Broken Dolls

by Tyrolin Puxty

  The professor… Daniel… sighs and cleans his glasses with the handkerchief he keeps tucked in the sleeve of his lab coat. “You really don’t know what I’m about, do you?”

  “Of course I don’t. You never tell me anything.”

  “Of course, he doesn’t!” Lisa’s voice is muffled, but she finally manages to poke her head from the professor’s pocket.

  The professor pushes her back down. “Shut up, Lisa,” he speaks as if he’s lost the will to live. “You don’t know what I do, either. You don’t remember everything.”

  “I remember enough!” Lisa snarls, poking her head from his pocket again. “Like how I was in this hospital before I woke up in your dingy little attic as a doll! I bet my human body is around here somewhere!”

  It’s as if someone just hovered a lightbulb over my head. “Lisa… You meant to bring us in here…”

  “Yeah,” Lisa says, her tone unapologetic.

  “You knew Gabby’s condition was bad. You convinced her… you convinced me… to run away, and you knew her body wouldn’t be able to handle it. You knew we would be brought to the hospital.”

  “Yep.” She smiles smugly. “And I have to say, I’m annoyed you didn’t believe that Sianne was your mother. You’re not as dumb as I thought. She can’t be trusted either, you know. She’s working with your precious professor.”

  Thump. It’s distant, but I feel a heartbeat in my chest again. Only this time, it’s a beat of frustration and anger. My hands clench into fists.

  The professor rolls his eyes and pulls Lisa from his pocket, gripping her around her waist. “Pray tell, Lisa.” His tone drips with disdain. “How do you plan to escape from me and roam the hospital? Your body isn’t here, you know.” He pauses. “You’re far from it.”

  Lisa squints and gnashes her teeth. “Liar!” Without warning, she pulls a safety pin from her shirt and jabs the professor’s thumb with it. It’s enough to make him yelp and release his grip, allowing Lisa to drop to the floor and sprint for the door.

  The professor stands to chase her, but she’s already gone. His jaw hangs open while he stares after her. “Oh crap.”

  “I think,” I say, sure that I’m mirroring his expression. “You’re allowed to say something much worse than that.”

  “She has been nothing but trouble!” He clenches his jaw and swipes his arm at something imaginary. “I’ve only ever tried to help her!”

  “What do we do?” I wrap my hand around Gabby’s finger.

  “We can only hope someone finds her and smashes her in a moment of weakness,” the professor says darkly. He calmly resumes his seat and finds his place in the magazine.

  “Don’t say that!” I stumble across the hospital bed, shocked by how springy it is. This has to be what being on the moon feels like. “We have to find Lisa!”

  “You’re not going anywhere.” The professor turns the page of his magazine. “I’m done with her. If someone finds her, it won’t trace back to me. I’m sick of cleaning up her mess. Like I said, she’s beyond repair.”

  “What does that mean?” I strangle the air with my hands. “Professor, I’m so confused! You’re not painting a pretty picture of yourself! You look like the psychopath who turns little girls into dolls for the fun of it! Heck, I’m not even sick and…” I trail off when the professor’s head shoots up.

  “You’re not even sick?” he repeats slowly. “Where did you get that idea?”

  “Lisa said…” I begin, although now I’m starting to feel stupid.

  “Did we not just experience firsthand that Lisa is a liar and a manipulator?” The professor smirks and then starts to chuckle, almost hysterically. “Not sick! Ha!”

  “Why is that funny?” I fold my arms defensively.

  “Ah, Ella.” He wipes away a tear. “If only you knew.”

  I don’t bother to ask him what he means. I know he won’t tell me. Settling back into Gabby’s arms, I lie quietly, listening to officious voices mumbling in the hallway and the professor leafing through the magazine too fast to actually read something.

  Libby pokes her head from the professor’s coat pocket and stretches her arms. She yawns and glances around the room, batting her eyes. “What’d I miss?”

  he professor’s blinks are heavy and slow. He keeps jerking awake when his head flops to his chest, but he won’t be able to keep it up for much longer.

