Broken Dolls

by Tyrolin Puxty

  “Well, I think there are a few contributing factors at play. The fact your parents sent you to live with your nutty grandfather is a bit of an indicator that they know what he does. But maybe I’m reading too much into it,” Lisa adds innocently.

  Gabby snorts, taking careless step down the drainpipe. “That doesn’t me–”

  There’s a crack as the drainpipe bends under Gabby’s weight. She loses her grip and we all scream as we plummet. I close my eyes–I don’t want to break again. She lands briefly on her feet before she collapses to the ground, writhing on her back as she nurses her ankle.

  “It’s broken! I’ve broken it!”

  Lisa jumps from Gabby’s pocket and clings onto her tummy, frantically trying to calm her down. “Are you hurt anywhere else? Gabby? Gabby, listen! Do you hurt anywhere else?”

  “My foot!” she screams, rocking back and forth.

  Sianne appears at the windowsill, her tiny body barely visible against the panes. She gasps and points to us. “Professor! Get in here! Gabby’s broken! She’s a broken girl!”

  “It’s probably just a sprain!” Lisa shouts over the screams, desperately trying to remain calm. “I heard a sprain can hurt more than a fracture. You have to get up, Gab! The professor will hear you!” Gabby’s face turns red as she wails even louder. Lisa springs forward and slaps Gabby on the nose. “Gabby! Pain is fleeting! Turning into a doll is forever! What’s it going to be?”

  Almost instantly, Gabby’s sobs subside. She sits up and winces when she puts pressure on her foot, which is already swelling. “Ow!”

  “Is your other foot okay?” Lisa asks, bounding towards Gabby’s feet to check. Gabby puts pressure on her other foot and doesn’t flinch.

  “The other foot’s fine,” Gabby sniffs, taking jagged breaths.

  Lisa slips back into Gabby’s pocket and lowers her voice. “Then you can hop. Let’s go! And stick to the bushes! We don’t want your neighbors to see you hobbling around. They’ll take you straight back to the professor!”

  “Daniel!” Sianne squeals from overhead. “You’re here! Finally! Look out the window!”

  “RUN!” I scream.

  Gabby nods determinedly and limps towards the main road, groaning with each step. She rests against a tree three houses down from the professor’s. We can’t hear Sianne anymore, but I’m stunned that the professor hasn’t caught up to us yet, despite his bad hip. Part of me wonders whether Sianne was just pretending to speak to him… after all, she’s convinced that didgem-hoppers exist–whatever they are.

  I look back at the house, having never seen it from this angle. We are apparently on the end of a cul-de-sac. I never knew about the rocking chair on the light blue front porch, or the well-kept lawn with sprinklers lightly flicking water.

  It’s only from examining the house that it suddenly hits me. What have I done? Sure, I’m saving Gabby from a life as a doll that will accomplish nothing, but isn’t that better than no life at all? Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. And I’m sure I can convince the professor not to deactivate Lisa!

  And what am I going to do in the real world, anyway? I’m a doll! It’s not like I can go to school or get a job. My only real home was with the professor, I mean, my grandfather, safe to do whatever I pleased far away from the dangers of reality.

  “We have to go back!” I squirm to get out of Gabby’s tight pocket.

  “What?” Lisa and Gabby say in unison, albeit in two very different tones.

  “Come on!” I plead. “What were we thinking? This is insane! Gabby, you’re going to die out here! And what’s going to happen to us, huh?”

  “Probably nothing in the next half hour,” Lisa says. “We’re going to Gabby’s parents. And if they turn out to be in on it, we’ll run to the police.”

  “And then what?” If I were capable of hyperventilating, I surely would be, by now. “The police take the professor away? Then Gabby’s parents? Then she’s sent to a foster home? To while away her last days there? And what happens to us? Either we pretend to be dolls and are thrown away or we come clean and are sent to a laboratory for observation!”

  Lisa doesn’t answer.

  “We’ll play it by ear once I reach my parents.” Gabby closes her eyes and leans her head against the tree. “Ooh, I’m so sick of these headaches!”

  “Do you need to sit down and rest?” I pat Gabby’s hip, the only place I can reach.

