Dawn of Eve

by MJ Howson

  “I don’t care!” Dawn shoved the rest of her pastry back into the paper bag and tossed it and her coffee into the stroller. A bit of the coffee spilled onto Eve’s tattered red dress. The doll’s eyes suddenly clicked open. Dawn slowly stood up and stared at the open folders on the doctor’s desk and asked, “Are you spying on me?”

  “Spying? Please sit down. Why did you keep this from me? Your family history is critical to your therapy. Your father’s abuse had to be traumatizing. And your mother’s condition may be hereditary. Dawn, it’s important we–”

  “She was right.” Dawn snatched her coat from the chair and stared at Eve briefly before setting her sights on the doctor. “You can’t trust a caretaker.”

  “Who? Who was right?”

  “Eve.”

  Dawn sighed and shook her head as she slid her arms into her fur coat. She cast the ticking wall clock a look of disapproval.

  “Do you mean something you read in her diary?” Dr. Cole stood up, keeping his voice as calm and soothing as possible. Inside, his concern grew exponentially. “Can you please sit back down?”

  “No. I have nothing else to say.”

  Panic filled Dr. Cole as he watched Dawn struggle to secure her coat. He couldn’t let her leave without understanding what she meant. He walked around the desk and slowly approached Dawn.

  “Have your dreams returned?” Dr. Cole asked. “What about the voices?”

  “Eve ended those nightmares.”

  “And the voices?”

  Dawn refused to look the doctor in the eye. She tossed her sunglasses on, grabbed the stroller, and made her way to the office door.

  “Dawn, this is important,” Dr. Cole said. “Please tell me what you meant when you said Eve was right. Do you hear her?”

  Dawn opened the door and walked backward, pulling the stroller with her. Once in the waiting room, she spun around, banging the carriage against Flo’s desk. Luna, resting nearby, hissed and jumped away.

  Flo stood up, looking shocked and confused. Dawn didn’t acknowledge her and struggled to open the main door. Flo walked around the desk to help her.

  “Stay away!” Dawn yelled as she whipped the door open.

  Flo stopped dead in her tracks and watched Dawn ram the carriage through the doorway, clipping the frame. As Dawn disappeared down the hallway, Flo slowly walked to the exit and closed the door. She turned to her husband and asked, “What the hell happened?”

  Dr. Cole joined his wife in the waiting room and said, “Her mental state. It’s . . . it’s . . . .”

  “You told me this isn’t postpartum. What is it?”

  “It’s . . . worse than I thought.”

  ∞∞∞

  Dawn took long strides as she pushed the carriage along the High Line. She wasn’t ready to go home and needed to de-stress. Inside the stroller, her coffee, now ice cold, sloshed around in the open cup, spilling chestnut-hued stains against Eve’s dress and the white satin lining. The doll’s jewel-like open eyes reflected the nearby towering Spire. Pedestrians quickly moved aside as Dawn rushed along.

  “They both lied!” Dawn flipped her sunglasses atop her head and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “All these months trusting him. How long has he known the truth about my mother? How long has he known Jacob?”

  As Dawn maneuvered around an elderly couple holding hands, she bumped the legs of someone leaning against the railing. The person turned around and cried out in pain. Dawn ignored their cries and continued onward.

  “Miss Easton?” asked a voice from behind her.

  Dawn stopped and looked back. The woman she’d hit took a few steps forward, limping slightly. The stranger smiled as she sipped her coffee. Dawn looked her up and down and said, “Yes. Do I know you?”

  “I’m Gwen. From New York Women’s Care.” Gwen stopped beside the stroller. “I did your ultrasound back in May.”

  “Oh.” Dawn squinted as she studied Gwen’s face. She cleared her mind to try and recall that visit seven months ago. “Gwen? Oh right, you were covering for Jill.”

  “Yes. That was such a crazy weekend with so many people out sick.” Gwen looked into the stroller. She frowned as her eyes settled on the coffee and wine stains covering the untidy-looking doll. “How, um, how are you?”

  “This is Eve,” Dawn said. “She’s helping me.”

  “Oh. I . . . I see.” Gwen paused and studied the doll. “I heard about your miscarriage. I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you.” Dawn watched Gwen take another sip of coffee. She noticed a wedding and engagement ring on her hand. “You . . . you got married?”

