finger to her lips as if to tell me to be silent. Her eyes seemed to grow a little larger as she stared at me.
The only sounds I heard were the sounds of the trees rustling,
the wind blowing, the cars driving by on the street, and the
occasional animal scurrying by.
“Come closer,” she said suddenly.
I gave a slight shake of my head. In the blink of an eye she
was suddenly in front of me holding my arms to my side. She
leaned up and put her lips to my ear and that’s when I heard it.
The familiar sound that lulled me to rest every night and the
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familiar sound that I heard if I was in a quiet enough place; the
sound of small wheels and cogs working away.
“Mother sent me,” she whispered into my ear.
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Seven
I wasn’t sure how I got away from her.
She had run her tongue over my ear which began a vicious
struggle and somehow I had finally managed to pull my arms free.
Cassara took a piece of me with her after I managed to get out of
her grip. I hadn’t realized that she had razor sharp fingernails
which she scraped down my arms as I was using all my strength
to push her away from me.
I looked down as I ran; she had taken my number from me. I
had a gaping hole in my arm where London had branded me and I
wondered if that would be her proof to her that she had found me.
Would London reward her?
I doubted it.
If she had set one of her creations out to find me it was
obviously to either bring me back to her dead or alive. Another
reason I doubted London’s approval for what Cassara would
bring her is because she wouldn’t be going back as whole as she
left. I clutched her right ear tightly in my hand as I ran.
Cassara had taken a prize and I had done the same.
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This would be my private warning to London that if I could
take a piece of one of her creations, that she herself would be easy enough to break.
It served an additional warning to not send anymore of her
little pets after me. I wanted London herself to come for me if she wanted me that badly but I knew this was the genius in her
working. She would send them out to see how strong I was and
what my weaknesses were.
Grimacing at the pain I felt from my newly torn flesh, I
wondered where I could go now that Cassara had found me. How
long had she been tracking me? I wasn’t sure if she knew about
the factory but I couldn’t risk going back there, could I?
I had too.
It was the only place I knew slightly well enough to be able to
recover and had it also had small, unexplored pockets of space to
hide in. I ran faster than I ever had before; faster even than when I had escaped London. I had to get to the factory before sunrise
because I didn’t know what the sunlight would do to my wound
and exposed inner workings.
I darted around cars in the crossroads not caring that the
drivers who were surprised by me suddenly running in their paths
would honk their horns and yell obscenities at me. I had heard far 84
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worse from London on her nights where things weren’t working
the way she wanted them too. I felt myself becoming exhausted
and I wasn’t sure why. With as long as my body had rested I
shouldn’t have felt exhaustion for at least another half year.
Shake it off and keep going, I told myself.
I could see the factory looming in the distance and for some
reason, tonight it looked particularly ominous and for a brief
moment I felt afraid. I stood in front of the building when I
reached it cradling my wounded arm, my breath coming in
heaving gasps.
Be brave, I commanded myself silently.
I approached the boards and kicked one in. I wasn’t exactly
caring if anyone would notice that a trespasser was inside.
Tonight I was in an unforgiving mood and anyone that dared to
enter would deal whatever had taken over me that caused me to
tear Cassara’s ear from her head.
I pounded my way up to the third floor. As soon as I entered I
made my way to the window and placed her ear on the
windowsill. It was chilly in the room but I wanted to make sure
that my prize would be preserved because I had every intention
now of going back to London and I would make sure she knew it
was I that took one of her precious creations and rendered it
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incomplete as she had done to me.
As I lay my head down on the beaten old pillow that was left
on the cot I used for my bed, I wondered if that was her intention all along. If sending one of her recently made creations after me
would lure me back to her, what did she have in store for me?
Would she kill me right away or would she slowly take me apart
piece by piece?
I closed my eyes and even with as exhausted as I was, my
body refused to recharge itself. How could I have been so foolish
leaving without the book? I’m sure in it was some sort of care
instructions and here I was planning revenge on my maker while
slowly withering away. Grunting I rolled on my side. I could feel
myself becoming bitter and that would serve me no purpose. I
was losing myself in the thoughts that were now consuming me.
How could a rotting timepiece destroy something so solid and
real?
