Broken Dolls

by Tyrolin Puxty

“Please trust me,” he says. As if he’d been ever so trustworthy. “It’s going to be hard.”

  My chest feels tight, that strange distant heartbeat making itself known again. I manage to give the professor a shaky thumbs-up, and he lets us in.

  I can’t see much without the light on. I always imagined the floors to be like the ones at the hospital, but instead they match the attic–worn floorboards and peeling, brown wallpaper. It’s nowhere near as professional as I thought it would be. Towering over me are counters, Bunsen burners, and large tubes or tanks.

  He walks in slowly, and I follow. It’s very dark, but the professor won’t turn on the light. Instead, he stands frozen in the center of the lab, staring at a corner.

  I know what he’s looking at. It’s a tall figure–just under six human feet–typing on one of the many keyboards. Water drips from their waist-long hair, and their dark clothing sticks to their body.

  The figure stops typing and slowly turns to face us. The glow of the computer screen allows me to see one side of her face, while the other is masked in shadow.

  Mascara runs down her cheeks and settles by her nose. Her eyes aren’t aqua or purple–they’re a light brown. She has small lines beneath her eyes, and her eyebrows look thick and unkempt. When she sweeps her damp fringe behind her ear, fresh scars on her wrist zigzag along her skin.

  “It’s nice to be human again.” Lisa’s voice is even huskier than what it was as a doll. She steps forward, but her knees nearly go out from under her. She quickly leans on the counter for support, knocking over a few beakers. It’s only when the beakers smash on the floor that I realize there’s a lot of glass that’s already been shattered. Where did all of these shards come from? “Although, I suppose you were right about one thing. My body wasn’t at the hospital. Sorry for dragging you down there for no reason.”

  “Are your human memories returning?” the professor asks cautiously. “Do you understand why I did this to you?”

  “Of course I remember!” She rolls her eyes, still bent over on the counter. I can’t get over how different she looks. Her face is a lot harsher, especially because of the way her skin crinkles when she frowns. “I mean, sort of. It’s coming back slowly. But just because I remember everything doesn’t mean I condone it! It’s sick, Daniel! You need to release Ella!”

  “You have no right to speak on Ella’s behalf,” the professor lowers his voice and steps towards Lisa, glass crunching beneath his shoes. “What I do isn’t sick. I’m doing the right thing.”

  Lisa scoffs. “I spent a lot of time trying to work out what you did. I found my way into this lab and I studied your notes. What an idiotic design–smash the doll, and the consciousness returns to the body. Real smart, genius.” She begins to pant, like she’s out of breath, even though she just stands there.

  “You’re still weak, Lisa.” The professor raises his hands in an effort to calm her. “You weren’t supposed to return to your human body yet. It’s still healing.”

  “I had to get out!” Lisa shrieks, slouching over the bench even more. “I didn’t understand what had happened to me! Don’t you see your experiment was failing? Ella said she started hurting, started crying! You overloaded the system because you kept adding too many dolls! We all started remembering and feeling things because you don’t know how to run your own lab!”

  “Mistakes happen,” the professor says calmly. “But I can assure you whenever Ella began to experience pain or remember the accident, I would alter her subconscious to suppress the memories.”

  “Professor?” I look up at him and bare my palms, physically pleading for answers. “What accident? What’s going on?”

  He shakes his head. “Not now, Ella.”

  “By all means, continue to lie to her,” Lisa says harshly, grunting as she forces herself to stand without the help of the counter.

  The professor flicks the light switch and the fixtures come on, exposing the human-sized tubes in the corner. There are five of them, but one is empty and has a gaping hole in the middle. The other tubes are filled with murky water and… and… EWW… shadowy figures curled up like fetuses.

  “What are those?”

  “I’ll tell you in a minute,” the professor shushes me, his tone impatient. “Lisa, please come and sit down with me. We’ll grab a cup of tea and talk about this like adults.”

  “That’s the thing, though.” Lisa grabs a micro spatula and twiddles it in her hands. “I’m not an adult. I’m a kid.”