  “Yes!” Gwen held her hand up and waved her fingers. “Labor Day weekend. It was lovely.” Gwen glanced at Dawn’s hand. Her smile faded. “Well, I should get going.”

  Dawn held her hand up and said, “Jacob never proposed. He couldn’t deal with me losing my baby. We were so happy until the miscarriage. Everything changed after that.”

  “I’m sorry to hear.” Gwen removed the top of her coffee cup and blew against the liquid, sending steam rising into the cool air. “If I remember, you were at risk for a miscarriage. Given your history.”

  “That was such an awful night.” Dawn closed her eyes and recalled Jacob emerging from beneath the sheets, his hands covered in blood. She opened her eyes and bit her upper lip. “It happened right after the ultrasound. That same evening.”

  “I know. I heard about it at my next shift.”

  “Ask her,” Eve whispered.

  Dawn lowered her head and looked into Eve’s sapphire blue eyes. She turned back to Gwen and asked, “What . . . what did you do to me?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The ultrasound. Did you do it wrong? Did . . . did you cause my miscarriage?”

  “What?” Gwen took a couple of steps back, stopping when her back reached the railing. “Ultrasounds don’t cause miscarriages.”

  Dawn stared at Gwen and then looked at Eve. She leaned closer to the doll and pressed her ear against Eve’s lips.

  “Hurt Gwen,” Eve said.

  “What?” Dawn replied as she stared into Eve’s eyes. “No.”

  Gwen recoiled and asked, “Who are you talking to?”

  “Hurt Gwen,” Eve repeated.

  Dawn stood upright and stared at the steam rising from Gwen’s coffee. Dawn thrust her arm forward, smashing her hand into the cup. The hot coffee flew from the container, splashing against Gwen’s face, causing her to scream in pain.

  “Baby killer!” Dawn yelled. She looked around at the handful of people that had gathered nearby. “Stay away from her! She’s a killer!”

  Dawn grabbed the stroller and glared at the people watching her. The crowd slowly parted as Dawn flipped her Pradas down across her face and stormed away. The squealing wheels of the Silver Cross Kensington Pram broke the stunned silence engulfing the High Line.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Gwen cried out.

  Thirty Three

  The Last Page

  Dawn flung the door to her apartment open, relieved to finally be home. She pushed Eve’s carriage ahead and let go of the handlebar, causing it to roll until it banged into the spiral staircase. Dawn ripped her brown mink coat from her body and tossed it across the stroller.

  “I can’t believe Gwen caused my miscarriage.” Dawn stopped beside the stroller, recounting the exchange she’d had with Gwen on the High Line. “She’s lucky all she got was hot coffee in her face.”

  Dawn reached into the carriage and retrieved Eve, leaving her purse, pastry bag, and cold coffee behind. Eve’s shoe caught the edge of the cup, tipping it sideways and spilling the rest of the coffee across the white cotton blanket and satin lining. Dawn took Eve to the kitchen and sat her on the counter, bending her legs to hold her in place. Her hands trembled as she positioned Eve.

  “This day’s been . . . overwhelming,” Dawn said to Eve. She shook her hands to calm her nerves. Dawn knelt down and went through her wine collection, grabbing the first bottl
e of merlot she saw. “You’re the only one I can trust, now, Eve.” She opened the bottle and poured herself a glass. Dawn took a sip as she welcomed the tingle of the alcohol as it flowed down her throat. “You’re all I have left.”

  Dawn frowned when she noticed the brown and red stains covering Eve’s face. She ran her fingers through the doll’s matted copper hair and said, “When did you get so dirty?”

  Dawn walked to the sink and turned on the faucet. As the water warmed, she grabbed some liquid hand soap. Once the water became hot, she plugged the drain and brought Eve over to the sink. Dawn submerged the doll, fully clothed, beneath the running water and began to clean her with a two-sided sponge, alternating between the soft and rough sides.

  “You’ve taught me so much.” Dawn smiled as the stains began to fade. She rubbed harder, focusing on the dirty dress. “It’s just you and me now. We’re done with Jacob and the doctor. I . . . I can’t trust them anymore.”

