by Rina Kent
Xander and Kim don’t care; they only like the act of playing games, but Silver always stomps out angrily, then returns the next day demanding a rematch.
“I’ll tell you if you tell me yours,” I say.
Her brow furrows. “Mine?”
“Why are you crying?”
She crosses her arms again while still holding her doll. “I’m not telling you.”
“I’m not telling you either, Butterfly.”
She glares at me, jutting her lip forward. It’s adorable.
It’s weird to think of someone as adorable on a day like this…I suppose. But since I met Chaos, I’ve realised normal was never for me in the first place.
Finally, Silver sighs. She stares down at her dress’s skirt and plays with the butterfly at the waist. “I overheard Mum and Dad fighting and saying they’re getting a divorce.”
Disappointment grips me like when those passersby found me. Why is it so boring? “That’s it?”
“What do you mean, that’s it?” Fresh tears pool in her eyes. “They always fight and scream and say mean things to each other. Now they’re going to get a divorce. I’ll be like Sally from class. My life will be divided between two parents and two homes. We won’t live together, have holidays together, or travel together and…and…I don’t want that!”
“Okay.”
Her head snaps in my direction. “Okay? I tell you everything and all you have to say is okay?”
“Yeah, good luck.” I start to stand, but she clutches me by the sleeve of my T-shirt, keeping me in place.
“You don’t get to leave, Cole.” She pulls me down with a force I didn’t know she had in her. I lose my balance and fall on my back on the bench.
The sting creeps all the way up my spine.
Silver straddles my waist, her big skirt covering us both as she places her palms on my shoulders.
If I wanted to push her away, I could, but I don’t want to. This close, I notice the tiny freckles lining her nose that I haven’t seen before. Tears glisten in her eyes, and the view from the bottom allows me to look at the clear contours of her shadowed face.
It’s…beautiful.
“You can’t leave. You’re the first one I ever told that. You have to take responsibility for it. Papa says everyone is responsible for how they react after they see things. If you ignore something bad, you’re a bad person.” A tear falls from her eyelid, straight on to my cheek, and drips to my mouth, making me taste salt.
“Who do you hate the most between them?” I ask quietly.
“I don’t hate my parents.”
“You must. If they’re fighting, one of them is causing it, right?” I pause. “In my case, my father does, and I hate him.”
I don’t know why I tell her that. Could be because I want to conjure that look from earlier, or simply because I want to say it out loud for once in my life.
“Why do you hate your father?” she asks.
“This is about you. Who do you hate the most?”
“I don’t hate her, but I don’t like M-Mum sometimes.” She stares away as if she doesn’t want to admit it.
“Why?”
“Because she dislikes everything and keeps telling me I need to act like a lady. I can’t play outside or invite my friends over. I can’t run to hug Papa when he comes home. I can’t cry or scream. So I do it here, you know.” She motions at the park. “I cry and scream here when no one is around.”
“She’ll want to take you when they divorce.”
She sniffles, her eyes doubling in size as she stares at me again, then she violently shakes her head. “No. I don’t want that.”
“When other adults ask you, tell them you want to stay with your father.”
“And…and they’ll let me?”
I nod. “That’s what Sally did. She chose her mum and they let her live with her.”
“Does that mean I’ll never see Mum? I don’t want that.”
“You will, but you’ll stay at home with your father most of the time.”
She draws a crackled breath, offering me a small smile. “Thank you. I’m glad you’re the first one I told this.”
“Me, too.” I get to see her like this when no one on this earth ever will.
Suddenly, a thought takes over me and becomes a need.
Just like the need I had when I wanted more chaos.
“Now tell me your secret,” she demands, still fighting with the remnants of her crying.
I grin. “I want to be your first.”
“My first in what?”
My thumb wipes the moisture under her eyes. “In everything, Butterfly.”
“Then I want your firsts, too.” She juts her chin. “Promise me.”
“Promise.”
2
Doll Master
Hello.
You don’t know who I am, but I know who you are.
I’m the monster under your bed and the bogeyman in your closet.
I’m the unknown.
You don’t see me unless you look for me, and even when you do, are you sure you’ve looked hard enough? Searched thoroughly enough?
Here’s something you need to know about me: I like dolls.
Or rather, one particular doll.
My father didn’t let me play with dolls. He said he didn’t like them and they weren’t for me.
So I hid my doll and proved him wrong.
Now, I’m proving everyone wrong.
Including you.
This is the story of my new favourite doll after I lost my most precious one.
I didn’t believe in love at first sight until I saw her.
And I mean, all of her.
The porcelain skin, the baby blue eyes, the golden hair, and the pink dress with ribbons and tulle.
It’s like she was made for me.
She was.
My own doll. My special doll.
I was broken the first time I saw her. I was about to make a decision I’d regret for the rest of my life, but she showed up. She was there, beautiful and crying, and I knew I had to keep her.
I already had a doll before, so I hadn’t paid her any attention.
