Broken Dolls

by Kitty Thomas

  She’d gone for the interview, and now it was over. She’d find another therapist and move on.

  ***

  Mina nearly broke her neck getting out of the shower to answer the phone. Dr. Smith’s number flashed on her screen.

  “You missed your appointment, Monday. Are you sick?”

  “No, I’m fine,” she said.

  “Why weren’t you here?”

  The way he said it made her feel as if she’d done something horrifically wrong, something that called for punishment. The latter thought made her cringe.

  “I just thought that under the circumstances, maybe I should find another doctor.”

  There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. “What circumstances would those be? I’m confused.” He didn’t sound confused.

  Now it was her turn to be silent because she couldn’t give voice to the rejection.

  “By the way,” he said, “Anton and I finally had a chance to speak. I was going to tell you yesterday, but you decided not to show up. I considered not contacting you at all, but I’ve had time to calm down. Meet me at the office.”

  “Now?” she squeaked.

  “No, next year. Of course, now. Right now. I expect you sitting across from me in thirty minutes or I will be extremely disappointed.”

  “B-but it’s eleven at night.” She’d been about ready to put on her pajamas and eat some cookie dough ice cream. These were big plans for a Thursday night.

  “Thirty minutes.”

  The line went dead. She stared at the phone wondering what would happen if she didn’t show up. He had her address in his files. Would he send goons to her apartment? Would he come himself? Was he feeling antsy that she might talk to the cops about him?

  She still wasn’t sure what she could say even if she wanted to report him. What was she reporting him for, exactly? He’d been just vague enough that anything she said was going to sound stupid. They’d probably laugh her out of the station or charge her with something for wasting their time. She could report Anton, but for what? She hadn’t paid him. Weren’t massage therapists allowed to have consensual sexual interactions with people who weren’t paying them? Like everybody else? Besides, nothing of note had happened.

  What if they’d rejected her but now the doctor felt skittish about what little non-information she had about his vague but possibly illegal activities?

  As she entertained these possibilities, she bypassed her pajamas for a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. She didn’t bother with anything nice. She was sure being late would be worse than the horror of him seeing her in ratty jeans.

  Thirty minutes later, she sat exactly where he’d told her to be, feeling like a teenager in the principal’s office. She hadn’t realized until now that her nice blouses and pencil skirts and heels and red lipstick had been her armor. It made her feel powerful and strong enough to exist in the same space with him for an hour at a time.

  That power had been traded for a pony tail and scuffed tennis shoes.

  “Laundry day?” Lindsay asked from his side of the desk.

  “It’s eleven-thirty.”

  “Yes. You made it. I had considered not making the offer since you so rudely missed our appointment yesterday, but Anton and I spoke and he believes we can place you with a proper master if you are still interested in pursuing this.”

  She hadn’t expected that. “I-I don’t know if I can do it.”

  “Fine. Leave. Hide away in your cocoon. Avoid men. Avoid relationships. Avoid yourself. What do I care?”

  Here it was: the moment when he turned on her to reveal the beast behind the civilized facade. She cringed and braced herself, ready to throw her arms up in a lame and ineffective self-defense pose if necessary.

  She hadn’t realized she’d squeezed her eyes shut until his warm hands were on her arms.

  “You’re clenching the leather. It was just reupholstered,” he said, disengaging her fingernails from the arm rest. “I know you’re scared, and I’m not helping. The truth is, I have a lot to lose, too. I let you leave my presence after giving you enough rope to possibly hang me with. It was foolish. And now the only thing that can make any of this okay for everyone is if you’ll just take that one small step. Just trust me one more time to get you from point A to B. You will be happy at the end of this process if you’ll just trust me.”

  He was as good as admitting to being a criminal. Why should she trust a criminal?

  “Did Anton hurt you?” he asked.

  “No.” She desperately wanted to call him Sir. In spite of all the things she’d been through, there was a peace in that title. In any title. At least until they turned on her.

  “Anton said you were very excited. Very responsive.”

  She was always excited in the beginning when things were new and the mask of kindness was still in place.

  “If I agreed to be matched with someone, how do I know I would be safe? What if he only seemed okay, and then he started hurting me later?”

  Lindsay returned to his side of the desk. “We routinely check in with our girls. Early on, it’s once a week, then once a month, then every few months. When we’re sure everything is fine, it’s a yearly video call. Whoever buys you will have a contract with us. The contract may not be enforceable by law, but they know the consequences of breaking it. We will handle anyone foolish enough to break our contract and get the girl out of there. We don’t have to do it often because we screen carefully.”

  “What if he threatens me, and I say everything is okay because I’m scared of him?”

  “We visit in person. Not me, but it will be someone who is fully capable of handling any issue that may arise. We will remove you from a bad situation.”

  Mina’s brain finally caught up with part of what the doctor said. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t suspected as much, but to hear it was another thing. “Buy? Someone would be buying me?”

  “Yes. Do you think we do this out of some charitable urge?”

  “Would I be seeing any of this money?”

  “Not a penny.”

