The Dollhouse (Paperdolls #1)

by Nicole Thorn

  I wasn’t sure what tripped me, but I landed hard on the driveway. It was on my hands and knees, and the sting was instant. My body scraped the harsh ground, and I cried out.

  Shaking, I moved onto my butt, assessing the damage that made me want to scream.

  Wilson was at my side, trying to attend to me. I shoved him away, and the look on his face was nothing but astonishment.

  “D-don’t touch me,” I whimpered.

  He was at a loss beside me. “You’re okay,” he tried. “You just skinned your knees. It’s not that bad. Just let me—”

  I shoved him again, warning him. Blood. There was blood running down my knees and beading on my palms. It hurt, but it wouldn’t hurt as bad as the punishment. He was always so mad when we got hurt. So mad…

  Wilson hushed me, not taking the hint. “Don’t cry. You’re okay, baby. Just let me help you.”

  I shook my head fast. “No, no, no. He’s going to hurt me again. Master doesn’t like it when we fall. I have to go away ‘til it gets better. He’s going to hurt me, he’s going to hurt me.” I made a sound that was halfway between a shriek and a cry as I tucked my head between my knees, waiting for the feeling of a belt on me. Leather and stinging. He always hits so hard.

  “Shh,” Wilson said as soothingly as he could. “He’s gone. That bastard is dead, Riley.” His voice was honey. “You only skinned your knees, sweetheart.”

  I shook my head again. “He’s going to put me in the Clean Room. It’s so dark. All the way underground. He doesn’t let me talk to them. Have to stay in bed until I heal. Until the ugly marks go away so I can be perfect again.”

  Wilson’s eyes were wide in alarm, and I didn’t know why.

  “Master wouldn’t hurt Wilson,” I said, thinking that was what he was scared of. “He would hurt me. I was bad, and I would be punished now. Tied down and punished until I knew what I did wrong. He was right. I was a bad, bad girl. Should have drowned me in the tub like the last one. The one he told us about. She was all off, he said. Her skin was too tan, and her teeth were crooked. Scars on her side. He didn’t know. Didn’t matter. She was at the bottom of a lake. And he said I was so much prettier than her. No scars. White hair and a white smile. So happy when he found me. He brushed my hair for hours before we got in bed. I was good. He said I was good. But he was wrong. Good on the outside and rotten on the inside. Should have drowned me in the tub.”

  “Please,” Wilson begged. “He’s not here. He’s dead and buried, Riley. Can you hear me?” His tone was sharp and desperate. “He’s fucking dead.”

  “Not dead,” I sniveled. “Got him in the neck, and he just kept coming. I ran. We ran, and he came back. The knife went in over and over, and he’s not dead.”

  I was almost convulsing, and I didn’t know where I was. Blood dripped onto the ground under me, and I covered my eyes with my stinging hands. I didn’t wanna see it. I didn’t want to see Master hit me. I didn’t want to see the anger in his face when he tied me down.

  “I’m so sorry for this, baby.” Wilson pressed his forehead to my temple and scooped me up in his arms while I shook.

  No, he couldn’t see me like this. Broken. Flawed. I was damaged, and it was ugly. He wouldn’t even look at my face as he brought me to the door. I fought him, and he didn’t care. He didn’t stop. We got into the house, and I screamed, but he wouldn’t stop.

  “Mrs. Cain!” he yelled as he walked me though the house.

  I thrashed in his arms, but he didn’t set me down until I was at the kitchen table. I screamed for him to let go of me, and he held my hand instead.

  My parents rushed down the stairs, and everything was turning into black spots. They asked Wilson what happened. He didn’t know. I got hurt, and now I was dissolving before him.

  Then my father held me down. He shouted at my mother to help him, and Wilson was nothing but a lost boy. I watched my father move over to a drawer and grab something. I didn’t know what it was. But I felt it when he stabbed it into my arm.

  I made a sound as he depressed a plunger.

  Everything was getting heavy, and I couldn’t keep fighting. Master would find me and hurt me. I was trapped. Always trapped.