  “I wish,” she puffs. “I haven’t even left the street, and it feels like I’ve run a marathon.”

  “We need to leave this area, and then maybe we can call a cab,” Lisa suggests, bumping against Gabby’s leg. “Time to move it, girl. The professor can still see us from here!”

  I glare at Lisa. “Don’t push her! She’s sick!”

  “Desperate measures,” Lisa hisses, hitting Gabby’s leg with surprising force. “Come on!”

  Gabby nods and obeys Lisa, hobbling down the street and wiping away tears.

  When we reach the end of the road, Gabby throws herself to the ground so that she’s sitting like a mermaid on a rock. “I’m done,” she pants. “I’m so done.”

  “No!” Lisa shrieks. “You can’t give up!”

  “I’m done,” Gabby repeats. She closes her eyes and lays down.

  Lisa squeezes out of Gabby’s pocket and pokes her nose. “Hey! Wake up! We’re almost there!”

  “Leave her alone!” I yell, crawling onto Gabby’s lap. “You know what, Lisa? I’ve had it up to here with your nonsense! Look what you’ve gotten us into!”

  This is the first time I’ve seen Lisa look genuinely surprised. “Me? What did I do?”

  “The weather is awfully nice today, isn’t it?” Libby interjects quietly, maintaining her place in Gabby’s pocket.

  “You know what you did!” Libby and her ill attempt to mollify the situation can go stuff it. “You’ve caused nothing but trouble! I was happy until you arrived! You ruined everything!”

  “I think you’ll find that the professor ruined everything!” Lisa bites out, raising her shoulders like a stooped werewolf.

  “Guys?” Libby chips in.

  “I was a broken human!” I cry. “I don’t know how or why, but the professor did what he thought would be best for his family!”

  “Guys?” Libby says again, her voice slightly higher this time.

  “He’s evil! It’s his own sick experiment!” Lisa retorts.

  “HEY!” Libby shouts. “Look!”

  I do–and a chill runs through me. Blood is trickling from Gabby’s nose and staining her pale lips. I rush towards her face and prod her, frantically trying to wake her up. “Hey? Hey, Gab? Gabby? Wake up. Gabby, wake up. WAKE UP!” I’m getting more and more hysterical with each syllable. More useless. “We need a human to help!” There’s no way we’ll reach the professor in time. I glance at the house beside us and leap up. “Libby, Lisa! Follow me!”

  I collect tiny bits of rocks and sticks off the ground and throw them at the front door and windows.

  “What are we doing?” Libby asks, her throws timid and unsure.

  “We have to get their attention. If they come out, they’ll see Gabby and will call an ambulance. HEY! WE NEED HELP! COME ON!”

  “Do we yell, too?” Libby whispers to Lisa, who solemnly nods.

  Together, we yell and toss rocks at the house. Our throws are weak, but it’s the best we can do.

  When the door unlatches, we drop the rocks and jump back into Gabby’s pocket.

  “What the bleedin’ hell?” an older woman barks when the door swings open. She scans the area, but doesn’t notice Gabby partly hidden behind one of the shrubs.

  “Oh, no,” I whisper. From Gabby’s pocket, I yell at the top of my lungs, “HELP! A GIRL IS DYING! HERE!”

  The woman wears a floral dress and a stern expression. She takes a longer stride so she’s standing in the center of the lawn. All she has to do is turn to her left and she’ll see us.

  She looks to her right…

 
Please look left…

  She looks to the front…

  Please look left…

  And finally…

  “Oh! Frank! Frank, there’s a young child out here! Bring the phone!” The lady hurries towards us and instantly checks Gabby’s pulse. She says a quick prayer and sweeps Gabby’s hair to the side. “Frank! Where are you? This girl isn’t breathing!”

  My chest tightens and a squeak escapes my throat. Lisa glances at me from the corner of her eye, but we remain frozen in Gabby’s pocket.

  “What’s all this about?” Frank, a thin and balding man, appears at the doorway with the phone pressed against his ear. He gasps when he sees Gabby in his wife’s arms and shuffles over. “This is… yes, an ambulance. 38 Pinnacle Drive. We have a young girl, about ten or twelve, she’s collapsed in our front yard. She has blood streaming from her nose. No, we don’t know who she is.”