  “What if I say no?”

  Lindsay’s face appeared smooth and unrippled, mild and untroubled. But his fingers gripped his own newly reupholstered leather. “Then you can go home.” His voice was tight.

  “Would you still see me as a patient?”

  He relaxed a fraction. “If you wish.”

  Of course, because then he could keep tabs on her and know if she could still be trusted. He’d know the moment she had an urge to fill out a police report.

  She wanted to know if he’d been this open with other prospects. Somehow she doubted it, and she was afraid to make him any more skittish.

  “Mina? I’ve risked myself and my safety because I care about you. I care that you are happy and safe and protected, and that your life works out for you in all the ways you’ve ever dreamed without the ugly things that have cast a shadow over you. You’ve been coming here for a while now. You obviously feel safe enough to be alone with me. If you can just place your trust in me a little further, I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted. I promise you.”

  She’d be lying if she said his impassioned speech had no effect. Whether her instincts were right or wrong on this, she did trust him. And if anyone could ensure no one ever hurt her again, she trusted Lindsay could. He radiated a confident power that she’d yet to encounter. If there was such a thing, he was the real deal.

  And if he was the real deal, then he knew where to find more of his kind.

  “What would happen if I said yes?”

  “If you agree, you will go home tonight and pack your bags. Pack anything you have any strong attachment to because you won’t be returning. A car will pick you up and take you to an estate where you will be trained, and a match will be found for you. At that point, once we’ve screened him properly and he’s signed all our paperwork and paid for you, you will be turned over to his care.”

  No. This is madness. Unless you have an absolute dea
th wish, this is not the way.

  But the place inside her that Jason hadn’t yet killed—the place Anton had briefly touched—cried out for the hope that the kind of master Lindsay described could be real and that somehow this mystery man could undo everything those before him had done. She’d been barely existing since Jason. As fucked up and horrible as it was with him, as uncertain and abusive… she didn’t know how to be normal anymore.

  “I live at the estate,” Lindsay continued, oblivious to her inner struggle. “As does Anton. You will meet other girls. No one will do anything we talked about in your limits, or they will face consequences.”

  “Why do you do this?”

  “Find a need and fill it. Business 101. Do we have a deal, Mina?” The devil smiled at her as the devil does when he’s about to take your soul in a pact signed with blood.

  “I…” She wanted to say yes. As insane as it was she wanted to believe this wasn’t the worst thing she could agree to.

  “Go home and pack your things. A car will be by for you at seven in the evening. Get into the car and start a new life. Or don’t. I’ll instruct the driver to leave at seven-thirty with or without you.”

  Chapter Two

  Mina paced the apartment. She’d packed her luggage: clothes, toiletries, and a few items of sentimental value that she couldn’t part with—mostly old photos and an ornate silver ring with small black stones that her grandmother had given her before she’d passed away.

  She still remembered her grandmother taking the ring off and placing it in her hand. “I’m not long for this world, Caramina. Take it so the others don’t fight over it. The silver will ward evil away from you. If the ring ever burns you, you know you’re in the company of someone or something bad, and you must get away from it.”

  Mina had known the delirium was setting in, that her grandmother was talking nonsense, confusing dreams with reality. Still, she liked to believe the ring truly did have powers and could protect her.

  “Did it ever burn you?” she’d asked, playing along.

  “Only once. I shot that motherfucker in the face.”

  Mina had nodded and pretended to believe her. The woman hadn’t even owned a gun, and she certainly had never shot anyone in the face or anywhere else.

  After her grandmother died, Mina had sorted through the bottom drawers in the old woman’s closet to find the box that went with the ring. There it had stayed for the past three years. It hurt her to look at it.

  There had been a fight about the ring. Three different cousins believed it should have been theirs. Soon after, Mina had drifted away from the family and moved into another city where she’d been ever since. Her grandmother had been the only one tethering her to the people who were supposed to be her blood.

  The ring story was nonsense, but she wanted to believe that if she’d been wearing it when she’d met Jason, she would have known he was bad and stayed away.

  So much pain and permanent scarring could have been avoided if she’d known he was a flame to stay well enough away from.

  She slipped the ring on her finger as the clock on the mantle chimed out seven ominously hollow gongs. Outside, a black sedan with tinted windows pulled to the curb. The driver didn’t honk. He just sat with the engine idling. Waiting for her.

  Mina went through the apartment searching for anything else she might miss if she never saw it again. When she looked at the clock again, it was seven-twenty. The sedan still idled. Her heart palpitated wildly, trying to escape her chest.

  She’d packed as Lindsay requested, but the packing had felt more like something to pass time. Once the driver left, she’d have plenty of time to unpack and put her things back where they belonged. She wasn’t going. She’d known she wasn’t going from the moment she’d taken the suitcases out of the closet.

  She’d just wanted the option. If she wasn’t packed, she wouldn’t have the option because there was no way she could leave absolutely everything behind to go… wherever the hell she was being taken. But to admit that to herself and not pack at all was to admit she would never have love again. If someone didn’t arrange something safe for her, only loneliness stretched before her.

