Dollhouse (16 page)

Their eyes grew heavy soon after. Ethan walked Aisha to the bed chamber, reluctantly letting go of her hands. Aisha stole a long look at him before slipping away into the chamber.

Even here, in the midst of this craziness, I felt a twinge at seeing their stares at each other. I wanted that. I wanted Ethan to look at me like he couldn’t bear to look away—the way he did at Aisha. She didn’t look the way she had back in May. She was thin and drawn now—the peachy complexion gone. But it didn’t make any difference to Ethan.

I hated the confusion that jumbled my brain. He was my friend. He was the one I dreamed about in all kinds of wrong ways. He was also someone I’d come close to suspecting of doing bad things—unimaginable things. How could this be all the same person? I had to decide how I needed to see Ethan, and stick to it.

Ethan and I retired to the ballroom. He offered me the daybed—and I took it gratefully. My back and neck were still sore.

I couldn’t settle to sleep. Not with the doll and clown roaming the nights. I wanted to tell Ethan about the toys traveling down the passage—but I was worried he’d lie in wait and try to attack them. He was from wild Captain Thunderbolt bushranger stock, after all.

Jessamine and the toys came just after the gong of midnight—just like before. The scraping of the clown along the rock floor vibrated down my bones—as though my bones were being scraped by the clown too.

I watched the trio disappear—the glow of the lamp bulging on the tunnel walls before disappearing.

A dark figure ran tentatively along the corridor.

Missouri
.

Was she heading into the tunnel too? I remained still.

But she ran into the ballroom, twisting her head about. I stepped out from my hiding place.

“Missouri?”

She jumped. “Yes—I have to talk with you.”

I nodded.

“I had to wait until Jessamine and the guardians were gone. I think Jessamine is happy you and the boy are not sleeping in the bed chamber—she would not want me talking with you.”

“Will you tell me who I’m really talking to? I’m guessing your name is not really Missouri.”

“Molly. Molly Parkes.”

“You were the thirteen year old runaway ….”

“Yes.”

“Oh God—that was around five years ago, right? You’ve been here all that time.”

“I didn’t even know what year it was, until Aisha came in. Sophronia has been here maybe three years, and Philly—almost a year.”

“Who is she—Sophronia? “

“I don’t know. She’s never let us know anything about her. And she never speaks.”

 “I know that Philomena’s real name is Frances.”

“Yes. She was just three—a baby when she came in here. She might be four by now—or five. She didn’t know what day her birthday was.” She blanched. “But you must never, ever call us by our real names. Don’t even think of us in terms of who we really are.  You need to trust me on that.”

“I understand... Missouri.”

“Thank you. Now I need you to tell me—why are you here? There’s never been more than one at a time brought in before.”

“We weren’t... brought in. We found our way in. We were looking for Aisha—Angeline.”

Her eyes widened. “Do any others know where you are?”

I didn’t know whether to say yes or no. Telling anyone that no one knew we were here seemed a bad idea.

“I think so, I mean yes. Anyway, we have our tents out there in the woods. Someone will find them soon.”

Missouri wrung her hands. “I had no hope of rescue—none at all—until you came along.”

Questions sharpened in my mind.

“Why won’t the carousel work—the one that blocks the way out of here?”

“Have you seen how the other carousel works?” she said bitterly. “It works on a whim, on a wish.”

I didn’t understand. But I sensed there was nothing further she could tell me about the carousel.

“There's so many things I want to know about this place.” The words tumbled from my mouth. “I tried to ask Jessamine and Aisha—but I didn’t find out what I need to know.”

“Never ask Jessamine anything. Not Ever. Understand?”

“I understand. But please, tell me about her. And those horrible marks on her neck.  Who did that to her?”

“Jessamine... is not who she seems.”

“What’s her real name?”

“Jessamine
is
her real name. I’ve seen it engraved on her locket.”

“I haven’t seen her wear a locket?”

“She keeps it hidden. I saw her with it once, but never again. I know the locket is painful for her—it reminds her of who she is.” She pressed her lips together. “I can’t stay longer.”

