in and hid under the bed.” Lisa crawls over the covers to sit next to me. “I needed to talk to you. Did you have fun at the ballet?”

“No,” I reply, only able to respond one word at a time. My eyes widen at Lisa who holds my detached hand in her lap. She lifts it and screws it into my stump, her expression not as ominous as it had been yesterday.

“No? That’s not good.” She inspects my hand to ensure it’s in place. “Why not?”

I stare at her, unable to close my mouth. My pulse subsides to inexistence again, but my limbs still feel cold.

Lisa sighs and sweeps her fringe to the side, then sits back with her hands squeezed between her knees. “I’m so sorry.” She shakes her head, blinking at the ground. “I don’t know what came over me. You have to understand I wasn’t myself. I’m not coping with this human-to-doll transition thing. My brain… it’s like it’s not working properly. Maybe, it never worked properly in my human form. I don’t know.”

Of course, she isn’t coping. It’s been an eternity, but I’m starting to resent being a doll myself.

“I found something when I explored the attic the other day,” Lisa continues. I flinch when she puts her hand on my knee and instinctively inch away from her, but she doesn’t seem to notice and only leans closer. “It sparked something. I think, that’s why I went crazy. I need to show you.”

“Just tell me.” My voice cracks as I speak. There’s something about the distressed way Lisa talks that doesn’t make me question her.

The attic door creaks open, and the lights turn on. Lisa leaps from her position and crawls beneath the bed. I remain in place and smile when the professor appears. He lifts the plastic box and bends over to stroke my hair.

“Professor? It’s the middle of the night. Can’t you sleep?”

“No.” His voice is gravelly, and his eyes have dark rings beneath them, as if he’s been awake for days. “I didn’t say goodnight to you, and it troubled me.”

I smile, the coldness in my limbs slowly fading away. “Goodnight, professor.”

He removes his glasses and cleans them with his cardigan. “Truth be told, there was an ulterior motive to my visit. I made you something.” He digs in the pocket of his cord pants and pulls out a tiny, white plastic necklace with a red button. He throws it over my head and grins. “That’s a panic button, just in case Lisa shows up and you need help.”

I stroke the edges of the button by my throat. Should I press it right now? One tiny slip, and Lisa would be history.

Reluctantly, I drop my hands to my waist. I can’t kill Lisa. Not yet. Not when she claims to know something revolutionary. The professor frowns.

“You found your hand?”

I panic, but only for a second. “Yeah. Can you believe it was in the chest the whole time? Silly me!” I’m getting way too used to lying.

“Oh,” the professor says, the skepticism in his voice painfully obvious. “So, what did you get up to whilst we were away?”

I shrug. “Just the usual. I slept, I danced. Nothing to report.”

“I’m sure.” He looks down his nose at me. “Well, then. Goodnight, my broken doll.”

“Thanks for the button, professor,” I say as I watch him take long, unhurried steps to the light switch.

Once he turns out the lamp and closes the door, Lisa pops up. “Get rid of that stupid thing!”

I position my finger on the button threateningly. “Tell me what’s going on.”

She scrunches her hair with her hands, as if about to pull it out. “I told you, I have to show you!”

“Don’t think I won’t press it.” I feel surprisingly powerful with my button. This is a much better weapon than that rusted nail I tried to use yesterday.

Lisa huffs and rubs her shoulders. “You’re not going to believe me unless I show you.”

“Tell me first, and then I’ll decide whether I want to see it,” I say diplomatically.

“There’s
another
doll,” Lisa blurts. She slumps over and flicks her shoelace. “Another
human
doll who remembers her past life. Here, in this attic.”

My eyes flutter while I try to process the information. “Sorry?”

Lisa flops her head into her hands and groans. “See! I knew you wouldn’t believe me!”

“I’m just… trying to understand.” It’s like I’ve temporarily forgotten how to speak English. “How come we never knew about her?”

“That’s what I want to know.” Lisa’s eyes narrow as she drops her voice. “The professor isn’t all hugs and kittens. He’s evil. Who in their right mind would take an ordinary girl and make her a doll, confining them to an attic? It’s preposterous!”

I fiddle with my recently attached hand. “Where is she?”

“She’s in a box… in another box… a shoebox.” Lisa rolls her eyes. “That
professor
had her in solitary confinement for years! I don’t know what sick game he’s playing, but he’s dressed her just like him. She has a lab coat, glasses, everything!”

I clench my hands into fists and whip up. “You’re lying. Take me to her right now!”

Lisa smirks and stands so that she’s at my eyelevel. “I’d hoped you’d say that. Ladies first.” She motions towards the ladder out of the chest.

I shoot her a disgusted look before I climb onto the ladder. The plastic box has a gap between the chest and the floor, so I slide down and squeeze until I’m wedged free.

Lisa follows closely behind with a triumphant smirk. “Careful with that button. Seriously, don’t press it, otherwise we’ll never get to the bottom of this. Now follow me!”

Lisa takes small steps, but walks quickly, like someone desperate to go to the bathroom. She heads towards the dark corner–the same one I escaped through the mouse hole. Oh, that was horrid! What am I even doing following her? This must be a trap! I’m so stupid…

A foreign language breaks up my pity-fest. It’s in low murmurs and never stops for a break. I look at Lisa for reassurance, but she only raises her finger to her lips. She leads me through the gaps between the towering boxes until we reach a small space. A flashlight leans against one of the boxes, several paintbrushes, a pile of tissues, and a doll sitting with her knees pressed against her chest, rocking backward and forth. Her hair is long, messy, and grey with dust. Her lab coat looks like it used to be white, but it’s covered in grime and dead bugs.

“Forty seven hundred thousand, three hundred and twenty two… no!” She hits her temples with her fists. “No, no, no! Forty seven hundred thousand, three hundred and ninety, ninety… no!”

“She remembers you,” Lisa whispers.

My whole world shifts and collapses beneath my feet. My heart shatters at the thought of this poor woman being locked away for years.

Lisa was right. The professor is evil.

I creep closer, incapable of speaking.

“Hey,” Lisa says slightly louder, clicking her fingers to grab the doll’s attention. The doll’s head shoots up, and she cackles like a witch.

“You’re back! They said I’d be alone, be alone again, you know? You do know. Ha… you always know.” She speaks quickly at first, until her tone swiftly shifts from fast-paced to suspicious. The doll turns her nose in the air. “I see you brought the chosen one?”

“Sianne, this is Ella. There’s something you want to tell her, isn’t there?” Lisa speaks cautiously.

Sianne sniffs, like some kind of wild animal. I highly doubt she can actually smell anything. “
Ella
…” She says, before muttering something incoherent, then puts her hands to the ground and slides her feet so that she is sitting at a right angle. “My dear Ella! My long-lost daughter!”

My chest suddenly feels tight. Sianne’s my mother? I have a family? That can’t be right…

“Well?” Sianne taps her fingers impatiently. “Come, child! Don’t delay our reunion!”

I don’t move. “You’re not my mother.”

“And how would you know?” Lisa snaps. “You don’t remember your human life!”

“I know.” I watch Sianne. The professor painted our faces similarly. We have the same color eyes and nose–the only disparity is the mole above her lip. Her wig reaches her waist, thick layers clumping together–it’s a botched job. She looks just like me. “But she’s not my mother.”

When I don’t budge, Sianne stands and shuffles over to me, tilting her head to the side. “We watched the full moon rise, and then began the lies. Imagine our surprise, when I ordered curly fries. No…” She growls and taps her head. “We went over this, Sianne! That’s not how the story goes!”