Now that my doll is gone, I finally see her.
Crying, speaking.
My previous doll didn’t do that. Not really.
Her golden hair camouflages her face and hides her from the world, but eventually, she’ll be completely visible to me.
There’s an art in being a doll master. You get to see and notice things no one else sees or notices. Not even the dolls themselves.
Masterpieces in the making.
I can recognise a masterpiece even before it’s fully formed. That’s why I’m the best doll master you can ever find.
That is, if you can find me.
You can’t.
And neither can she.
I’ve mastered the art of deception, of hiding, of being invisible.
Sometimes, even I don’t see myself.
Even I find trouble in recognising what I’ve done. What I can do.
My limit has been myself, but today, I’ve let go of the last shackle.
Now, I have a new doll. My prized possession.
Silver. My beautiful little doll.
Welcome to my world.
You’ll find it fun.
Eventually.
Oh, and don’t search for me. You won’t find me until I let you. And when I finally show up in front of you, all you’ll be able to do is shatter into bloody pieces.
I smile at the thought.
Time to start my homework.
Run, doll.
Hide.
And don’t ever, ever look under your bed.
Silver
Age eleven
I have to stay with Mum this weekend. I don’t like it.
She takes me to parties and brunches and makes me wear dresses and sit with her friends’ children.
I want to stay with Papa and listen to his friends. They’re cool people – Papa
They own the whole country.
Papa says no, that the Conservative Party doesn’t own the UK; they just govern it. And the only reason they do that is because they gained the people’s vote.
I don’t care. They’re cool and they own the country in my mind. They know a lot of stuff about stuff, and they make me feel so important when I help our housekeeper bring them tea. Papa always asks about my opinion and lets me read his favourite books.
When I grow up, I’m going to be him. I’m going to stand in front of many people in the parliament and defend my beliefs.
Mum is also in the Conservative Party, but she’s from the loser faction — or that’s what Frederic, Papa’s right-hand man, says. He tells me Mum is from the faction who nominate a leader who never wins the internal elections.
Being members of the same party should’ve given my parents a reason to stay together, but they somehow managed to find a way to disagree, even while having the same general beliefs.
Anyway, Mum’s friends aren’t cool. They’re snobs and frequently make me feel like I need to walk the line around them.
Papa’s friends are way better.
But this weekend, I have to go to Mum’s. I asked Papa if I could stay with him, but he says she’s my parent too.
If I don’t go, Mum will come and pick a fight with Papa all over again. Mum doesn’t shut up — at all. She made the divorce and the custody process so messy, I still have nightmares about it.
But she’s my mum, and I don’t like seeing her alone. For three years, I tried bringing her and Papa together again by suggesting we have holidays together, but they always, without fail, ended them with a fight. It’s like they look for opportunities to argue.
I guess I can survive the weekend.
But first, I need to get ready. That’s why I’m sitting in the park alone. I wore my navy blue dress with matching flats and I have my hair loose, falling down my back.
One hour until I have to meet Mum’s friends for lunch.
I can do this.
I sit cross-legged on the bench and place my hands on my knees. I’m meditating. It’s a trick Helen taught me to use when my thoughts are all over the place.
Helen is way better than my mum in being quiet. She listens to me and does my hair and gives me gifts. She taught me tricks to make better tea and she lets me be with her when she’s baking.
If her son, Cole, wasn’t a pain in the arse, maybe I would’ve spent this hour with her instead of being alone.
I don’t like boys in general. They act like pigs, are annoying, and don’t let others be at peace.
All they care about is pulling pranks. Especially Aiden and Cole. I still want to punch the tosser Aiden for tripping me the other day.
But who I hate the most is Cole. He offered me his hand to help me up and then he pulled on my ponytail and said, “Go cry in the park.”
I hate that he knows how important this place is to me. He’s been using it to taunt me every chance he gets. Sometimes, he follows me here just to make fun of me. He doesn’t do it in front of the others because everyone believes Cole is a good boy.
They think Aiden is slightly mischievous and Xander is the bad boy, but they don’t know that Cole is a first-class wanker.
I tried finding another special place other than this park, but I couldn’t. This is where I had my first picnic with my parents. Or maybe it wasn’t the first, but it’s my first happy memory, so it became my sanctuary. My escape from the world.
The wanker Cole won’t take that away from me.
Happy thoughts. Don’t think about Cole. Happy thoughts.
As soon as I return from Mum’s, Papa will hear me play the piano piece I’m practicing for an upcoming competition. Helen will teach me how to make cakes. For some reason, I never get it right. I’m better with preparing tea.
Someone pulls on a strand of my hair and I groan, my eyes snapping open.
Cole sits beside me, smiling. He does that a lot — staying silent and having that infuriating smile all over his face.
He’s not saying anything, but his expression feels like a taunt all on its own.
“What do you want?” I snap.
“This park is for everyone, Butterfly.”
