The Dollhouse (Paperdolls #1)

by Nicole Thorn

  It was odd, seeing everything behind the scenes. I’d seen shows like this with my mom. I remembered it from when I was little she got me ready for school. Just some random morning shows that would be background noise. And now I was going to be on the evening news. Live.

  This was what I wanted, so why didn’t I want it anymore? I was in the thick of it. The eye of the storm. This was what I asked for. But now, looking at the static people around me, I just wished I were home.

  “Ready, girls?” Felicia smiled and clutched her note cards to her chest.

  It was Layla who nodded. “Sure. I guess we can’t be any readier than we are.”

  Everyone cleared the set and Felicia turned to the camera. With a countdown, it began.

  “Thank you very much for joining us. Tonight my guests are four very brave girls from right here in Seattle. You may not know their names, but by the end of this evening, you won’t be able to forget them. Layla Hall, Riley Cain, Kylie Michaelson, and Adalyn Mitchell are with us tonight.

  “Their story is one you might have heard of. But tonight, we’re going to get it straight from them. Nearly seven and a half years ago, these girls were all stolen from their families and taken to an underground bunker. They were put through countless horrors.” She stopped and faced us another fraction. “Which of you would like to start?”

  We were all frozen for a moment, scared of the people who may be watching. But the woman was a pro.

  “Let’s start with you, Adalyn.” She smiled. “You were all twelve when you were taken?”

  “Yes.” Adalyn nodded.

  “Can you walk me through that day for you?”

  Adalyn looked to the camera and swallowed. Her eyes went to the ground. “Um, I was at the park with my mom. There were a lot of kids around. Mom was talking to another lady there, and my friend and I were playing. I was thirsty, so I left to find a drinking fountain. All I can remember is a needle in my neck. I woke up and”―she looked to me―“Riley and I were in a kitchen, lying on the floor.”

  Felicia looked to me. “Were you all taken on the same day?”

  My blood ran cold, and I wanted to run. Running wasn’t an option anymore, so I swallowed my fear and went on. “No. I was first, then Adalyn. Layla, then Kylie.”

  She nodded. “And how were you taken?”

  Oh, God. I had to relive it. Not that I hadn’t gone through it a million times. Fantasizing about ways I could have done things differently to not get taken. Pointless pain.

  “I was walking home from school,” I said, keeping an even voice and folding my hands in my lap. “I turned a corner, and someone grabbed me. Then I went to sleep for a while.”

  Felicia’s cogs turned. “It almost sounds like he was watching you. Now, can I ask, you’ve all noticed your similarities, I’m sure. Do you know why you all were taken? Did he tell you?”

  It was Layla who answered, and she was just barely hiding an attitude. “He didn’t need to tell us. He showed us every day.”

  Felicia took that and wanted to run. “How so?”

  Layla crossed her legs and glanced over at me. “We were meant to be dolls. The bunker we were in was set up as a dollhouse. Our bedrooms and clothes were all pink. He brushed our hair, regulated what we ate, dressed and cleaned us. We weren’t people. Not to him.”

  “I see.” Felicia switched her crossed legs. “Since you weren’t people to him, how did he treat you? Other than what you’ve told me?”

  This wasn’t what she said she would be asking us. She was supposed to ask about how we were doing. Ask about our families. It didn’t fill me with grief. Only anger.

  I bit. “Well, he read us stories.”

  Her brow arched. “Did he? Was that all of what he did?”

  “What do you mean?” Adalyn asked.

  “I mean, he had to want you for a reason. He played with you like dolls. Like things that weren’t human. Did he hit you ever? Any kind of physical abuse?”

  At the same time, we all shifted in our seats. Layla was the brave one.

  “He hit us when we got ‘out of line.’” She used air quotes. “Back talking, refusing to eat or have bath time.”

  “Bath time?” Felicia arched a brow. “He bathed you?”

  Layla nodded and looked at us with guilt. Like she regretted saying it. “Yes.”

  “And what did that entail?”

  God, what kind of question was that?