I jumped when I heard something small land on the floor. My
arm twitched slightly and continuously. I raised it so that I could see why it had taken on a sudden mind of its own. In the darkness, I peered at it but couldn’t figure out what the problem was until I pulled myself up to a seated position and angled it under the
moonlight. That’s when I saw it; one of the pieces that was used
to keep my motor skills in tact lying on the floor next to the cot. I 86
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reached down to retrieve it and walked over to the window.
Examining the wound in my arm, I saw where it had come loose
from and tried to slide it back in, but without the proper tools, it kept sliding out. Now I would have to learn how to control my
arm or I would lose my life quickly against London.
I tossed the cog next to Cassara’s ear. Neither thing was of
use to me until I went back. Unless… I grabbed the ear and made
my way down to the first floor with a horrifying plot in mind.
Once I reached my destination I went directly to the table
where I had made my shirt with Morrison’s help scanning for any
tool that might be somewhat useful. I glanced around until I
found the rotary cutter that I had used that night and sat at the end of the table with the large sewing machine in front of me.
As I began my work I couldn’t help but feel a little sick. It’s
like the worst part of London was showing through me, but unlike
her I had to be extremely careful with my arm giving a random
almost constant twitch. What I did wasn’t perfect and what I did
wasn’t genius. What I did was done in a moment of desperation
thinking that I could complete just a little more of myself than she
had done.
After the painstaking part of my plan was done, I retrieved a
needle and some thread and made my way back up to the third
floor with my possessions in hand. I put my materials on the
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windowsill and brought the mirror and cot over to that side of the room. I was going to have to work in the moonlight but if I
concentrated and was careful enough, I knew I could do it.
I took a deep breath and removed the patch that Jared had so
kindly given me. I stared at myself trying to decide if this was
worth going as far as London would. All that stared back at me
was an empty eye socket with wheels and cogs busily spinning
about inside showing through the gaps of skin she hadn’t
bothered to close.
Determination took over me.
With my shaky arm, I threaded the needle and grabbed the
pieces of skin I had removed from Cassara’s ear. Leaning into the
mirror I held a small piece above my eye and used my steady
hand to break my flesh stitching the borrowed skin in place. After all, what was one more set of scars? What was another piece of
skin that didn’t belong to me? What was one more discoloration
to my imperfect complexion?
It took almost an hour with my arm being so uncooperative.
When I was done I stared at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t
believe I had done this to myself. What pieces of her skin I could use covered most of the gaps and left only small gashes where the
insides were still visible. I noticed that the gaps I had managed to cover looked like bruises now and it was because I had stretched
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her skin as much as I could without tearing it.
While it wasn’t perfect, it would have to do. I grabbed the
discarded pieces of skin and cartilage and threw them out the
window.
If only I had taken more of her, I could’ve closed my arm as
well.
I sat down on the cot and put my head in my hands. What was
becoming of me? Why had I dared to think that? If I was having
these kinds of thoughts I should not have left. If I was already
acting like a miniature of London, sewing skin onto myself, I
should have stayed where I was and taken the torture and abuse.
Maybe I should have just let London have her fun with me. I
knew that eventually she would have deemed me unfit to be alive
and took me apart piece by piece, stitch by stitch until I was
nothing more than discarded pieces of flesh, broken bones, and
small timepiece parts scattered across her many workstations
ready to use for another creation.
A soft breeze picked up outside as I sat there wallowing in my
misery. I heard something fluttering about in the wind so I put my face in my chin and looked up to see what it was. I smiled despite my mood; it was a paper airplane. I watched it as it rode the
breeze lazily and landed at my feet.
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I nudged it with my toe.
For something that had glided so gently, it seemed a little
heavier than what I would think a normal paper airplane would
feel like.
Clearing my throat, I leaned down and picked it up and small,
black drawstring bag fell out of it. I eyed it cautiously for a
moment. This could not have been an ordinary piece of paper to
be able to carry that little bag in it and how exactly did it get this far up anyway? I refused to go near the window to shut it, instead I reached down for the airplane and unfolded it to see what it was made of to make a journey this high up harboring that bag.
If I had blood, I’m sure it would’ve run ice cold at that very
moment.
I knew that handwriting so very well and the message that
was written inside gave me the same feeling of being falsely
loved and taunted at the same time.
The words were written like a murderous nursery rhyme:
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He gave you a gift but mine is more true.