  Without any warning, she charges the professor, clutching the spatula like a knife. She’s tall–about the professor’s height–and he has trouble blocking and restraining her.

  I scream helplessly and take cover underneath one of the stools. If only I could help! If only I weren’t a doll!

  “Lisa!” the professor shouts, holding her by the wrists. She squirms out of his grip and tries to pierce his skin with the micro spatula. “Calm down! You’re being silly!”

  “Shut up!” she yells, pushing him against the countertop. He stumbles and lands on his back, groaning and wincing in pain when he tries to move.

  “Lisa…” This time, his voice is agonized, and my heart breaks a little.

  “Stay down, old man!” Lisa rummages through one of the drawers. She pulls out a rope and tests it by wrapping it around her own wrist. Satisfied, she bends over to tie the professor’s hands. “And if you get up, I’ll knock you out.”

  The professor rolls his eyes. “Real life isn’t like the movies. If you think you can knock me out for an hour so you can do whatever it is you want to do, prepare to be disappointed. If I’m unconscious for that long, I’d have severe brain damage.”

  “Well, maybe that’s what you deserve.” Lisa fishes out duct tape from the same drawer and slaps a piece over the professor’s mouth. “Now where’s that dancing doll?”

  I whimper involuntarily and stay hidden beneath the stool, curling into a small ball to conceal the bright colors of my leotard. Imagining Lisa as a doll is nowhere near as scary as what she is now.

  “Ella?” Lisa coos, flipping the micro spatula in her hand like a baton, not even flinching when the sharp end slices her skin. “Come out, come out, Daniel’s precious.”

  She drops to the ground and rests her cheek on the floor so she’s at my eyelevel. That reveals me instantly, and she grins, exaggeratedly motioning for me to join her. I shake my head.

  “Ella, you’re not running anywhere, just so you know. I tied up your beloved professor to show you something. If you know the truth, you can do with it what you will. Does that sound fair?”

  I hesitate. Lisa is so good at manipulating me–she always makes out like everything she says and does is in my best interest. Still, I need to find out how she became human again. I have to.

  I reluctantly step forward out of the shadows and fidget with my fingernails. Lisa sits up and crosses her gangly legs, placing the micro spatula by her side. She smiles, this time more pleasantly, and straightens my tutu.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, too terrified to speak any louder.

  “Don’t be scared, sweetie. I remember everything now, and it’s worse than I thought. We’re not letting the professor turn Gabby into a doll, and you’re going to get the chance to become human again. Would you like that?”

  I look up at Lisa with wide eyes and shrug. I’m getting the feeling being human isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be. “I just want everything to go back to normal…”

  “Oh.” Lisa’s eyebrows arch, and her mouth forms a perfect ‘O’. She shakes her head and continues with more enthusiasm. “Good answer. Everything will be back to normal.”

  We stare at each other in silence for a moment, and I get the strong urge to run away. I lift my foot to run, but I’m frozen in fear, allowing Lisa to determine my destiny.

  It happens in slow motion, but I do nothing. Lisa stands, her shadow engulfing every shred of hope, of choice.

  She raises her shoe above my head, and it hovers for
a moment.

  “It’ll only hurt for a second,” she says.

  The pain lasts a lot longer than a second. I’m blinded by the view of the shoe crushing into my face and suffocated by the weight behind it. I hear myself bend and break and feel my body separate from my limbs.

  Once the pain fades, all I can see is green.

  y eyes sting when they flutter open. Misty green liquid cradles me. I try to breathe, but only choke when it enters my sinuses.

  The sound is exactly like the underwater documentaries I watched–heavy with pressure.

  I bounce helplessly and frantically scratch at the glass. When that doesn’t work, I clench my fists and pound away, but that doesn’t work either. I’m so weak, I can’t even move my legs to kick against the glass. Everything is slow in water. Slow and pointless.

