Broken Dolls

by Tyrolin Puxty

  I inspect her, half-expecting her face to come to life. “She is. So she was never a human like me?”

  “Never.” He places her back on the shelf. “Why would you think something like that? You have to tell me what you’re doing here.”

  “Who is my mother?” I demand. “Tell me, right now. What was my mother’s name? What was she like?”

  The professor sighs and takes off his glasses to rub his eyes. “Why do you do this to me, Ella?” He returns to his kneeling position and scratches his chin. “If you must know, her name was Amber-Rose. She lived in the country, several hours from here in a beautiful cottage that had three horses, two dogs, and daisies aplenty. She looked a lot like you and had your kind heart. She was stubborn–a bit like you, I suppose–and loved her animals more than she loved humans. I liked Amber-Rose…” His voice trails off.

  I stick my chin out, a lump forming in my throat. His information is conveniently detailed–the makings of a glorious lie. “And how did you know my mother?”

  The professor hesitates, opening his mouth several times before seemingly changing his mind. “I used to offer my services as a gardener, and sometimes she would call on me.”

  “And is she still alive?”

  “Ella, my dear,” the professor says softly. “Although you do not age, the rest of the world does. You need to remember that, even though you may possess the body of a twelve-year-old girl, you are in reality, a lot older.”

  “How much older?” I fight the urge to cry.

  “It doesn’t matter!” the professor suddenly shouts, his demeanor vastly different. “This is why I turned you into a doll–to protect you from all these lousy human emotions! You used to be so happy when it was just you and I! But now you’re acting like you did when you were human–always crying and complaining!”

  My jaw drops. The professor notices my mortified expression and immediately lowers his voice, frantically apologizing. I shake my head and back away, slinking into the darkness.

  “Ella! Please come back!”

  “Go away!” I run into the tower of boxes. “Deactivate me! Do it if I’m such a nuisance!”

  “I would never deactivate you, Ella,” the professor says sheepishly, dropping to all fours. “I didn’t mean what I said. I’m so sorry.”

  I slump into a corner and block my ears. “Go away!” I scream, squeezing my eyes tightly shut. I don’t need to hear his spurious words. When he doesn’t respond, I crawl out of the shadows and glance around the room. “I mean it! You… you better be gone! You hear?”

  The closet door is closed, and the professor is nowhere to be seen. I pick at my fingernails, a little stunned by his sudden obedience. The professor never leaves me mid-tantrum because he always feels the need to calm the situation.

  Lisa emerges from the box tower, one eyebrow raised and her lips curled into a crazed snarl. “Bravo!” She claps her hands in a slow, sarcastic kind of way. She doesn’t stop until she crouches down to glare at me. “You’ve doomed us all. I hope you know that.”

  “How?” I clear my throat to ease the shake in my voice.

  Lisa scoffs, like she can’t believe I asked such a ridiculous question. “Now that he knows you’re suspicious, we’re finished! Consider this the last time I ever tell you anything. You’re on your own.” She turns on her heel and leaves me in silence.

  I click my fingers together and stare at the blank canvas ahead of me. Lisa is right.

  I’m on my own.

  o, maybe, I’m not as alone as I’d like to be.

  Sianne has decided to take over my chest. And I mean take over. I found her five minutes ago, sitting on my bed cross-legged and meditating. For some bizarre reason, she even found toilet paper and threw it around my room.

  Sianne actually teepeed the chest.

  “Excuse me?” I tiptoe closer to the bed to grab her attention.

  “Hummm…” she chants, her eyes closed and her nose upturned.

  I groan, too annoyed to be polite. I shake the hinge where her knee should be, and her eyes spring open. She screams dramatically, her fingers suddenly bent like claws.

  “Don’t do that! I was in the Sahara Desert!” She yells, her beautiful posture now slumped. “You don’t just pull people out of the Sahara Desert! I’m grounding you!”

  “Well, for starters, I’m sorry for ruining your Imagination Time. I know how frustrating that can be. And secondly, I’m not your daughter, so you can’t ground me. And thirdly, I’m locked in an attic, so I don’t think grounding me will be satisfying.”