I cut around the flesh so tender and young to get
this for you.
I know how much you’ve always wanted to see
through two eyes.
Here’s the little boy’s gift to you on the night that
he died.
-L.
My body was shaking so hard that I could no longer feel the
difference between the night chill and the fear that was running
through me. I stared at the bag and let the letter fall from my
hands. Was she still out there? Was it even her that sent this at all or was it another one of her creations that she had hid so well?
My breath became labored as I thought of what the note said:
He gave you a gift. Only one little boy had given me a gift and
my heart, the pieces that were human, were aching as I reached
for the bag.
I opened it slowly and shook it gently into my hand.
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Another smaller, clear bag fell out.
My knees buckled underneath me as I realized what I was
holding.
In my selfish moments I had always begged London for the
gift of two eyes. I always wanted to be able to see the world out
of both sides not just one. And here, she had finally granted my
request out of venomous hate and deranged love.
I forced myself to my feet. On my way to the mirror, I
grabbed the cog that had fallen out of my arm. I wasn’t going to
let Jared’s last precious gift to me before London took his life go to waste and with as ill as I felt at the moment over what I knew
needed to be done. I stood in front of my reflection and slid his
golden brown eye into my empty socket and wedged it into place
with the cog. I took a deep breath and stared at myself as the
small wheel disappeared behind it. I blinked a couple of times and suddenly the world started to come into place as I had never seen
it before.
Silently I thanked Jared for the gift he had been tortured for
and placed the eye patch he had given me over the side of the
mirror. It would always be there when I looked at it and I would
always think of him whenever I could bear to bring myself to
look in the mirror again.
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A thought had occurred to me as I turned away.
I had to find Morrison as soon as possible because if London
was killing everyone that had done me kindness, she would be
next. Grabbing my jacket, I ran out of my room and started down
the flight of stairs. As I passed the elusive second floor that I
never had time for I heard the sound of something dragging and
echoing dully throughout.
I stopped at the stairway entrance and squinted into the
darkness. Now that I had the precious gift of two eyes, it would
take less time for me to adjust to seeing in the dark.
I took a tentative step into the room and the dragging came to
a halt. I wasn’t afraid as I thought I would be. I think it was
because I was still feeling grief for Jared and anger for what
London had done to him.
In the room I heard something snap and heard a set of
footsteps run out of the room and make their way down the last
flight of stairs. I ran over to the window to see if I c
ould catch a glimpse of who had just been in my home but whomever it was
had been faster than me. I never saw them nor did I honestly care
at the moment, I was more curious about the sound that I heard
before they left.
How are there no lights in this damned—Oh. There it is, I
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thought as I ran my hands along the side of the wall.
With the flip of the switch the entire room became illuminated
and I gasped.
Somehow this room seemed to have stayed intact regardless
of the fire Morrison had told me about. There were the faceless
dolls sprinkled throughout, some with clothes others partially
dressed, and only a hand full had nothing more than a measuring
tape draped around them. The machines here looked brand-new.
There were boxes of sewing tools around the room and new
spools and pieces of cloth that had yet to have been touched.
I smiled as I walked across the room looking at everything in
wonder. I had thoughts of moving my cot down to the second
door as I ran my fingers along the tables; I just felt that it would all seem so much safer here.
For a moment I had forgotten what had brought me into this
room until I heard a noise in the darkest corner of the room. Close to the door on the other side I heard a cranking sound. I stopped
walking and craned my neck to see if I would be able to make it
out from where I was, but I knew I would have to get closer to be
able to see it.
Swallowing hard, I walked a little closer as the cranking
sound intensified. As it came into view I saw a small box and
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with a handle on the side going in a circle by itself. It seemed to be emitting a melody. I took a step closer and grit my teeth.
I knew exactly what song that was but I refused to let it strike
fear in me. It had caused me enough sleepless nights before.
I stepped closer still.
The cranking went faster and faster until finally the top
popped open and a small clown with big evil eyes and a wide
toothy grin popped out attached to some accordion looking
apparatus. Curiosity took over me. I noticed something was
hanging from one of its hands. It looked almost like human hair
with skin still attached to it.
Almost like a scalp.
I took a deep breath and made my way quickly to the box and
lifted the clown into the light. The hair fell from its hand and
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