  “Close your eyes!” A muffled voice yells. Confused, I make out a dark figure outside the tube holding a… I think that’s a crowbar…

  I try not to panic and shield my face from the incoming force. The crowbar smashes into the glass, and the water rushes through the jagged hole, taking me along with it. I land heavily on my back and roll onto my side, spluttering for air. I gulp the sweet taste of oxygen when the water absconds from my lungs–I didn’t know breathing felt so freeing.

  There’s a strange cramp in my abdomen that seems to spread with each second. It hurts, but I ignore it the best I can because I have more important things to worry about.

  My vision is blurry–and exceedingly painful, like I’ve never used my eyes before–and my clothes feel big and heavy. I instinctively go to stand, but Lisa crouches next to me and shakes her head. “Don’t move,” she says softly. “You’re not strong enough.”

  “Huh?” I frown when I register my own voice. It’s different. It doesn’t have the melodic tone of a singer. Instead it’s croaky, nasally, and… old. “What just happened?”

  Lisa inhales shakily and caresses my face. I pull away, unsettled by her sweet disposition.

  “Do you have any of your human memories?” Her hair is slowly drying and curling at the tips, and she’s taken off her wet duds and replaced them with one of the professor’s spare coats.

  I move my hand into a more comfortable position and flinch when a piece of glass sticks into my palm. I slowly remove it, startled by the crimson liquid trickling along my skin. I’m bleeding…

  “I don’t remember anything…” I say, smearing the blood across my hand.

  “Okay, I was afraid of that,” Lisa mutters, heading towards one of the computers. She types something into the computer and looks at me. “Ella?”

  I don’t respond. I’m too busy feeling the joints in my fingers move and getting used to my chest rising when I breathe. I feel everything–my heart, my teeth, my throat–everything, except my legs. Everything else moves when I want it to, but not them.

  “Why can’t I walk?” Ugh! That horrible croaking that passes for my voice… And my legs. I hit them, but they’re numb. “Something’s wrong with them.”

  Lisa inhales loudly again. “This should jog your memories. I’m just warning you–you’re not going to like it.”

  “Why not?” I ask, but I don’t hear a response. Within moments, I am once again smothered by darkness.

  omehow, Daniel was handsomer once we were married.

  As soon as he said ‘I do’, his face grew brighter. His eyes shone, his cheeks flushed, and his lips glistened.

  He was absolutely perfect.

  I’ve never met anyone who smiled as much as Daniel. He was always happy–quiet, but gloriously happy.

  But how could he not be? He had just started working from home, far away from the politics that were the bane of his office. We threw in our savings and built a laboratory in the attic so he could create a cure for every disease.

  Life was perfect. I had the sweetest two-year old who was exceptionally bright and I got the feeling he’d take after his father when he grew up. He was currently staying with my mother while Daniel and I honeymooned. Jason was born out of wedlock and with our busy schedules, Daniel and I had only now just decided to get married and take a well-deserved vacation. It would be agony to leave my baby boy behind, but I was assured we had both earned a delayed wedding and a week away to ourselves.

  My mother said I was a fool for supporting Daniel. Her words always echoed in my head, “so long as there are cures, there will be disease, no matter what. Nature gives and nature takes.”

  Don’t get me wrong–my mother loved Daniel; she just didn’t believe in him. No one believed in Daniel. Just me.

  “Sweetheart, we’re going to lose our reservations.” I pushed on the laboratory door. As expected, he was rushing from beaker to beaker, tweaking water levels and testing the electric charges.

  He was still dressed in his wedding suit, albeit the tie was loosened and the shirt untucked.

  “One moment, dear,” he said, pausing briefly to blow me a kiss. “An idea occurred to me during the reception. What if our bodies can’t heal whilst we’re conscious? As humans, we are indoctrinated into speaking negatively and believing the worst in others. Our bodies can’t heal if our mind won’t allow it! What if I removed the consciousness so that the body could heal? It’s revolutionary!”

  “It’s madness!” I laugh, joining him so that I can link my arm through his. I stand on tiptoes to gently kiss him on the cheek. “But all the best ideas are mad. Can you do it?”