“I need to know. Why does she go in that tunnel—with the toys?”

“We call the tunnel,
The Dark Way
. Jessamine uses the toys as guardians—I won’t say more. Please understand.”

“We’ve been to The Dark Way already—we didn’t find anything.”

“Then forget it. Pretend it doesn’t exist.”

I touched her arm. “Just tell me then... who abducted all of you, and why?”

Missouri’s face drained. “I only know pieces of the whole. You’ll need to find
The First One
, and discover her secrets, if you want to know more.”

“The first one? Jessamine?”

“No, not Jessamine. I can’t stay longer—I won’t risk it.”

She fled down the passage. I watched her retreat into the bed chamber—her white face turning back to check if she was being followed.

Minutes later, the sound of wood dragging on rock returned. Jessamine was on her way.

The doll and clown stationed themselves outside the bed chamber while Jessamine entered the room.

* * * *

Philomena zoomed at breakneck speed down the passage on a tricycle. Jessamine hadn’t been kidding about Philly’s speed on that thing. She crashed straight into the clown. She backed the bike up slowly, reverently, gazing up at the clown’s garish smile.

I applied the face paint in the bathroom, and fixed my hair. My stomach hurt—it had never been so empty. I knew now that hunger was a world away from the feeling you got after skipping lunch. This was a gnawing ache.

I
had
to eat. The others were surviving on the food they were given—I had to believe it wouldn’t poison me either.

Breakfast was lumpy porridge again. Missouri had baked some bread in the fireplace—the smell made my mouth water. She set the bread down in the center of the table, and seated herself.

I ate at the table with the others. Ethan ate breakfast too—he and I were slowly becoming part of the madness. I could feel it, day by day.

No, Lacey will come back today—and we will out get out of here.

I had to stay believing.

Jessamine pushed her plate away. “I have some difficult news. The party is postponed. Our guest of honor had a terrible fall today—a flight of stairs I believe, and she had to be taken off to hospital.”

Ethan and I met eyes.

He sent his plate flying across the table. “What?”

“It’s natural for you to be concerned. She’s suffered a confusion. I do hope she’ll come ‘round.”

“You’re playing with us!” Ethan roared. “She’s been dead for days, hasn’t she? Well, hasn’t she?”

“I told you all I know. Don’t take your ire out on
me
.”

Ethan jumped to his feet, grabbing a large knife from the beside the bread loaf. “You made up the fall on the stairs.
Confusion
isn’t even the right word. You’re just a little girl playing make-believe, aren’t you?”

Ethan charged at her with the knife. He held the weapon at her shoulder. “You tell your Henry to get himself down here—now!”

Jessamine’s expression darkened. “You—are a vile, horrible boy. I knew I shouldn’t have allowed a boy in here.”

Aisha raced over, placing her hands over Ethan’s, forcing the knife higher—to Jessamine’s throat. “It’s you that imprisons us! You let us out!”

Missouri took Philomena by the hand and rushed her from the room. Sophronia sat stunned.

The doll and bear—that had sat placidly still for days—moved from their seats. Behind me, I heard scraping, and I knew the clown was on its way.

The doll pushed Aisha, making her fall onto Ethan.

I tried to drag the doll away. It was strong—much stronger than something made of ceramic and soft material should be. Sickeningly strong. The doll turned its attention to me—shoving me. I sprawled to the floor.

The doll laid itself down on me. It wasn’t heavy —just a dull weight. Then it pushed down—and down—and down—with a terrifying pressure.

My bones will crack—or I’ll suffocate... .

Minutes later, the doll lifted itself from me. It climbed back on its chair—as though nothing had happened. I drew deep breaths into my lungs.

Nothing—no circus tricks or magic—could have toys doing those things. They were alive—yet not alive. They were inanimate—until they had a job to do.

Sophronia stared at me, her dark eyes wide but expressionless.

I stepped out of the kitchen and into the passage. Jessamine stood there—waiting for me.

“This is what happens to rude, bad people.” She pointed towards the two enclosures with the metal barred doors.