  The last thing I heard was Wilson. He was so angry and sad. I heard it in his voice. Just under the fury. A crack in his voice.

  “What the fuck did you just do?”

  And I was gone.

  y body was made of lead. I was flat on my back, and it was a real effort to get my eyes open. Once I did, they rolled back into my head before they allowed me to use them.

  The room was dark, but I knew it was mine. I was in my own bed today. I sat up, and the act almost had me on the floor with how hard my head rushed. My world tilted on its axis, and I pressed my palms to my eyes. It hurt, and I remembered why. I fell down.

  That was all it took for me to break. I could remember it all like I was looking through muddy water. The words were clear, but the picture was obscured. I said so many things to Wilson. I didn’t mean to. I just didn’t know where I was. I was so sure that Mas—that he was coming back for me. He would find me.

  But he couldn’t find me. Not now. Not with the two dozen holes I put in him. The smell of blood still burned in my nostrils, and I think it was my punishment for my sins.

  Then I realized what woke me up. It was yelling. Familiar voices shouted at each other downstairs.

  “You just fucking drugged her,” Wilson yelled. “You pumped her full of God-knows-what because you didn’t want to try and talk her down. I should have just taken her home.”

  Then it was my father. “She’s my daughter, Wilson. You don’t have the right to tell me how to deal with her.”

  “She was scared, and she needed comfort. Not drugs.”

  “How’d that comfort do you? Because she was screaming her head off when you brought her in.”

  There was only a beat before Wilson came back. “It wasn’t what she needed.”

  When my father spoke, it wasn’t a shout, but it was stern and sharp. “And what makes you think you know what she needs? You don’t know her at all.”

  “I know her a lot better than you do.”

  “Oh, please,” Dad scoffed. “Don’t act like this is anything more than you wanting to get into her pants. You think she’ll be an easy target because she’s got the mind of a child? You’re a real bastard, you know that?”

  I whimpered to myself as my mother tried to get them to stop. It didn’t work, and Wilson sounded angry.

  “She doesn’t have the mind of a child. If you stopped treating her with kid gloves all the damn time, you would know that. She’s intelligent, and she sees everything like it’s magic. She’s beautiful, and you don’t see her as anything but a broken doll you want to fix.”

  Doll. I was forever a doll to everyone. No matter how I changed myself. Even Wilson saw it.

  My father lowered his voice. “The doctor told me that people who’ve been through trauma like hers can have outbursts. She might’ve hurt herself if I didn’t do what I did. As disgusting as your motives are, I know you don’t want that.”

  “I don’t want to just sleep with her and run,” Wilson defended. “She needs a friend that isn’t connected to that place. If you don’t let her live her life, then she’s never going to find one other than me.”

  “Well, she needs to find one other than you. I know the kind of stuff you like to get up to, Wilson. I don’t want my kid to be another girl you use up and drop. She’s not able to come back from that. If you try and be something more than a friend to her, she’s going to think you care. It’ll mean something different to her. If she gets attached, then when you get bored it’s going to devastate her.”

  Everyone thought I was so weak. Was I worth so little company that my father believed the only thing I could be wanted for was sex? That made my chest ache, and my eyes pricked with tears. Wilson didn’t want that from me. He liked me because he liked how I acted. He told me. Sex with me wouldn’t be much goo
d to him anyway. He would know that. He would know that I didn’t know how to do it. How to touch him or kiss him. I was just a broken doll.

  “That’s not going to happen,” Wilson said with sureness that could be a lie for all I knew. “I’m not planning on touching her. Ever. Not Riley.”

  Another sting. He made it sound like it would be ridiculous for someone to want that. Too broken to be more than a friend, but also too damaged to engage in such an act. Unfixable.

  “Good,” Dad growled. “She’s not for you to chew up and spit out. I thought she was dead and rotting for seven years. I didn’t get her back just for some little punk like you to kill what’s left of her.”

  “If you bothered to try and talk to her about something other than her kidnapping, you’d see how much of her there really was. Your daughter is very much alive, and you need to stop treating her like she died all those years ago.”