  The running water soon became too hot. Dawn yanked her hands away, leaving Eve beneath the streaming faucet. Steam rose as the water cascaded across the doll’s white porcelain face, soaking her dress. Dawn grabbed a pair of dish towels from the counter and turned off the water. She removed Eve from the sink and stood her upright, leaning her against the backsplash. Water dripped from the tips of Eve’s red velvet dress. Her white leather shoes, speckled with paint, oozed soapy suds as Dawn began to pat the doll dry.

  Eve’s hair remained matted, and her bow unraveled. Most of the coffee stains had disappeared, but the older wine stains remained, most notably the line running down the side of Eve’s face. Dawn had managed to scrub away part of Eve’s right red-painted eyebrow. The dress now had several missing rhinestones.

  “Read to me,” Eve said.

  “Read what?”

  “Read my diary.”

  “Now? But . . . .” Dawn sighed. Her temples throbbed from the emotional roller coaster she’d just gone through. “I . . . I guess that would help me unwind.” Dawn wrapped the doll in the two towels and cradled Eve in her arms. Eve’s sapphire blue eyes remained open as she stared back at Dawn. “We’re almost at the end, aren’t we?”

  Dawn grabbed her glass of wine and brought Eve up to the second-floor nursery. She placed Eve on the changing table and retrieved another towel from the drawer. She patted the doll a few times, flipping her over in the process. Eve’s eyes clicked and clacked as Dawn spun her around. Finally, Dawn placed Eve on her back on a fresh towel. Eve’s eyes slowly closed. Dawn turned on the nightlight projector, setting the color pattern to a rainbow setting. She glanced at the nearby gel beads and realized she could barely smell them.

  “I’ll be right back,” Dawn said.

  Dawn ran upstairs and dove beneath her bed to get the diary from the wooden box. Her fertility pills rattled inside as she slid the container across the carpet. Dawn ran her fingers across the cherry wood’s ornate carvings. She flipped the box open and welcomed the smell of cedar. Dawn took a moment to stare at the bottle of fertility pills resting beside the diary. She grabbed the small leather book and held it to her face, inhaling its earthy, slightly smoky scent.

  She pulled herself up from the floor and brought the diary back down to the nursery. The sunlight coming in through the windows made the nebula display drifting across the ceiling hard to see.

  “Evelyn, close the curtains in the nursery.”

  “Closing the curtains,” the voice assistant replied.

  The motorized drapes slowly expanded as they made their way across the window, darkening the room. Dawn walked over to the changing table, the top now covered in water from Eve’s wet towels. She picked up Eve and carried her to the rocking chair near the window. The edges of the curtains allowed just enough light through for her to clearly see the diary.

  “All right, little girl,” Dawn said. “Let’s finish this.”

  Dawn adjusted Eve’s arms and legs to get her into a comfortable position nestled in her lap. As she pulled Eve close to her, the doll’s eyes snapped open.

  Dawn flipped to the first page of the final entry in the diary. She read the opening line to herself. Dawn looked at Eve and said, “The twenty-first? That’s only two days away.”

  ∞∞∞

  December 21, 2012

  Eve sat in her lumpy bed, alone in the vast empty room. She looked around the depressing, prison-like quarters and sighed. The radiator beneath the windows clanked as steam from the boiler filled its coils. Eve stared at the six other beds, stripped bare, knowing tonight she’d finally learn what fate awaited her behind the black wooden door at the end of the hallway.

  The diary in Eve’s hands documented the past year spent in this bizarre camp. She ran her hands across the paper’s deckled edges and then the camel leather cover. In many ways, the diary had been her best friend, having outlasted everyone else. Eve’s hopes, fears, and dreams were in here.

  Eve flipped through the pages, taking a trip down memory lane. Her knuckles ached from the drafty air that filled the room. She pulled her bright red flannel blanket closer to her body. Eve couldn’t help but smile as she scanned through the pages. There had been birthdays, hiking trips, campfires, games, and schooling. She had to admit that, despite the isolation, there had been joyous moments. She missed the friends she’d made and wondered if she’d ever see any of them again.

  Her birthday party earlier this evening had been rather odd. With the other kids gone, Eve expected it to be just her and Caretaker. The attendance of Father John and Mother Martha surprised her. Eve’s parent’s, as expected, didn’t participate, making the party rather depressing from her point of view.