Ugh. I hate it when he calls me that. It’s a reminder of that day I showed him my weakness when I shouldn’t have.
Though his advice worked. When I told the judge that I wanted to stay with Papa, he didn’t hesitate to give my father custody. Mum didn’t talk to me or Papa for a week and I had to go apologise to her about it before she would forgive me.
I’ll never tell Cole I’m thankful. That means showing weakness in front of him again and he’ll use that against me for years to come.
That day was black in both our lives. When I went home, my parents sat me down and announced they were getting a divorce. I cried myself to sleep that night.
The following morning, I found out that Uncle William, Cole’s father, tripped in his pool and hit his head against the edge. He died around the time Cole was talking to me in the park.
Cole’s life has never been the same since then. He doesn’t say it, but I kind of feel it.
Mum and her friends keep saying Helen became a rich widow who has so much money, she won’t be able to spend it in her lifetime.
Cole didn’t cry at his father’s funeral. He doesn’t cry in general, but I thought he would that day.
However, he didn’t even shed one tear.
He spent the entire ceremony clutching his mother’s hand as she sobbed. It was like she was crying both Cole’s and her share.
That day, I gave Cole my Snickers bar. I only get one every three days — Mum’s rules because I have to watch my diet — and I figured since he was sad, the chocolate would make him feel better.
He glared at it, then at me, before he told me to eat it in front of him. I did, secretly happy I could get my chocolate. While I was still eating, he told me I was selfish. I threw the rest of the chocolate bar on his chest and left.
He’s been a wanker ever since. He makes me think he wants to spend time with me, just to say mean things while smiling.
I hate it when he does that.
I hate his smiles and his chestnut hair that he keeps long enough to be ruffled by the wind. I also hate that his eyes are a green so rare, it’s mesmerising. It’s not foresty like Kim’s, no. It’s also not like the grass everyone can stomp on. It’s like the tip of the tall trees where it appears light but it’s in fact dark and deep. High and mighty and far.
So, so far, it’s almost impossible to climb up to it.
“Are you still mad because you lost in chess earlier?” He smiles. “You’re a newbie.”
“I’ll win next time. Whatever.”
“You can’t win against me, Butterfly.”
“Of course I can. I won in the piano competition. Hmph.”
“That’s because I let you.”
“That’s what losers say.”
“You don’t want to challenge me, or I’ll make you cry again.”
“Go to hell.”
His grin widens. “Whoa. Big words, Miss Prim and Proper.”
I narrow my eyes on him. “What would it take for you to leave me alone?”
He pauses for a second, seeming to seriously consider my offer. Then he taps his cheek. “Kiss me here.”
“I won’t!”
“Fine.” He lets his arm drop to his side before he sneakily pulls on my hair.
“Ow!”
“What?”
“I told you not to do that anymore.”
“You didn’t give me what I wanted. Why should I give you what you want?”
“You’re such a…a…”
“You can’t find the word?”
“A tosser!”
“I’m fine with that. Are you going to kiss me or should I bother you until Cynthia comes to pick you up?”
“Why do you want me to kiss your cheek?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Because.”
“Tell me why or I won’t do it.”
He pauses, his smile disappearing. Cole doesn’t like it when he’s cornered. Finally, he speaks quietly. “You haven’t done it to any other boys.”
It’s my turn to smile. “Because you want my firsts?”
He nods. “Now do it or I’ll pull your hair again.”
“Say please.”
“I’m not saying please,” he mocks. “Do it or I’ll pull on your hair.”
“Then I’ll just kiss Aiden’s cheek and you’ll lose that first forever.”
Cole’s nostrils flare and I fold my arms, feeling smug.
“You’ll regret this,” he says.
“Don’t care.”
He takes a deep breath. “Please.”
“Please what?”
“Silver,” he warns. He only uses my given name when he’s mad or wants me to do something.
“You have to say the whole sentence.”
He grits his teeth but speaks in a calm voice. “Please kiss me on the cheek.”
I do.
Placing a hand on the bench, I lean over and brush my lips against his right cheek. The contact is brief, but for some reason, my face heats and I quickly pull back.
He’s smirking.
Why is he smirking?
Cole taps his left cheek. “Now, the other one.”
“We only agreed on one cheek.”
“We only agreed on a cheek, we didn’t specify which one. I wanted the left one.”
“Fine.” I want to feel his skin again anyway.
He leans in slightly so his left cheek is in front of me. But the moment my lips are about to make contact with his skin, he abruptly turns his head and his mouth seals to mine.
For a second, I’m too stunned to react. His lips are soft and feel fuller than they look.
And now, they’re on mine.
I reel back in shock, covering my mouth with the back of my hand. My cheeks are so hot, I feel like they’ll explode.
“W-w-w-why d-did you d-do t-that?!” I point a shaky finger at him. It’s like I can’t speak anymore.
Another smirk lifts his lips. The lips I just kissed. “Because.”
“Cole, you…you…”
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