Broken Dolls

by Tyrolin Puxty

  I stand still in the open, gaping at the bright paneling in the hallway. It’s much cozier than the attic. And then, there’re three doors and the stairs. One has to lead to the professor’s room, right?

  “Ella! Come back!” Lisa screams through the walls. “Don’t go to our maker!” She tries to slip through the crack, but gets wedged in halfway. She hits her free hand on the paneling to get my attention. “Ella! Seriously, stop! I’m trying to help you!”

  Part of me feels compelled to yank her out–she looks so stranded, stuck in the wall like that. But the other half–

  “—Ella! RUN!” Lisa points at something behind me. I turn and scream at the black cat that towers over me, its hiss volatile.

  I don’t know why I do what I do next. Somehow, coming head to head with an unpredictable beast has a higher success rate than spending another second with Lisa. I slide between the cat’s paws and grip onto its tail, which thrashes me around. It growls and shoots down the stairs, desperate to get me off.

  We reach the bottom and I release my grip, the cat slinking into the darkness. I stand and check the rest of my limbs. Apart from my missing hand, I seem to be okay. On the plus side, I sort of pet a cat–Gabby will be pleased that I ticked off another item on the bucket list.

  I’m in what looks like a combined lounge room and kitchen. The professor has rather distinguished taste–the kitchen has marble tiles and countertops with wooden pantry doors. The lounge room is covered in various artworks and plants, with a glass coffee table and matching, grey couches. It’s actually a lot more modern than I was expecting.

  “Jupiter? Jupiter, what’s all the fuss?”

  A human’s voice. I hide behind the banister when the lights switch on. Someone comes through the door by the lounge room, their eyes puffy and their hair ruffled. They’re in a pink onesie which I don’t care for. Onesies are inexplicitly in style again despite the revolting way they pull at the crotch.

  “Jupiter? Come on, boy. Why were you growling like that?” The girl bends over to pick up the cat, stroking it gently.

  Wait. That’s Gabby! I emerge from my hiding place and jump on the spot. “Gabby! Down here! It’s Ella!”

  Gabby’s eyes widen, and she drops the cat onto the couch. She rushes towards me and cups her palms so I can clamber up.

  “Your hand! What happened?”

  “The professor made another doll and she’s crazy! She was trying to break me!” I cuddle into her hands. “Please, don’t take me back up there. Why are you here? Do you live here?”

  Gabby rolls her eyes. “My parents are away for the weekend, so I’m staying here. Are you telling me there’s another human that’s a doll?” When I nod, she continues. “And when you say she’s trying to break you… does that mean she’s trying to kill you?”

  “I don’t know!” I sit in her hand, biting my finger. “I don’t know how any of this works! I don’t understand how I was human and why I don’t remember any of it! Everything was fine before Lisa showed up!”

  “And Lisa is the crazy doll?”

  “Yeah, she’s a goth.”

  “Well, that probably explains a lot of her behavior.”

  I frown. Is this a joke? Being a goth shouldn’t make anyone a killer. I bet it’s the whole being turned into a doll and still remembering a past life that’s made Lisa this way.

  Gabby carries me into her bedroom, which looks remarkably plain, like the guestrooms on TV. Apricot walls, white bedspread, and a side table. Apart from that, there’s nothing to really note.

  She lowers me onto the bed and sits cross-legged on top of the covers. “So, why is she trying to kill you?” Her tone drips with both wonder and disgust.

  I shrug and mimic her position. “She said it would help me. I don’t know how dying could help anyone. I don’t even know if I can die. I haven’t aged in years. At least, I don’t think I have. My head even fell off and the professor just had to screw it back on.”

  “Maybe she’s jealous of how pretty you are and just wants to mangle you?”

  “I’ve considered that. But… I think her actions run deeper than that. Oh, I’d hate to get the professor to deactivate her!”

  “What does that mean?” Gabby leans over to the side table and takes a sip from the cup of water that’s there. I watch in envy. If only I could remember what it was like to drink! The professor tries not to eat or drink in front of me to prevent me from desiring human needs. Could I ask Gabby to do the same thing? Or would it be totally rude?