  Layla was furious now, but outwardly showing it wasn’t her style. Not when it was beaten into her to be quiet. Her style was subtler that than. She liked to kill you with a sweet smile, make you think you were safe. That was what she did.

  “He stripped us,” she said. “He scrubbed us from head to toe and shaved us, waxed us, burned the hair off. No body hair on a Barbie.”

  “So―”

  “I wasn’t done,” Layla said. “He would dress us after. Is that the kind of stuff we’re supposed to talk about? How he’s had his hands on every part of our bodies, every day for seven years? How he would get into bed with us at night? How we would wake up with those big, disgusting hands on us? Him pressed against us. Him telling us how much we liked it. How we needed it. Him…” Pain silenced her, and I took her hand.

  Felicia cleared her through. “So, the four of you were sexually assaulted?”

  Adalyn nearly whimpered. “N-no. He didn’t do that to us.”

  Felicia leaned in, eyes squinting. “What didn’t he do?”

  Was she really going to make her say it?

  Yes.

  “He didn’t rape us,” Adalyn whispered.

  “Ever?” Felicia asked like it was nothing.

  Nothing at all to her. Just a story. We were nothing more than a story for her. One that would get attention. Get her name out there. God, how could I be so stupid?

  “He didn’t hurt us like that,” I said. “Not like that.”

  I looked out at the people in the room. No expressions. Some were chatting in the back, eating from the big table of food. It was madness to me. How could someone be hearing these stories and just chat about something while eating a sandwich? I couldn’t imagine ever eating again after this.

  “So,” Felicia went on. “Can one of you walk me through a day in the bunker?”

  I just wanted this to be over. “We would be woken up, but we didn’t know what time it was. We didn’t have any way of keeping track of the days.”

  “Wait―” Her hand came out. “Did you not even know how long you were down there?”

  “We only had guesses, based on how we grew. We thought we were in our twenties, maybe.” My eyes fell to my lap. “It felt like we were there longer. But after we got up, we would make him breakfast. Our food was carefully regulated so we wouldn’t gain weight. A lot of boiled chicken and veggies. He would read to us. Sometimes he would leave to shop. We didn’t do much with our days that didn’t involve him. He liked to just watch us. Watch us cook, or read, or do nothing at all.”

  With a nod in false understanding, Felicia said, “Does the name Sylvester Griffin mean anything to you girls?”

  Silence.

  “Riley, you keep referring to your captor as him and he. Did he ever tell you a name?”

  I shook my head again, not wanting to look up at her.

  “Well, he was identified as Sylvester Griffin. He had a history of assault and many, many other things on his record. He was presumed dead by the police in his hometown…”

  I stopped listening at the name. There was never a name. We never asked, and we didn’t want to know. He wasn’t a person to us, and he didn’t deserve a name. And she just gave him one.

  Don’t cry, I told myself. Don’t cry on TV. Don’t cry in front of her. Don’t let your sisters see how upset you are. Just deal with it.

  Felicia was still talking when I came back. “…then what did you call him?”

  It was the first word Kylie spoke, but the power in it reverberated in our hearts. “Master,” she whispered, eyes flicker
ing up. “He had us call him ‘Master.’”

  The people in the room stopped. Conversations ceased, heads turned. Pity was in their eyes. Pity and unwanted sympathy. They stared, grateful it wasn’t them.

  “Master,” Felicia said, gravity to her tone.

  Her face was entirely human for a few moments as she took it all in.

  “I see.” She tapped the cards in place on her lap. “So…” Her throat cleared. “I understand that you have a new sibling, Riley. How has it been, getting to know him?”

  I could do this. It was Welly. I loved him more than I loved anyone but my sisters.

  “He’s a really great kid.” I smiled too, and it hurt my face. “Very sweet. Kind. Everything I could want in a brother.”

  Then the attention was away from me and onto Layla, the only other one of us with a sibling. She talked about her sister a lot. Not even mentioning her parents. Then it was Adalyn, and she spoke of her grief over her mother, and how happy she was that her father was still here. She said how much she loved him. Last was Kylie, who had to have the words dragged out of her. She talked about her parents a little, and how supportive they were.