  “Yes, we do!” the woman snaps. “She belongs to Daniel at the end of the street!”

  “Oh,” Frank’s voice quivers. “Yes, we do know her. She’s a neighbor. Will you be here soon?” There’s a beat while we wait for a response. “Really? Oh, good! Thank you!” He hangs up the phone and crouches next to his wife. “They’re only minutes away! How did you find her?”

  “I heard yelling.” The woman’s eyes well up. “She’s so young. You need to get Daniel before the ambulance comes. He lives in the house with the blue porch. Go!”

  “Okay.” Frank kisses his wife on the cheek. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” She squeezes his hand, then swipes at a runaway tear.

  There’s a twinge of… I suppose it must be jealousy in my gut. There was this spark, an invisible light that shone through when they touched. I guess they call it a true love.

  Another thing I can never experience.

  We wait in silence, the distant cries of the ambulance a harsh reminder of our reality.

  ake up!”

  I’m rudely awoken by a soft pillow slamming into my stomach. I grunt as if I’m in pain, but I barely felt it.

  Gabby is beaming, clutching her pillow as if it were a shield.

  “You little monster!” I reach for my own pillow and smack it over her head. She giggles hysterically, just like when I pin her down and tickle her torturously.

  She dodges my next swing and bolts out of my bedroom, slamming the door behind her to slow me down.

  I chase after her, a mad smile spreading across my face. We hurry downstairs and skid to a halt when our parents exchange confused looks in the living room.

  They sit by the fireplace with mugs of hot chocolate in their hands. The Christmas tree winks at us as Michael Bublé plays lightly in the background.

  “Why aren’t my girls dressed yet?” Grandpa mock-growls, heading to the kitchen to prepare our hot chocolates. “Because I do believe Santa visited us last night.”

  Gabby and I gasp and race towards our stockings neatly hung on the mantel.

  “Mine’s bigger!” I brag.

  “Because it’s probably full of coal!” Gabby retorts, scrambling through her stocking.

  “Yeah, and? Do you know how expensive coal is?”

  I pull out my first present–a Lea Doll. Lea Dolls are collectable dancing dolls, each with their own background story, dance style preference, and fashion sense. I have Brightly–the too cool for school dancer with bright red hair and an affinity for rap music. I squeal and shove the box into Gabby’s face.

  “So what?” She pulls out a matching box. “I got Starful–the Spanish ballet chica!”

  My jaw hangs open with jealousy. “Swap?”

  “No way!” Gabby cuddles her box. “But we’ll definitely share them?”

  “Well, duh!” I grin.

  The remaining presents include less exciting items, such as underpants, flashlights, drink bottles, dresses, books, and a sled for Gabby and me to ride together.

  “Could we play with the sled now?” Gabby begs, rolling up her pajama sleeves.

  “There are no hills around!” Mom protests, followed by a chuckle and a noisy slurp of her drink. “We’re leaving for the mountains in two days, you two can use it then.”

  “I guess we have our dolls to play with until then.” Gabby pouts, poking at a Christmas tree ornament as Uncle Greg and Aunt Fay begin carving into the turkey in the kitchen. In unison, Gabby, Grandpa, and my parents glance into the kitchen.

  “Are we ready to feel fat and tired?” Uncle Greg inquires, dishing the eagerly anticipated meal onto our plates.

  We all murmur excitedly and seat ourselves at the dining table. Gabby and I fight over who gets to sit next to Grandpa, until he calmly pulls our chairs so that we end up on either side of him.

  Grandpa’s the best.

  “Shall we toast?” My father asks, raising his sparkling water in the air. I don’t know why, but I’ve never been able to see his face. It’s just a black hole covering his features. The same goes for Uncle Greg and Aunt Fay. Their bodies and hair are clear, but they are without noses, eyes, and mouths. It’s probably because I don’t remember what they really look like, and my imagination can’t create a face out of thin air.

  I gaze at my mother. Her features are large and doll-like, and her head bobbles on her thin neck.

  I grimly turn to look at Gabby, her glowing face slowly morphing into a pale, gaunt substitute.