  “Cocklewuff!” Sianne uncurls her legs, ripping the toilet paper that hangs by the bed into shreds. “Ungrateful child! Ungrateful dancing dolly!”

  I gently place my hand on Sianne’s to stop her from tearing the toilet paper. “Sianne, please stop messing up my room.”

  She stares at me, her eyes practically bugging out their sockets. She lowers her hands and rests them in her lap, pursing her lips. She looks like a cat that’s been sprung doing something naughty.

  “I’ve stopped…” She says slowly.

  “Good.” I mimic her tone. “Now, Sianne, could you please tell me who you are?”

  “Your mother,” she replies glumly.

  “But you’re not.” I sit down next to her. “I’d know if you were. Even though I don’t have my memories, I’d feel that mother-daughter bond thing. But I don’t feel anything for you.”

  “Nothing?” Sianne asks, deliberately making her lower lip quiver.

  “Maybe frustration,” I reply honestly, straightening out my tutu to avoid eye contact. “How much of your past life do you remember?”

  “Most of it.” She wiggles her finger around my nose. “All of it, actually. Bah-humbug. Stupid Christmas. Gah.” She suddenly clasps her hands over her ears. “I know all about my past! But my brain won’t keep it together! I’m not mad! It’s when I became a doll! Fix my brain! Make it stop!”

  “I don’t know how!” I yelp, panicked when Sianne drops to the ground and scratches at her forehead. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting the madness out!” She shrieks, furiously clawing at the plastic. “It has to come out!”

  “Please stop!” I grab her wrists. She twists so that her feet are by her head, writhing messily as she tries to hit her head with them. “You’re a doll, Sianne! You’ll break if you carry on like this!”

  “Breaking means I can escape! That’s what my brother said!”

  I pause, wondering which statement I should question. “Who is your brother?”

  “Daniel. You know, the professor. Dumb dolly.” Sianne suddenly stops scratching at her head. Instead, she gasps and crawls backwards into the corner. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you. Are your memories flooding back? Please say no!”

  “You’re the professor’s sister?” I clarify, jumping over my bed to chase Sianne who is crawling from one corner to another. The stupid toilet paper keeps getting in the way, and I have to slash through it to get to her.

  “Say your memories aren’t flooding back!” She screams, rocking next to my mirror.

  “They’re not coming back,” I say calmly, raising my hands as if to surrender. “Why did you tell me you’re my mother?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” She sniffs, wiping away real tears. “It’s to put you off the scent! You can’t know what’s happening!”

  “But I don’t know what’s happening!” I wade through the toilet paper until I’m standing over her. “Did we know each other in our human form?”

  “Of course we did!” She snaps, curling into a tiny ball. “We all knew each other! The professor, you, me, Lisa, Gabby… Well, maybe not Gabby….”

  I shudder. The idea of knowing Lisa as a human is upsetting. I can’t imagine us once being friends.

  “I lie a lot. Most of us dolls do,” Sianne adds. “Our brains snap. I wasn’t really locked in that box for long, not long at all. Hmm. Or was I?”

  Sianne starts to chant nonsensically, whistling and
popping her mouth.

  “Sianne,” I say slowly, carefully phrasing my next question, “why hasn’t my brain ‘snapped’ like yours or Lisa’s?”

  Sianne rolls her eyes. “Let’s just say the professor takes care of you. He’d never let yours snap. Also, you haven’t been a doll for as long as you think. You have this weird set-up with Daniel. Weird, weird, Black Beard’s beard. Said don’t look, but oh, you peered!”

  I shake my head to clear it. “And he sent you to make me believe you were my mother?”

  “Yep. He thought it would make you happy. You’re happy, right? Well, to distract you, too.”

  “Distract me from what?”

  Sianne points behind my back. “That.”

  I struggle to see in the darkness, but it’s the professor sneaking into the attic. He’s carrying something into the lab. An odd-shaped bag? But bags don’t wear frilly dresses or sandals. Bags don’t have dark skin and full lips. Bags definitely don’t have limp arms and legs.