  Feet stomped up the stairs, and I couldn’t make a move to hide myself. I sat there quietly, thinking about all the things wrong with me. Wilson thought better of me, but I was so broken.

  My door opened and he walked in, eyes on the floor as he closed it behind him. It figures that he wouldn’t go home yet. Dad must have been upset to have him here. Even in the darkness I could see ferocity in Wilson’s being. Barely keeping it all under his skin. It was as impressive as it was terrifying. One look at me, and it liquefied into tranquility and relief.

  Wilson rushed me, tossing flowers aside and onto my bed as he hugged me. “Thank God,” he said. “You’re up.” He kissed my temple before he sat down on my nightstand. “I wasn’t sure when you would.”

  “How long was I out?” I rasped. My voice was scratchy from disuse, and the very act of talking made it hurt.

  With an angry sigh, Wilson said, “A day and a half. Your dumbass father didn’t take into account that you’re very thin and you hadn’t eaten much. He gave you too much of whatever the hell that was, and you’ve been sleeping since. What do you remember?”

  I remember going all basket case on you. “Not much.”

  Wilson was patient with me, not trying to touch or comfort me during the new panic. “You told me some things that you might not have wanted to, but I need to make sure you know that you’re safe now. No one is going to come after you now.”

  I nodded. “I know.” When I pulled my knees up, I saw the massive bandages over them. My mother must have patched me up while I was sleeping.

  Wilson’s eyes were drawn down to the wounds. “He locked you up when you were hurt?”

  I didn’t bother lying. “He didn’t like flaws. When it was an accident, he was nicer. Then there were the times we hurt ourselves on purpose. He got the ropes and the belt out. We couldn’t come back until we were perfect again.”

  Hesitantly, he swept his thumb under my eye, drawing away a tear. “Did that happen a lot?”

  I could only shrug. “I couldn’t measure time. But when it wasn’t on purpose, we just were put away. Like when we got older and started…” I trailed off, not really wanting to talk about my period with him.

  Wilson was smart enough to put it together.

  “Ah,” he said. “How did he know?”

  I could tell how scared he was to ask.

  “We got frequent and thorough baths, Wilson. He always knew. I thought after the first time, he might kill us and get younger girls. Instead, he just locked us up. We got to be together for that at least. The magic of biology put us on the same cycle,” I said bitterly, my voice low.

  There was another question he wanted to ask, and it was making his foot tap vigorously on the floor. Eventually, he gathered up the guts to do it.

  “Was he worried you would get pregnant? Is that why you thought he’d get rid of you?”

  I shook my head. “He didn’t touch us like that.” I smiled, and it felt like I was made of venom. “He couldn’t do that, no. If he did, then we wouldn’t be pure anymore. We weren’t people. We were his dolls. He dressed us up and groomed us. Made us everything he wanted us to be. Sex would make us lack the innocence he wanted to see. An ugly blessing.”

  There was clear relief on Wilson’s face, and he breathed in sharply, as if he’d forgotten to while I was talking. “Thank God.”

  I understood his relief, but it wasn’t much for me. At least not at the moment. There were so many other things the man did to us. It never ended. The nightmares reminded me every time I closed my eyes.

  I felt Wilson’s eyes on me as I looked at the flowers he brought me. Daisies. They were blue and orange. With sickness in the pit of my stomach, I looked sideways at him. “I think we should stop seeing each other for a while.”

  He was clearly a little upset by that. “Why?”

  How was this not clear? “You didn’t take the out I gave you, and you really should have. I shouldn’t have friends right now because I can’t keep up. You’ve been better than I could have asked for, and now I’m asking you to leave.”

  I couldn’t stop myself from crying, and I think I deserved the tears. Wilson looked upset, but he would move on. Someone like him would be good at making new friends. Finding pretty girls to spend his time with. He didn’t need me.

  He stood up and brushed my hair back. “Do you really want me gone?”