  “It means… I don’t know what it means! He has to find her first–and that’s the most difficult part. She has a remarkable skill of showing up when you don’t want her and squirreling away when you need her. Once he has her, he’ll take her into the lab and do… something that would stop her from walking and talking.”

  “So killing her, yeah?” Said with such ease, it metaphorically makes my stomach lurch.

  “Yeah,” I whisper. I don’t want Lisa to die, but I can’t have her chasing me around for the rest of my life. “I don’t think the professor has ever done that before. Lisa’s the only other human doll I’ve met.”

  Gabby shrugs. “Aunt Sianne used to say the professor crafted dolls all day and night. She hated it.” I tilt my head to the side, mutely requesting a more in depth explanation. Gabby laughs. “SO CUTE. Anyway, Aunt Sianne died a while ago. Grandpa and she never got along too well. I never understood why she had such a grudge about him making dolls, but I never knew about you being human until yesterday.”

  I hesitate. “So, there are a lot of dolls that the professor has made?”

  “According to Aunt Sianne, yeah. But she was a little loopy, kind of the black sheep of the family.”

  I don’t know why her words trigger the onset of depression in me. It must’ve been the mention of family. I have no idea who my family is, or even if I have one. That’s when it hits me: not only am I lonely… I’m actually alone.

  “What’s wrong?” Gabby strokes my arm, the one with the missing hand.

  I shake my head and suck my lips, trying to impede the breathy moans that accompany crying. I don’t last for long. Before I know it, I’m sobbing into my lap, unable to form jointed sentences.

  “I… don’t… know!” I push my hair from my face. I hate that it’s not pinned in a bun tonight–it’s just in the way now.

  Gabby leans closer to me, pokes my cheek, and gasps.

  “What?” I sniff.

  “There’s water on your face. I mean, tears are coming from your eyes. Are you supposed to do that?”

  I instinctively stop weeping and wipe the moisture from my eyes. The small beads glisten on my fingertips. “Oh wow,” I say, uncertain about the impossibility of tears. “I’m definitely not supposed to do that.”

  I laugh heartily, so much that I roll onto my back and clutch my stomach. “Nothing makes sense!” I giggle. Gabby is confused, but she laughs with me; the way sane people do to keep the crazies calm.

  “Why are we laughing?” Gabby tries to smile, but it’s more of a grimace.

  “I don’t know! Nothing makes sense!” I repeat hysterically. “I think I’ve gone mad!”

  “We have a consensus!” Gabby chews her lip uncomfortably. “Ella, you’re kind of scaring me.”

  “Sorry.” I wipe away the remaining tears. “I’m just so confused about… life, I guess.”

  “Me too. Have you heard about the epidemic?”

  I stand and nestle into Gabby’s lap, the hysteria passing. “Bits and pieces. A lot of people are dying from it, but I don’t really understand what it is.”

  “It’s a virus that only affects those with a certain blood type,” she says as if reading from a book. “O Positive is the most common blood type, and it’s the only one that isn’t immune to this virus.” She pauses. “I’m O Positive.”

  “Yikes! Lucky you’re not sick then!”

  Gabby smiles tenderly and closes her eyes, squeezing out a single tear. “I am,” she whispers.


  I flinch. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m part of the epidemic.” More tears flow down her face. “That’s why my parents made me stay here. Grandpa is the only one in our family that isn’t O Positive, and my parents didn’t want me to suffer in quarantine. They’d rather I be in a comfortable place when…” She trails off. “I’m not contagious anymore, you know. Everyone knows you can only infect people in the first week, but my parents are cowards. They don’t want to be near me when…”

  I study her face, only now noticing the toll the illness had taken on her body. I thought her pale complexion was beautiful and healthy, but now I acknowledge the lack of color in her lips and her gaunt cheekbones. This whole time I envied her for being human, when now I pity her for it.

  “What does it do to you?” I ask slowly, stroking her hand with mine.

  “Kills me.” She shrugs, unable to look at anything but her feet. “Makes me lose weight. I have these awful headaches, then my stomach hurts. After a while, your body just shuts down. The doctors say I have no chance. My immune system isn’t strong enough.”