  He mumbles something incoherent, so I don’t respond. His head rolls back onto the headrest, his eyes closed. This time, he doesn’t flinch awake.

  Perfect.

  I squeeze out of Gabby’s arms and lower myself onto the hospital floor, pleasantly surprised by how clean it appears. I swear the dust in the attic is bigger than me.

  “Libby!” I tug on the professor’s coat that’s hanging by the chair leg. “Libby! Are you awake?”

  Libby pops her head out of the professor’s pocket like an excited puppy. “Ella!”

  “Hey.” I raise a finger to my lips to hush her. “Do you want to come and find Lisa with me? She ran off and the professor doesn’t want to look for her.”

  Libby nods and awkwardly climbs from his pocket, falling onto her head. She lies twisted on the ground, looking up at me apologetically.

  “I’m assuming you were never a cheerleader.” I offer my hand to help her stand. She accepts it and dusts herself off.

  “So, how are we going to get around without the humans seeing us?”

  I glare at Libby, offended by the way she phrased the question. “We’re humans, too. We’re just humans trapped in dolls.”

  Libby shrugs. “Yeah, okay. So what are we going to do?”

  I pause and stare into the hallway, hoping that a miracle will present itself.

  “Hey! What about that?” Libby points at a wheelchair, folded and leaning against the wall.

  I grin. Of course. We just have to wait for someone to wheel by and we’ll jump on.

  “Great idea!” I grab her hand and tiptoe towards the doorway. A peek from the side reveals a person in a wheelchair slowly making their way down the hall. “When I tug on your arm, we’re going to jump in the bottom of that wheelchair.”

  “The part where they put their bags and stuff beneath the seat?” Libby clarifies, nudging me out of the way so she can see the target.

  “Yeah.” I push her behind me. “Okay, it’s coming. Are you ready?”

  “Yes!”

  “Steady?”

  “Yes!”

  “G–wait. Wait, not yet.” I psych myself, waiting for the wheelchair to hurry up. “Okay! GO!”

  Libby and I dive into the back of the wheelchair, bouncing on the leather base. The wheelchair seems to move a lot faster now that we’re in it.

  “Do you have any idea where Lisa might be?” Libby whispers, sitting as still as possible to avoid detection.

  “No!” I scan the passing rooms. “But we have to try.”

  “I don’t understand why, though.” Libby runs her fingers through her hair, combing the frizzy parts. “You don’t like her. You say she’s a liar and stuff, so why do you care?”

  “Because I don’t leave anyone behind,” I say quietly, sinking into the material when the wheelchair comes to a halt. The rider shakily stands and slumps onto the bed, pained moans escaping with each movement. When they settle and the moans cease, Libby and I scramble out and hide beneath the bed to get our bearings. All these hospital rooms look the same.

  “We’re lost, aren’t we?” Libby sighs and starts fidgeting with her dress.

  “No one is ever lost,” I say encouragingly. “It’s just time to figure out where to go next.”

  “So we are lost?”

  “Well, yeah.” I kick the bed wheel. “Where would Lisa go to find her human body?”

  Libby shrugs. “The morgue?”

  I freeze. “That’s downstairs, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “We’ll never get downstairs undetected!”

  “Maybe because it�
�s not meant to be?” Libby scratches at her nose even though I’m confident she doesn’t have an itch. She’s sickeningly well-adjusted.

  I go to say something, but I’m interrupted by a young boy in a hospital gown sobbing in the hallway. He’s holding something close to his chest and stroking it. A woman–his mother, maybe–speaks to him tenderly and leads him into the room across from us.

  “But I only just found her!” he cries.

  “Shh… Settle down, Maddox!”

  I can’t hear anymore, so I pull on Libby’s arm and sneak out from underneath the bed. Scoping the hallway from the doorframe reveals some nurses up ahead, but they’re not looking in this direction. We leap along, vulnerable and visible. It feels like an eternity to reach the room on the opposite side. When we get there, Libby and I crouch behind a plastic plant by the door.

  “She was just someone’s doll you found,” the woman says reassuringly, sitting by Maddox’s bed.