  Bags are definitely not Libby.

  ho’re you?” a voice asked from behind him.

  I don’t know why, but the first thing I do is rush straight to my recorder. I press down on the button and speak quickly, my words running into one another.

  “Recorder, the professor just took Libby into his lab. She wasn’t moving or breathing. I don’t know what he’s done to her. I have to tell Gabby so we can escape!” I hit the stop button and run.

  I don’t even remember crawling through the mousehole and rushing downstairs. The only thing I could think of was getting to Gabby.

  I found her sleeping angelically in the painfully bland bedroom. I scramble up the sheet hanging by her bed and crawl onto her chest.

  “Gabby? Gabby! It’s important! Wake up!”

  She doesn’t even flinch.

  “Gabby?” I’d be worried, but she’s definitely breathing–I keep rising when she inhales. “The professor killed Libby! He’s taking her to the lab! Wake up!”

  My voice is quiet compared to a human’s, but I’m yelling as loudly as I can. Surely, she should start to stir. I climb up to her face and push her eyelid open, which only splats closed again.

  I glance at her bedside table, wondering whether turning on her lamp might wake her. It’s only when I jump onto it that I notice an opened pack of sleeping pills and a glass of water beside her bed. Of course. I have no chance of waking her now…

  I can’t help but naturally duck for cover behind the lamp when the light switch by the door clicks and illuminates the room.

  Gabby doesn’t even respond to the professor, who stands in the doorway, masked in shadow.

  “What do you think you’re doing, Ella?” I’ve never heard his voice this deep before.

  I don’t take my eyes off him. Who knows what he’s capable of?

  “I’m leaving, professor,” I say, my voice shrill and unthreatening. “I need to protect Gabby. We need to get away from you.”

  The professor turns off the light. He walks towards me, his slow steps matching his chuckle.

  I freeze, not sure where to run. He grabs me and shakes his head.

  “Now I have to wipe your memories,” he huffs, automatically stroking my hair. Condescendingly, Gabby called it. “I already have so much work, as it is. Yes, I’ll only wipe the last fifteen minutes. That should do.”

  never want to stop dancing. Never. Aerial, split leap, pique, pirouette. Repeat at double speed.

  I don’t care that my ankle twists when I land or that my underarms crack when I raise them above my head. I’m dancing too hard, and it’s wrecking my body, but I need the distraction–this one thing that brings me overwhelming joy.

  Aerial, split leap, pique, pirouette, and repeat at double speed…

  Is this real? Am I even real? What if I’m stuck in some absurd dream? I don’t know who or what I am anymore. I can’t even bear to look at myself in the mirror because I keep expecting to see somebody else.

  Aerial, split leap, pique, pirouette, and repeat at double speed…

  I’m losing my mind and I don’t know who to trust anymore. Maybe, that’s why I want to keep leaping–to protect myself from my world that’s crumbling beneath me.

  Aerial, split leap, pique, pirouette, and repeat at double speed…

  I’ve never spun so quickly. No matter how well I spot, the room becomes a nauseating blur, and my joints complain, squeaking and creaking with each movement.

  Pirouette, pirouette, pirouette, pirouette… crack.

  My leg collapses, and the hinge in my knee snaps. I stop spinning immediately, but can’t control my fall. I stumble backwards, hopping on the one leg still attached to me, and scramble to hold onto something to keep me from tumbling off the table. I’m not so lucky. I fall–forever, it seems–until the dust-ridden floor slams into my back. My waist separates from my leg, splitting me in two.

  I’m in two halves…

  I’m… broken. My worst nightmare has come true. What if I can’t be repaired? I’ll forever be trapped; unable to move, unable to dance. I try to sit up when–

  —my vision is blurred. I can’t discern anything–I’m trapped in green, swampy water. It’s bubbling like a fizzy drink about to explode, but I manage to make out the dark edges of my hands pushing against something unseen. Why can’t I move? I can’t move forward, up, down… anywhere.

  That’s not the worst part. I can’t breathe…

  I scramble, thrashing violently and involuntarily as I instinctively gasp for air, only to choke on the thick liquid.