  “That’s why you wanted to make that bucket list! It wasn’t for me, was it?”

  She doesn’t respond, craning her neck to look through the blinds and at the storm that’s still going strong. “There’s a ballet tomorrow that I’ve had tickets to for months, but Grandpa thinks I’m too weak to go.”

  “You look fine to me?”

  “I know.” She grins. “I’m a good actor. Truth be told, every muscle in my body is screaming in agony right now.”

  “But how do you catch it?”

  “They only have theories so far,” Gabby says. “Some believe it’s airborne, others think it could be vaccinations gone wrong. I started showing symptoms after I swam in the public pool three weeks ago.”

  I wince before uttering the next question. “How long do you have?”

  “They usually say you have a month before the body shuts down. We’re guessing I have one week left.” She smiles weakly and scratches at her nose. “So I’m not going to waste a single second crying about it. I’m going to live life to the fullest! And you know what? I’m going to start by going to the ballet! Life is about quality, right?”

  “Great idea!” I say encouragingly, but I know the professor won’t allow it. My tone mustn’t have been convincing, though, because Gabby’s eyebrows furrow.

  “You don’t think he’ll let me, do you?” She slumps in defeat.

  “You know how overprotective he is. I mean, he’s never even let me leave the attic,” I whisper. “But I can perform for you! I know all the moves! We’ll make our own ballet!”

  Gabby beams. “Okay! Just promise me you’ll go to the ballet anyway? It might be your only chance to ever see a live one.”

  I scoff. “What are you talking about?”

  “Grandpa is going to the ballet.” Gabby’s voice rises in excitement. “You can sneak into his coat and tell me what it was like! Please? You have to! Then you can come home and perform the whole thing over for me! I’ll make a stage for you out of my shoebox!”

  “I don’t know…” I mumble, not fond of breaking the rules again.

  “Ella, please? We only have a week left together…” Gabby’s nostrils flare and her lips quiver.

  I rub the back of my neck. “I tell you what; if the professor lets you go, then I’ll come with you. But only if he lets you go. Deal?”

  Gabby raises her pinkie finger and wraps it around my arm. “Promise.” She yawns and gently lowers herself into bed, kneading her cushion like a cat. “Will you sleep next to me? Wake me up if that crazy doll comes near you again, okay?”

  I smile, even though she probably can’t see my expressions in the darkness. My gaze lingers on her innocent, sickly face. I can’t work out if I’m lucky to have her by my side, or cursed knowing she’ll soon be gone.

  “Okay,” I promise quietly.

  Her eyelids flutter, droop and suddenly, she is gone from this world.

  he deer watches me. He’s evil. He has to be. I swear he’s smiling at me… mockingly. He’s the only thing I can make out in the darkness. I know there are trees around, but only because of the way they rustle in the wind.

  I sit in the middle of the road, too distraught to stand. There’s a white light up ahead, just behind the deer. Maybe if I crawl towards it, everything will be okay…

  I decided to hide beneath the bed before Gabby woke up. All girls need privacy first thing in the morning to brush their hair, dress, and take down the puffy swelling below their eyes. I figured it was the polite thing to do before I ask her to take me back to the attic–being there was no way in the world I could go up there alone. I considered telling the professor, but he would probably freak out if he knew I spent the whole night downstairs. Why? I don’t know. His controlling nature is only becoming more apparent the more I spend time with Gabby and Lisa.

  It stopped raining halfway through the night. The sky was still grey and droplets of rain remained on the window, but the storm had moved on.

  “Ella?” Gabby calls. I remain seated, flicking the ribbons on my shoes. “Ella?”

  She sounds panicked so I stand and push back the sheet that hangs by the bed. “Yeah?”

  Gabby kneels on her bed, her eyes beady and red. “I thought you’d left me!”

  “Never.” I climb up the sheet to join her on the bed. “But the girls on TV like their privacy as they are getting dressed.”

  “I hadn’t even woken up yet!” She protests, nudging me on the shoulder. “Here, let me show you something!”