  The lock to the bedroom door snapped open. Eve closed her diary and tucked it beneath her pillow. Caretaker slowly entered the room carrying a single glass of water. Eve found it odd seeing her without her tray.

  “Hello, Eve,” Caretaker said.

  “Hey,” Eve replied.

  “Did you enjoy your party tonight?”

  “Party?” Eve shook her head and rolled her eyes.

  “How about the red velvet cake?”

  “It was good,” Eve said. She sat upright as Caretaker came and sat on the edge of her bed. Eve took the glass of water from her and took a small sip.

  “Good. I’ve never made one of those before.” Caretaker took the glass from Eve and placed it on the nightstand beside the bed. She then took Eve’s hand in hers and said, “I know you’re worried about tonight. There’s nothing to fear.”

  Eve glanced up at the towering cedar-lined armoire across from her bed. The serpent’s eyes atop the black walnut cabinet seemed to stare back at her. A sense of doom washed over Eve.

  “Then why is nobody allowed behind that door?” Eve asked. “Or that gate?”

  “We’ve talked about this before, Eve. And I don’t like that tone of yours.”

  “That whole part of the camp’s a big mystery. You never tell any of us what goes on over there.”

  Caretaker crossed her arms and forced a smile to appear.

  “Rules are rules, Eve. That door leads to your future. And you can only pass through on your thirteenth birthday.”

  “Then why are we celebrating today?”

  “What?”

  “My birthday’s tomorrow. How come all the other kids got their cake on their birthday, but I’m a day early?”

  “Because, Eve, you’re the last one. And your day is the most special.”

  “I . . . I don’t understand.”

  Caretaker ran her fingers through Eve’s curly copper hair. She smiled, stood up, and walked to the door. As she opened it, she turned to Eve and said, “All your questions will be answered soon enough. You can trust me, Eve. You can trust all of us.”

  “I don’t believe you. How come our parents never come to our birthday parties?”

  “Because, Eve, they are busy preparing another party for you.”

  “What other party?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.”
r />   Caretaker killed the light, left, and locked the door. Eve sat alone, cold and confused, in the dark, chilly room. She reached beneath her pillow and grabbed her diary and pen. Eve walked over to the door and turned on the overhead light. Being the only child left, she didn’t have to worry about bothering others.

  Suddenly the lock snapped, and the door opened. Caretaker stuck her head inside and said, “Lights out, Eve.” She turned off the chandelier and closed the door.

  Eve waited for the lock to engage. Caretaker’s shadow could be seen in the gap beneath the door. Eve patiently waited until Caretaker walked away. She sat down on the frigid cobblestone floor beside the doorway and opened the diary to the last blank page. The light from the hallway allowed a dim orange glow to illuminate the book’s pages.

  Eve made her final entry in the diary, recounting Caretaker’s visit. When done, she wrote one last sentence.

  I don’t trust Caretaker. I don’t trust any of them.

  ∞∞∞

  Dawn flipped the page, only to find the next one blank. She frowned and flipped again. There were less than a dozen pages at the end of the diary, all of them empty. Dawn’s hands trembled as she did a frantic search through the end of the book.

  “I don’t understand,” Dawn said as she bit her upper lip. She spun Eve around and looked into the doll’s shimmering eyes. “What happened? What happened next?”

  Dawn grabbed hold of Eve and stood up, allowing the diary to fall to the floor. She held the doll out in front of her and began to shake her. Eve’s eyes clicked and clacked as they opened and closed repeatedly.

  “What was behind the door?” Dawn’s heart began to pound in her chest. “What happened to you and the other children?” She shook Eve again. “Tell me!” Dawn shook the doll more violently. She stared into Eve’s eyes and watched as they slowly closed. Dawn abruptly stopped shaking Eve. “I’m sorry.”

  Tears fell across Dawn’s cheeks. The rainbow of nebulas drifted across the walls and ceilings, spiraling around her and Eve. Dawn hugged Eve and went to the crib beneath the chandelier, gently placing the doll inside. She twisted Eve’s arms, hands, legs, and feet so the doll could lay flat. Dawn stroked Eve’s matted hair and kissed her stained cheek. Dawn spent a bit of time wrapping the blanket around Eve. A few more rhinestones from the doll’s dress fell off during the process.