  Her tenth cigarette of the evening shook between her fingers. Would they let her smoke? Would her master let her smoke? Would they make her quit? A lot of people thought smoking was a disgusting habit. She agreed, but it calmed her nerves. It made her feel like she could hold things together even while they were falling apart around her.

  What if they wouldn’t let her smoke?

  She laughed in the stillness of the apartment. She wasn’t going. Her smoking habit was safe.

  At seven twenty-five, she went to the window again. Her stomach knotted tighter with each minute that passed. She should make some dinner. But she couldn’t. She had to watch the sedan drive away.

  At seven-thirty, right on schedule, the car began to pull slowly from the curb. A panic burst out of Mina’s chest, and she ran out the door and down the single flight of stairs. Thank God she was only on the second floor. Outside, she grabbed a rock, ran down the road, and threw it at the car. It hit the back window, and the brake lights came on.

  Mina dropped the cigarette she’d been holding and put it out with her shoe.

  A perturbed man stepped out of the car and glared at her.

  “You were supposed to pick me up,” she said, suddenly flustered and wanting to run again.

  “I waited half an hour as instructed. If you couldn’t be ready by that time…”

  “Can you please help me with my bags?” Had she just said that?

  The driver gave a curt nod. He pulled the car to the front of the building and went inside to get her things.

  The drive was silent and long—most of it outside the city in the countryside. It was late when they pulled up to what could only be described as a mansion. And even that didn’t do it justice. Maybe castle? How did this place exist? How did no one know about it?

  The estate seemed to be in the middle of a forest. Had they blocked satellites, somehow? Surely if this place existed, someone would have seen it and reported on it. People would want to know what it was, who owned it, why it was out in the middle of nowhere.

  The driver was buzzed in through an iron gate, and they drove up a large hill to the house. The sedan pulled into an expansive circular driveway.

  “Go in. Your luggage will be brought to your room,” the driver said when the car stopped.

  She trudged up the stairs like a child trying to get out of going to school. Before she could pull the old-fashioned doorbell, the door opened.

  “Mina, you made it.” Lindsay took both of her hands and pulled her into the sprawling estate. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

  “I almost didn’t. I cracked the back window of your car with a rock.” Better for her to tell him than the driver.

  Lindsay raised an eyebrow. “I see. Let me show you to your suite.”

  Mina gaped at the marble floors and ornate staircase in the entry hall. She couldn’t believe she was staying here. The doctor let go of one of her hands, but kept a grasp on the other as he led her to the staircase.

  A man with dark black hair and eyes even darker approached. “Lindsay, I need to meet with you privately.”

  “I’ll be with you in a few minutes. My office,” Lindsay responded.

  “Fine.”

  Mina shrank and hid behind the doctor as the stranger stared, his gaze panning over her. She was grateful she wasn’t wearing anything sexy—just frumpy jeans and a t-shirt. The way he looked at her was bad enough, but if she’d looked remotely decent, it would have been worse.

  Suddenly her whole body burned. She looked down at the ring, her eyes going wide. Was the ring…? Of course not! That was insane! She’d loved her grandmother, but her delirious ramblings days before her death hadn’t been exactly factual or trustworthy. Other tales of hers had included wanting to take a canoeing vacation on the moon, and the insistence that her canoe be pink so the
aliens wouldn’t take it.

  The heat was just the beginning of a panic attack. The feeling went away by the time they reached the top of the stairs, though she’d looked behind her to make sure the stranger wasn’t following. She hoped her door had a big, heavy lock on it.

  They went to the end of the hallway and up another, less opulent flight of stairs. “The only room we have left right now is a tower. I’m afraid it’s quite a trek. And our elevator is out at the moment.”

  They had an elevator? Of course there was an elevator. This place looked like a gothic-themed dungeon resort. Give kinksters unlimited funds to create any place they wanted, and this would be the obvious end result.

  They ascended several more flights. At each floor was a long hallway and several rooms. There was no hallway at the top of the last staircase, just a landing and a large door with wood and ironwork. Lindsay unlocked it and urged her inside.

  The room was clean and large and circular. The walls were stone with small windows going all the way around. A bathroom was built into the tower, breaking the perfect circle. But the bathroom walls were glass.

  “A curtain pulls around it—not that you’ll need it,” he said. “We have a cafeteria you can visit during certain hours to eat. And there is a game room and a pool. We recently enclosed the pool in glass so it can be used year round more easily. Plenty to amuse yourself with.”

  The tower might be creepy, but the view of the grounds from this high up was amazing—even at night.

  The room had a flat screen television mounted on the wall and a king-sized bed covered by a simple black duvet. Chains were bolted into the wall. There was a large trunk at the foot of the bed which Mina assumed probably contained BDSM-related things. A chest of drawers stood near the bed.

  The room also had a writing desk with a plush purple chair in front of it. A black binder sat on the desk next to an old-fashioned rotary phone. She hadn’t seen one of those since she was a child at her grandmother’s house.