I took wooden steps down the passage. Ethan and Aisha were locked in the enclosures, hands on the bars.

“They are to stay here, without dinners or breakfasts until they learn better manners. And you would do well to remember their fate.” Jessamine turned on her heel and left in the direction of the ballroom.

I tried to offer words of solidarity to Aisha and Ethan, but no words came.  Ethan shook the bars, but they barely rattled.

There was nothing to do but to walk after Jessamine. If I got locked away too—I was no help to anyone—especially not to Ethan and Aisha.

Missouri rocked Philomena in the big rocking chair, singing her the “Hush, Little Baby’ song. Her words faltered as she saw us.

“You are to read in silence,” Jessamine instructed. “I am very tired.”

I took out a book from the library—any book. My mind was burned—there was no way I could concentrate on anything.

Sophronia read a book of Shakespeare plays.  She stole glances at me every now and again over the top of her book.

After an hour, Jessamine announced that she was retiring to the bed chamber. We were to stay in the ballroom—and to engage in quiet activities only.

The clown stationed itself at the entry to the ballroom.

Hours wound on.

We read, we drew, we sat and stared into nothingness. Whenever I approached Missouri to try to talk to her—the clown moved towards us.

I woke from a short nap—hunger gnawing at my stomach. The clock said the time was a quarter past seven. That was crazy. Breakfast had only been a few hours ago. But if the clock said seven, everyone would soon be put to bed again.

The clown was gone.

I stepped over to Missouri. Philomena was asleep on her shoulder.

“It’s seven o’clock,” I whispered to Missouri. “We haven’t had dinner.”

Missouri’s eyes were heavy. “There won’t be dinner tonight.”

“Because of us—what we did?”

She nodded.

“I’m sorry.”

“You all must be more careful. Her punishments can get worse than what she’s doing to the boy and Angeline.”

I wanted to ask what those punishments were—but something told me I was better off not knowing.

I dropped on a chair beside her.  “Can I ask you something?”

She eyed me with a blank expression, and I knew that she might choose to reject my question.

“How did you get here? Who brought you here?”

The muscles around her brow constricted. “I brought me here—most of the way.”

“I know that—you ran away from home.” I smiled grimly. “What made you run away?”

 She shrugged her free shoulder, running her hand along a length of Philomena’s hair. “I was a foster child—I’d just turned thirteen—and my foster family put on a party for me. But I was just so unhappy.”

She eyed the ceiling, as though trying to remember a former existence. “It wasn’t their fault—I just hadn’t had a very good life. I escaped through a window...  the night of my birthday. I slept in a supermarket car park—and the next day I caught a bus. I decided I was going to catch buses to wherever they took me...  I didn’t care where. I’d just walk up to a bus and ask the driver where it was headed—and whatever he said—I said, ‘Yep, that’s where I’m going’.”

I tried to picture her as a wild-eyed thirteen year old—running away for a life of adventure.

She breathed deeply. “The last bus—was full of retirees headed out for day at somewhere called Devils Hole. I headed off into the forest. I had a backpack full of food...  there were fresh water rivers...  and it was summer. I thought I could hide out for a while...  be alone and just think.”

Raising her eyes, she stared straight through me. “All I know is...  I went to sleep in the forest...  and woke up here.”

* * * *

Days passed—I didn't know how many. My mind could barely grasp their passing. It was like I was two places at once—here, and still standing above the underground in Henry's shed. It wasn't conceivable to me that a simple choice could have ended in this. Surely I could still turn around and walk away at will?

Freezing water pummeled my body. I rubbed myself up and down with the soap with frenzied motion. But I couldn’t bear to stay underneath the water long enough to wash the soap off. I wrenched the tap off with two hands—and reached for the damp towel. Breathing hard, I attempted to dry myself. The cold made my body react as though it had just run a marathon. Giving up on getting dry, I pulled the slip and dress over my head.

I stepped into the bloomers—then struggled with the stockings and boots. Jessamine insisted I dress this way now.

Bending over the sink, I scooped water into my mouth. My stomach griped and twisted. I felt the water run all the way through my stomach and into my intestines.