  Gabby groans as she supports her weight on the bedpost to stand, then shuffles towards the built-in cupboard and tugs on the doorknob. When it opens, she drops to her knees and rummages through a box on the ground.

  I walk towards her and stand on tiptoes to look inside.

  Gabby pulls out a dress that is the size of a human foot made from floaty material with large cerulean and iridescent stripes, it takes my eye immediately. A midnight blue sash is tied around the waist, complementing the sweetheart neckline.

  “It matches your eyes.” Gabby lowers the dress into my hands. “The aqua parts, anyway. Not so much the green. Oooh, you’ll look lovely if you tie your hair back into an elegant knot. The way your hair is now doesn’t suit you.”

  I stare at the dress, completely enamoured by its beauty. “What’s this for?”

  “For the ballet tonight, dummy!” Gabby motions for me to turn around. When I comply, she runs her fingers through my hair and pins it back. “Every young lady should have a nice dress to wear, and I’ve only ever seen you in tutus. This belonged to my doll Sally, but I think you need it more than she does.”

  A lump metaphorically forms in my throat. I want to cry again, even though I’m not sad. I never understood why women on TV burst into tears when they were happy, but it’s starting to make sense. Just one thoughtful, generous act and suddenly, it feels like the whole world is at my feet.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, unable to suppress the tremble in my voice. “It’s perfect.”

  We collectively flinch when the door upstairs slams and the professor’s footsteps clobber down the steps.

  “Uh-oh. You have to hide me, Gab!”

  “Firstly, it’s Gabby, never Gab,” she says. “Secondly, what are you talking about? Can’t we tell him the truth?”

  “No.” I run towards the bed. “He’ll hate that I spent the night here and didn’t tell him.”

  Gabby rolls her eyes and lifts me from the ground. She cradles me in her hands and shakes her head. “Ella, a flipping psychopath doll tried to break you. Tell him she pushed you down the stairs and you couldn’t get back up. It’ll be okay.”

  The door smacks into the wall when the professor pants in the doorway, unaccustomedly flustered. He spots me, and smiles for a fraction of a second, before his face droops.

  “Why are you here?” His voice is scratchy, like he needs a drink.


  Nervously, I cuddle into Gabby’s hands. “Please, don’t get mad. I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Yeah,” Gabby chimes in, her voice melodic betwixt the distress. The professor’s eyes dart to and fro like he’s watching a tennis match. “Grandpa, what we’re about to tell you is a little discon… disconcerting, I think the word is. You know Lisa, that goth doll, right? Yeah, well, she pretty much vowed to destroy Ella last night. She was coming at her all psycho like, so Ella ran to get to you, but Lisa pushed her down the stairs! I came out because I heard Jupiter meowing, so I rescued her. I was going to get you, but… well, you’ve been tired lately, and I didn’t want to wake you. So I figured we’d tell you in the morning.”

  The professor sweeps back what’s left of his hair that’s stuck to his forehead. He walks up to us, arms outstretched, and plucks me out of Gabby’s hands. “But you’re both okay?” He asks a full minute later. When we nod, he reciprocates. “Good. Do you know where Lisa is now? I haven’t seen her since I activated her.”

  “No,” Gabby and I say in unison.

  “Well we need to find her!” The professor’s voice rises. “She’s found a way to get out of the attic, which means she could be anywhere! Close all doors and windows and do not let her escape! If you find her, let me know.”

  Gabby scratches her nose. “Ella said you’ll deactivate her for the whole attempted murder thing.”

  The professor looks down at me fondly, lightly tapping my head with his finger. “All things have a purpose, whether it be to create chaos or bring hope. I wished that Lisa would be my bundle of hope, but she’s nothing more than hopelessly chaotic.” He pauses. “She must be stopped.”

  Despite the fleeting relief, I can’t help but dread the moment when Lisa is deactivated. She’s not evil–just troubled.

  Does anyone who causes trouble really deserve to die?

  o what do we do exactly?” Gabby presses the record button. She kneels next to me, leaning in to speak into the microphone. “This thing is like a billion years old! I should give you my tablet.”