  I focused on the air in the room. How it felt to pull it in and push it back out. It was cold enough to almost make my teeth chatter. Everything felt so plastic and hateful in here. Nothing personal or real. Was anything in this world real?

  “Now I can’t help but notice your scars,” Felicia said, snapping me to attention. “When did that happen?”

  At the same time, we all looked at our wrists. The reminders of when we just couldn’t take it anymore. And how we failed. I was the first to look away.

  “We don’t really know. Years ago, I suppose,” I said.

  “You did it?”

  I nodded.

  “Why? Did you want to die?”

  I scoffed at her, but it was a soft sound. “Of course we did.”

  More silence.

  Felicia switched her cards. “And how are you girls all getting used to life now? Was it easy to slide back into daily life?”

  Layla answered. “How could it be? Everything is different. We’re not kids anymore. We don’t remember how to be people, let alone be a family. We are each other’s family. No one can ever really understand what that means.”

  Our hands all clasped together at the same time.

  “We survived that place together.”

  Felicia smiled warmly at us. “You’re all so brave. Can you tell me about the night you got free?”

  “Um,” Layla sighed. “It was Riley. She saved us all.”

  Then all eyes were on me, and my heart was in my throat as the woman spoke to me.

  “Tell me about that.”

  “Mast―He… he left a nail file out, and I took it.”

  “And you killed him,” Felicia stated, entirely focused on me as she leaned forward. “Am I right?”

  I closed my eyes and nodded. “Yes. I killed him. When I got my chance, I stabbed him, and then we ran.”

  When my eyes opened, she was looking at her cards. “I understand that he died with… many stab wounds. Most of which were not made by a nail file. I’ve seen the pictures. Tell me the rest of the story.”

  When my hand shook, my sister took it.

  “I thought he was dead the first time. I got him in the throat.” My voice sounded so hollow. “He wasn’t. We found the key, and we were at the top of the stairs. He came at us and grabbed Adalyn. I had a knife that I took before.” That was when my voice cracked. “Over and over, I just kept stabbing him. He wouldn’t die. No matter what. He kept going. Always going. Never letting us be. Then he was gone. We ran.”

  “Wow, amazing.” Felicia leaned back in her seat. “You’re a hero, Miss Cain. You saved the lives of all these girls. How does that make you feel?”

  Not like a hero. “Like I should have done it a long time ago.”

  Felicia seemed satisfied. “Now with all that ugliness out of your lives, what do you all plan to do now? School? Telling your story?”

  Layla jumped in. “I was looking into schools, actually. Something close.”

  “Me too,” Kylie said as she shrank down into her seat.

  “Well,” Adalyn said. “When I was little, I wanted to write books for children. I guess I can now.”

  Then the focus was on me. My mouth was agape for a moment. “I don’t really know what I want to be when I grow up. I kind of just want to work on who I am right now.”

  And with a few more fluffy questions, Felicia gave her sign off, and a monologue about bravery and heroes. I wasn’t listening to her anymore. I was just trying to breathe.

  When the cameras went off, there was thunderous applause from the people in the room. Like we’d done well with our breakdowns and tears. Something was done right. We shook hands, got hugs from strangers, and everyone was using that word for me. Hero. Over and over. I was a hero. I was brave. I was strong. How could I be any of those things when all I felt inside was decay?

  I heard a loud popping sound and followed it with my eyes. A man was filling flute after flute with champagne while another passed them out. Each of us were handed a glass.

  “We’re underage,” Kylie said to the stage manager.

  He winked at us. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  I stared at my sisters, not sure of what to do. Adalyn smelled her glass, making a face. Kylie watched it like she was waiting for it to do a trick, and Layla drank the whole thing in one gulp.

  “What?” she asked when we stared harder. “I needed a drink. Don’t pretend that you don’t.”