  Everything grows darker, and my body weakens. It’s a hard feeling to describe, but it’s like my brain is leaving it, trying to protect me from my impending, torturous demise.

  I need–

  “—HELP!” I gasp for air when the murky water is replaced with the attic.

  Remnants of my watery grave still flash before me, but I can breathe. Or rather, don’t need to. I hit the attic floor with the back of my arms instead, assuring myself that I’m back in my doll body, then lie back and stare at the ceiling. Just what in the world has happened?

  “You called?” I recognize the voice immediately and strain to sit up, but Sianne only tenderly caresses my forehead and motions for me to stay down. “I can put you back together.”

  “No!” I rub my head. “I was in green water. I know I was! What was that?”

  Sianne has brushed her hair and taken off her lab coat to reveal a pretty frilled dress with a petticoat. She looks a lot more approachable and friendly now, but madness still sparkles in those huge aqua eyes. She’s carrying a tube of superglue, which she lowers beside me.

  “Sianne? What happened?”

  “You’re not supposed to break,” Sianne says calmly, picking up my comatose legs and readjusting them so that they can fit into my hips again. When she is satisfied with the placement, she unscrews the superglue lid. “When you break, you return to the place where you were as a human, which was that green water you probably thought you were drowning in. That’s why the professor is always so freaked about you breaking. He doesn’t want you to go back to that place.”

  “What do you mean, I return to the place where I was human?”

  Sianne purses her lips and shakes her head, holding my legs in place to allow the glue to set. “I’ve said too much. Next question.” She smiles gently, before flinching like she’s forgotten something.

  “What? What is it!”

  “Three-million, four-hundred and seventy-eight thousand, one-hundred and ninety two!” Sianne yells triumphantly and cackles like a witch. “I remember! 3-4-7-8-1-9-2! That’s the code to my lab! You have to remember! You have to tell the professor! I’ll be free! FREE!”

  “3-4-7-8-1-9-2? Okay, okay, got it! But free from what?”

  She lowers her voice and darts her eyes, grabbing me by the shoulders to shake me. “The more you remember, the less you forget! Daniel is helping you! Little dolly forgot last night…” Sianne delicately removes her fingers from
my shoulders while she stares at something I can’t see. “The didgem-hoppers are watching me again…” She bobs her head. “Next question.”

  I prop my hands behind my head so that I can crane my neck to see her. “Fine.” I think for a moment, concerned that Sianne only has a designated timeframe before she reverts to a less lucid state. “What do you mean I forgot last night?”

  “I remember,” Sianne says with a conceited flare to her tone. “I made lots of noise to make the professor come out of his lab. I hid, but he saw you were gone, so he chased you downstairs. My wonderful brother… it’s my job to tell him when you’ve run away… naughty, sly dollies.”

  I fidget while she speaks, itching for more information. “So –”

  “—you only get two questions,” she interrupts, putting her finger to my lips. “Now we can talk about politics and religion.”

  “Two questions?” I snort. “What are you? A cheap genie?”

  “If I tell you any more, your brain might snap from information overload! Snap, snap, snap!”

  “Do you understand how infuriating these answers are? It’s like that TV show, Lost. Each answer only leaves you with more questions.” I wriggle my legs to see if they move. When they do, Sianne leans her bodyweight onto my legs and shakes her head furiously.

  “Stop! The glue hasn’t set yet!”

  “Okay, okay.” I roll my eyes and sigh, even though I can’t feel the oxygen stream through my lungs. There’s no point in me chatting her up–apparently I’ve already reached my question quota for the day.

  Sianne eases up on the pressure on my legs and curls her feet under her dress. “So,” she says awkwardly, “why were you dancing like that? Hasn’t the professor told you to be careful not to break?”

  “Oh, so now it’s your turn to ask questions?” My response is spiteful, but totally whooshes over Sianne’s head. She continues to sit contritely with wide eyes and curved lips, so I force myself to answer. “He freaked out about me doing anything because he said that I’d break, but he never said what would happen if I did. I just thought I’d…”