  “I don’t want you to see me for everything that I am. Because I love that you look at me like I’m just a person. If that went away, I don’t know what I would be left with. So be the sweet boy next door that waves at me when you get the mail, who’s the big brother of my little brother’s best friend, but don’t be my friend because I can’t become your broken doll.”

  Wilson seemed to be at a loss. I knew this would be too much for him. It was a lot to ask.

  “Okay. Just promise me that if you need someone to talk to, or if you’re hurting, you’ll find me. Don’t do something that you can’t undo.” He eyed my wrists.

  “I promise.”

  Wilson took my face in his hands and pressed his lips to my cheek. He held it, letting him soak through me and giving me time to regret it. I already did, but it didn’t change anything. I needed to figure out who I was alone before I could bring other people into this mess.

  Wilson let go of me and didn’t say goodbye before he walked out of my life.

  Soaking in a bubble bath wasn’t as relaxing as the bottle of bubbles promised me it would be. I smelled lovely, but I was just as empty as I was a half hour ago. Nothing was reaching me, and it was beginning to worry me. My family noticed and did the best they could. Welly tried to play with me, and my parents offered to buy me things. The problem was that I didn’t want anything. What I wanted was nothing physical. The feeling of being a part of humanity wasn’t something I could just stumble on. And I didn’t know how to gain it.

  I sank deeper into the tub until only my face was above the surface. It was ugly, but I thought about it. I really did. How little effort it would take to sink in just a little bit more. What would it take? Two minutes? Three? I could hold on that long. Drowning felt like it would be a peaceful way for me to go.

  But how would my family feel if they came home to me dead in a bathtub? I wasn’t thinking of my parents so much as my brother. He wouldn’t remember me past the pain he’d seen in my parents for the first five years of his life, and then the new pain I left them with because of my selfishness. I couldn’t hurt him like that. I’ve already messed up enough of his childhood by vanishing and coming back.

  I rested my head against the back of the tub, comforting myself with nothing but the knowledge that if I wanted to die, it was my choice in the end. Always an option if it became too much. I could do it in a way that can do the least amount of damage. They wouldn’t find my body. Someone else would. And I could write everyone a note. Explain as best I could why I was doing it. That they were wonderful, but this wasn’t something I could try to do anymore. I didn’t fit into the world, and it didn’t want me anyway.

  I focused on one bubble that was stuck to the w
all. I watched it, trying to forget how much I wanted to slip under the water. The bubble was all alone, but it was surviving. Just hanging in there. No rhyme or reason to it still being there. Yet it was. If I couldn’t last longer than a bubble, what was I worth?

  It was time to get out of the bath, I decided. I pulled the plug and stood up, reaching for a towel and wrapping it around myself. Brushing my hair out only took about a minute now, and that was one thing I liked. Quick and easy to take care of.

  The clock said it was getting late, past dinner time. My family went out after I told them I wanted to be alone and I wasn’t in the mood. It took a half hour of convincing my mother I would be okay alone for a couple hours. Nice to know it wouldn’t be all that hard should I need them gone again.

  I walked into my room without my towel on, just because I could. There was an odd freedom to being naked, and it made me feel colder. I liked the cold so much more than the heat.

  I put on my underwear and stood in front of my dresser, staring at my clothes and deciding what to wear. Music filled the air, and the song was slow. A woman crooned about a lowdown man to the tune of a piano. If only a lowdown man were my problem. How simple that would be.

  I’d heard the song enough to know the words. I sang to myself as I dug in my dresser. The feel of the fabric distracted me, and the words fell away. It didn’t matter.

  I picked out some pajamas to get into. It was already past six, and it would be time for bed soon. As I was getting dressed, I noticed the scrapes on my knees. In the past few days, they’ve been healing well. No more bandages. My palms were all healed up too.

  The jammies I had on were purple with little bees on them. They were sniffing flowers and flying to hives. My mother said she saw them and thought of me. They were shorts and a button up t-shirt.

  I was halfway down the stairs when the doorbell rang. I jumped in fright, nearly tumbling down the rest of the way. That would have been a pathetic way to die.