  “No!” he screeches. “She spoke to me! She was real! She came in here, and then the stupid cleaner broke her! She won’t speak anymore!”

  “Who?” The woman strokes the boy’s dark hair.

  “The doll!” Maddox yells. “The doll the cleaner broke! Why aren’t you listening to me? Look!”

  I want to be sick when he lifts the object that he kept close to his heart. It’s Lisa, but her face is smashed and her body is mangled. She hangs limply in the boy’s hand, beyond repair.

  I can’t look anymore. I cover my eyes and bury my head in Libby’s shoulder. “She’s a broken doll.” I sob. “She just… doesn’t exist anymore.”

  “But everything exists,” Libby insists. “Energy doesn’t just disappear.”

  “We defy science, Libby,” I say firmly, lifting my head from her shoulder. “I think the rules are a little different with us.”

  The woman awkwardly snatches Lisa from Maddox’s grip and tosses her into the bin by his bed. He screams and shouts obscenities at her.

  “I’m not going to take this nonsense!” the woman says, standing to leave the room.

  “You’re going to leave me here?” Maddox shrieks. “I’m sick!”

  “You had a routine operation to get your appendix out! Now stop this! I need to speak to your nurse.” The woman storms past us, leaving Maddox to have a tantrum in his bed.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I whisper to Libby.

  “How? I don’t remember where Gabby’s room was. Do you?”

  I shake my head. “We’ll wing it. We found Lisa, didn’t we? I’m sure we can find our way back.”

  “Who’s talking?” Maddox shoots up in his bed. Wow, he has good hearing.

  I keep quiet behind the plant, but Libby seems to have other ideas. She steps forward and waves. “Well hello, there!”

  I stay hidden, silent, mortified.

  Maddox gasps and jumps from his bed, crouching down to speak with Libby. “Did you come to find your friend? She broke!”

  Libby smiles sweetly and nods. “I overheard what happened to Lisa. Do you think you could do me a favor?”

  He nods emphatically. “Anything! I feel so bad for what happened! The cleaner’s mop thing went straight over her… and then there was this noise… and some kind of green mist left the doll’s face… and then she stopped talking.”

  I frown and step out from behind the plant. “Green mist? Did she manage to say anything?”

  “Oh!” Maddox says. “A dancing doll! Cute. Um, she was asking me something like…um, if I had seen a human that looked like her. When I didn’t know anything, she got frustrated and didn’t look where she was going. Walked straight into that electronic mop thing. And yeah, a green mist just appeared from her broken face and floated out the window.”

  Oh my God. Maybe Libby was right. Maybe Lisa still exists. She’s still alive… “Maddox, right? Could you please carry us back to our friend’s room?”

  “Of course! Yeah!” He scoops us up and shuffles out into the hall, wincing with each step. “Which room?”

  I try to follow the door numbers without turning my head or eyes, not that I actually know Gabby’s.

  “This one!” I announce when I recognize the bright glare of the professor’s lab coat.

  Maddox turns into our room, halting when the professor pins him to the wall with his glare.

  “Who are you?” The professor’s still in his chair, dark rings beneath his eyes.

  “I brought your dolls back,” Maddox says, shifting uncomfortably. “I found them in my room.”

  The professor stands and angles his head so his eyes are looking over his glasses. “Give them to me,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically deep.

  Maddox suddenly tightens his grip around us. He gulps, but stands his ground.

  “Child,” the professor speaks slowly, exposing his palm. “Walk to me and hand me the dolls.”

  “It’s okay, Maddox.” I pet his hand. “The professor won’t hurt you.”

  Maddox lowers his head to whisper to me. “I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about what he’ll do to you.”

  “WHAT?” the professor snaps, taking large strides to reach our little hero. He tugs on the boy’s arms, desperate for Maddox to release us. “Give them to me!”

  “Professor, stop!” I squeal.

  “Not until he gives you over!”

  Maddox reluctantly passes us to the professor and nurses the part of his arm where the professor grabbed him. “I’m telling!” He sobs, hurrying out of the room.

  “What did you do that for?” I yell, as the professor lowers Libby and me onto the bed.