  “Not yet,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around my waist. “But I will! It will require a lot of testing before I make it public. My problem is working out where to send the consciousness while the body heals. I don’t want to put people into a coma, exactly. They should still be able to live happily and healthily. I’m also working on an injection to help fight diseases in the body! If I combined that with a consciousness transfer, it would ensure fast and effective results!”

  “Daniel, do you mean to tell me you were thinking of that during our wedding reception?”

  “Yes!” He squeezed me all the tighter. “I’ve always said you’re my inspiration!”

  I couldn’t help but giggle like a schoolgirl when he picked me up and twirled me in the air, just like the boys used to do in dance class.

  “I try.” I adjusted the straps on my mermaid-green dress. There was no need for me to wear white, after all. “But seriously, you can have a look at this later. We’re an hour behind already!”

  “My petulant doll.” Daniel nuzzled my forehead. “Meet me in the car while I finish this up.”

  “I bet I could choreograph and learn a whole new dance number for opening night by the time you’re done!”

  “You’re on. What’s the date of your debut, again?”

  “The third. You know, this could really make my career. A star role in an off-Broadway musical! Do you think you’ll leave your experiments at home when we walk the red carpet?”

  “Depends on how rich and famous you are…” Daniel poked his tongue out and winked.

  I rolled my eyes and puttered down the stairs, careful not to trip on my gown. When I reached the bottom step, I allowed myself a moment to admire the cream carpet, the peach walls, and the violet curtains. I loved my home. It wasn’t glamorous or overly big, but it was mine. I could never imagine leaving it. Not for long.

  A shortcut through the living room took me into the garage, where I threw myself in the car and cranked up the radio so I could sing along while I waited for Daniel.

  I’d never felt so happy. Sure, I was sitting in a dim garage singing to myself, but I honestly didn’t care. Not much bothered me, which is why Daniel and I worked.

  I’d only sang two and half songs when Daniel joined me in the car–and the singing. He didn’t know the words, mind you, but that didn’t stop him from belting it out.

  We hadn’t booked an expensive honeymoon–we just decided to leave the suburbs and spend the week in the countryside an hour from home. Daniel reserved a sweet cottage for us called the Honey-Mi
lk Barn. The photos looked exquisite. Roses lined the path leading to the glass door and daisies sat by the windowsills. The bedroom was a deliberately rustic loft that overlooked the living area with its old-style TV and a cozy couch made for cuddling.

  “My throat is getting sore,” Daniel said, slowing around a sharp bend in the road.

  “Oh no! Are you getting sick?” I felt his forehead with the back of my hand.

  “Nah.” Daniel chuckled. “It’s from singing too much.”

  “That’s because you don’t do it from your diaphragm!” I ran my fingers along his sternum. He squealed when I tickled him, trapping my hand between his chin and chest. “Let go!”

  “Then stop tickling me!” He playfully batted my hand away, and I conceded defeat. We were probably only forty-five minutes away, but the flurry of packing and the heartbreak of leaving our little guy for the very first time were taking their toll.

  The road was deserted and dark. It wasn’t usually this dim by eight-thirty, but the trees blocked out what was left of the sunlight. We wound along one of the back roads–the ones that truck drivers usually took so they wouldn’t be penalized for driving over their hours. Daniel ensured me it was a quicker route, but I’d felt a tad uneasy. I always liked people around me and knowing my place on the map–but it wasn’t until now that I realized that Daniel was all I needed.

  “I’m going to rest my eyes for a minute.” I yawned, my blinks getting heavy.

  Daniel chortled. “Turning into an old married lady, sweetheart?”

  I poked him on the arm. “Just tired of putting up with you!”

  “I’m sure.” He smirked, turning down the volume. “Go on, Ella. I’ll wake you when we arrive.”

  I reached for his free hand and squeezed it. “I love you.”

  “I love you, more. You’re my world,” Daniel said, briefly diverting his gaze from the road. When it swung back, a profanity escaped his lips.

  Daniel frantically pulled on the wheel and swerved violently to the left to avoid a large deer standing in the middle of the road. The deer escaped unharmed, but the car rolled once, screeched, groaned, and smashed into the side of the tree.