  She grabbed another glass, nursing it. Then Kylie took a drink. And Adalyn. And me. I didn’t like the taste, but it went down so easily. If I had enough of these, I could feel so much better…

  “Addy,” Felicia smiled as she came up with half a glass of champagne. “Come with me.” She took her hand. “I told you girls some publisher friends of mine were coming, right? I think you should talk to one. She does a ton of kids’ books.”

  And with that, she led our sister away from us. Then I finished my glass and got another.

  “Addy piss anyone else off?” Layla asked, spying our sister as she spoke to an older woman across the room. Shaking hands and smiling.

  Kylie and I nodded and she said, “Didn’t like that at all.”

  She sipped her drink, finishing the rest in moments. She took another as she started picking at the food left out.

  The interview slowly dissolved into a party. Everyone was convinced this would mean big things for this little news station, and I was beginning to care less and less with every glass I downed. In fact, I didn’t care about much at that moment. Not the people around me, or the phone buzzing in my pocket. All I cared about was the song playing and my dance partner.

  I spun Kylie while Adalyn and Layla danced, and Layla sang along to the music. A lot of other people in the room were doing the same, but a handful left. Probably to see kids and spouses. The things I wasn’t allowed to have. How could I? I was ruined.

  We were all barefoot, and that made the dancing much easier. Sloppy dancing was amazing as it turned out, and every stumble was funny. So funny. When was the last time I laughed like this?

  Kylie and I fell to the floor, my empty glass falling too. We made whooshing sounds as our butts hit tile, and we laughed until it hurt. Kylie was on her feet before I was, and she was swept up in a dance with our other sisters. I found my eyes caught on something.

  The glass had been broken, but there was one piece that survived the best. Everything else was like sparkles on the ground. But that one piece… it felt like a beacon.

  I couldn’t help but reach for it. I held it in my palm, and then I tightened my fingers. The pain was instant euphoria, as if it were injected directly into my blood. I gasped and smiled at the sudden rush of blood. It ran, and it dripped from my palm, landing in perfect drops onto the white tile. It was stunningly grotesque. The splash of blood made several other dots
, and I couldn’t look away as I squeezed harder.

  My breath came quickly as my foggy head started falling into a panic. I’d have to spend the night in the Clean Room. Locked in the dark until I healed from the mistake I made. My fault… it was my fault and I would be punished for it. Should be punished for it, many times over. I was bad, and he knew I was bad. Bad girls were punished, and he said I was awful, just awful sometimes. I disappointed him all the time.

  No… I wasn’t in The Dollhouse right now. That place was somewhere I never had to be again. I was just drunk and on the floor, bleeding.

  My bliss was short lived when I was discovered.

  “Oh!” Felicia said, bending down and getting me off of the floor. “What happened?” She held my palm.

  “I fell,” I slurred. “Hand, glass. Blood.” I blinked.

  I was rushed by a man with a first aid kit who cleaned my hand and wrapped it. Fine. I could still press down on it. It stung and bled, and I loved it.

  God, I loved it.

  love this song!” Layla screamed as she entered the limo. She laid down and started humming along as the stage manager closed the door and gave the driver the all clear.

  “Oh!” I shouted, patting Adalyn’s shoulder. “Look!” I giggled and pointed up. “He’s huge.”

  She screamed and clutched onto me as she looked up. It was so, so dark outside, but I could see him. Silhouetted by the full moon. He sat perched like the Poe’s own raven. This ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling. He was beautiful. Black in a perfect and solid way. He looked proud as he gazed out into blackness. But when he aimed his eyes at us, I saw hell in them. One as black as his plumage, and the other as white and empty as my whole world felt. He did not stay for introductions.

  It was just Adalyn and me now, waiting to get brought home. I felt so light now. I could smile, and it didn’t feel fake.

  I took Adalyn’s hand, and we started dancing again. She held my hand tightly, making it sting gloriously. We sang to the song that played in her limo when it pulled up.

  Felicia had her purse and keys in her hand as she walked down the path. Her eyes landed on us, and she smiled uncomfortably.