  “Because he’s mental,” Gabby’s tired voice says. Surprised, I swing over.

  “You’re awake!” I squeal, bounding towards her to cuddle in. She giggles, weakly, but brings me close. Oh, I wish she really were my cousin. The lie made me feel bonded to her, like we had something special. Of course, even though we’re not family by blood, we’re sisters by nature. And in a way, that’s even better.

  “Yeah.” Her voice is croaky, but still optimistic. “Where have you been? I’ve been so worried!”

  “Lisa ran away. She lied to us, about my mother, everything. I still couldn’t help myself–I had to find her.”

  “And did you?” the professor snaps, his body stiff and his expression hard.

  I nod. “The cleaner broke her. She’s… she’s gone.”

  The professor’s reaction startles me. He slams the magazine onto the bedside table and paces on the floor. “I didn’t really mean I wanted someone to break her! We have to get home! Now! Gabby, come on!”

  Gabby nods at her hospital bed. “I’m kind of indisposed at the moment!”

  “No, you’re not!” The professor grabs the wheelchair pressed up against the wall. It unfolds, and he maneuvers it over. “Quick, get in. You’re fine to go home. The doctor said so.”

  “I’m not ready!” Gabby’s eyes water. “Just let me rest! Please!”

  “Gabby, she’s going to ruin everything! I need to get you home so I can save you before it’s too late!” A vein appears near the side of the professor’s forehead. “You have to trust me! Get in the wheelchair!”

  Gabby turns to me for reassurance, although I’m not too sure how to give it to her. Is there anyone left we can trust?

  I link my hands around her finger to show my support, and she nods firmly. At least, we’re still together. She slowly crawls out of bed, holding onto the professor for support, and drops into the wheelchair.

  “Boy. That was hard,” she wheezes. “I’m not fond of this whole being sick and weak thing.”

  I jump onto Gabby’s lap and wave at Libby to follow. She jumps–almost missing–and lands next to me. We freeze while the professor wheels us out of the glaringly white hospital and into the parking lot.

  He picks Gabby up and slides her into the backseat so she can lie and rest. Libby and I hold onto one another as we rock back and forth while the professor speeds down the road. He doesn’t stop for
traffic lights and doesn’t slow down rounding the corners. Whatever happened to Lisa…

  —A jolt of electricity pierces my skin, my organs, my eyes…

  Everything’s blurry… everything’s dark… everything hurts so much.

  I can’t breathe. I’m drowning again. Water seeps into my mouth, my nostrils, my lungs.

  A dark figure with its arms crossed watches me with a smile on its face… It’s… It’s Lisa.

  don’t mean to scream when we pull up in the driveway. My daydream was just so real.

  “Ella?” The professor turns in his seat. “Are you okay?”

  Gabby tickles my shoulder supportively as I hyperventilate.

  “I was drowning,” I gasp. “I mean, it was a dream… oh, but it couldn’t have been! It was too real!”

  “It was real,” the professor mutters, undoing his seatbelt and slamming the door behind him. He opens the rear door and scoops Gabby into his arms. “Libby, Ella–hold on to Gabby.”

  We do–and bounce on her belly as he jogs through the house and up the stairs. I swallow another scream. Why is he so determined to get to the attic?

  When he kicks open the creaky door and lowers Gabby to the floor, a sense of relief washes over me along with resentment. It’s dusty, it’s dirty, it’s my prison more than anything else. But it’s home.

  Libby squeals with delight when the professor picks her up and places her into my treasure chest. She runs straight to my comb resting beside the mirror and begins to brush out the tangles in her hair.

  Really? There’s Zen–and then, there’s Libby.

  The professor hurries back and cups Gabby’s cheek. “Stay here, please. Don’t come into the lab.”

  “Okay,” Gabby says. She rests her eyes, too tired and weak to protest.

  The professor grabs the keys from the back pocket of his slacks and unlocks the door to his lab. I follow him and stand by his feet, a little unsure about how I feel about finally seeing his lair.

  “Ella,” he says softly. “I don’t know how you’re going to react when you see this place.”

  I look up at him, twining my fingers together.