  The color drains from my perfect scene, until our warm Christmas is completely replaced with white walls, a beeping machine, and a doctor at the foot of Gabby’s bed.

  he doctor is young–I’m guessing he’s in his thirties. His dark hair is swept to the side, and his coat looks a little too big for him.

  “Prognosis?” The professor asks, rubbing his face.

  “She overexerted herself.” The doctor makes a show of checking his chart. “With her condition, there’s no way she should be doing anything physical.”

  “We went to the ballet a few days ago.” The professor’s voice trembles, and I feel like a heel. “Should I not have taken her?” Should I not have encouraged her to go?

  “No, that would have been fine,” the doctor reassures. “I’m talking about running, climbing. She has a sprained ankle, and you said your neighbors found her on their lawn?” The professor nods so the doctor continues. “Excuse me if this offends you, but do you have cause to believe she was running away from home?”

  “No,” the professor croaks, his shoulders shaking when he inhales. “No, everything was fine.”

  “We see a lot of this behavior in our epidemic patients.” The doctor tucks his chart underneath his arm and tries to smile supportively. “Especially in the younger ones. They try to run from their problems–literally–and only end up here. Towards the end, they start having vivid hallucinations. One young boy was convinced he was a human trapped in a dog’s body.”

  The professor raises his eyebrows and glances at me. I remain as still as possible, but I refused to let go of Gabby when the paramedics let her in. I held on for dear life and let the professor explain that I was Gabby’s doll and that I made her feel better when she was sick.

  The professor slid Libby and Lisa into his coat pocket before anyone saw them. They squirm slightly now, but they should know better than to make a scene in public.

  “Do all epidemic patients imagine they’re trapped inside another being?” The professor queries, keeping his eyes locked on mine.

  The doctor shrugs, oblivious to my disgusted expression. “There are some reports of patients believing that they are inanimate objects, such as kitchen appliances, bikes, dolls.” He motions at me. “It’s sad, really. Gabby hasn’t experienced any such symptoms, has she?”

  “Not yet,” the professor says. “So, will she be discharged soon?”

  “Under normal circumstances, I would suggest that she stay the night, but considering the timeframe we are operating against, I would recommend gathering friends and family and making her as comfortable as possible at home. She’s stable, so I�
�m confident enough to release her. Just avoid physical activities,” he warns, then checks his beeper. “Oh, I have to go. I have been waiting for this consult. Just buzz the nurse if you need anything. She’ll be in shortly with the forms. Take care, okay?”

  The professor hunches and puts his face in his hands as the doctor steps out. He sighs when I noisily scramble out of the gap between Gabby’s arm and side that I’m pinned between.

  “Let me guess.” I yank down my tutu that has risen to my neck. “You’re going to take Gabby home and turn her into a doll just like Libby?”

  “Don’t start, Ella!” the professor growls. “I’m not in the mood.”

  “I’m not working around your schedule anymore!” I yell, pointing my finger at him.

  “I’m the only one who can save her,” he whispers harshly, nervous eyes darting at the door. “Get back into your position. A nurse might walk in.”

  “Turning someone into a doll doesn’t save them.” He just doesn’t understand, and oh, I’m so fed up with him playing God!

  He leans in closer–so close, I see how large his pores are. And funny, I never noticed how light or bloodshot his eyes are. “You know nothing,” he hisses.

  I scoff and settle back into Gabby’s arms. “You can turn me back into a human, can’t you?”

  The professor doesn’t dignify this with a response. He merely reaches for the magazine on Gabby’s bedside table and flicks through it.

  “I know you can!” I press, trying to find a way to catch him out on a lie. “Lisa said the process was reversible!”

  “It’s not. And Lisa knows that. Nice to see you’ve been lying to me about seeing her, though.”

  Like he should be talking. “Why are you keeping me prisoner? Change me back!”

  “You won’t want to go back!” the professor barks, his lips quivering. “Please, trust me, Ella.”

  I lie silently, unsure how to respond. It’s only when I look up at my motionless, sleeping little cousin that I speak. “Please don’t turn Gabby into a doll.”

  The professor looks up from his magazine. “Sorry?”

  “Please don’t turn Gabby into a doll,” I repeat dutifully. “It’s horrible being a doll.”