Broken Dolls (8 page)

I hesitate. “So, there are a lot of dolls that the professor has made?”

“According to Aunt Sianne, yeah. But she was a little loopy, kind of the black sheep of the family.”

I don’t know why her words trigger the onset of depression in me. It must’ve been the mention of family. I have no idea who my family is, or even if I have one. That’s when it hits me: not only am I lonely… I’m actually
alone
.

“What’s wrong?” Gabby strokes my arm, the one with the missing hand.

I shake my head and suck my lips, trying to impede the breathy moans that accompany crying. I don’t last for long. Before I know it, I’m sobbing into my lap, unable to form jointed sentences.

“I… don’t… know!” I push my hair from my face. I hate that it’s not pinned in a bun tonight–it’s just in the way now.

Gabby leans closer to me, pokes my cheek, and gasps.

“What?” I sniff.

“There’s water on your face. I mean, tears are coming from your eyes. Are you supposed to do that?”

I instinctively stop weeping and wipe the moisture from my eyes. The small beads glisten on my fingertips. “Oh wow,” I say, uncertain about the impossibility of tears. “I’m definitely not supposed to do that.”

I laugh heartily, so much that I roll onto my back and clutch my stomach. “Nothing makes sense!” I giggle. Gabby is confused, but she laughs with me; the way sane people do to keep the crazies calm.

“Why are we laughing?” Gabby tries to smile, but it’s more of a grimace.

“I don’t know! Nothing makes sense!” I repeat hysterically. “I think I’ve gone mad!”

“We have a consensus!” Gabby chews her lip uncomfortably. “Ella, you’re kind of scaring me.”

“Sorry.” I wipe away the remaining tears. “I’m just so confused about… life, I guess.”

“Me too. Have you heard about the epidemic?”

I stand and nestle into Gabby’s lap, the hysteria passing. “Bits and pieces. A lot of people are dying from it, but I don’t really understand what it is.”

“It’s a virus that only affects those with a certain blood type,” she says as if reading from a book. “O Positive is the most common blood type, and it’s the only one that isn’t immune to this virus.” She pauses. “
I’m
O Positive.”

“Yikes! Lucky you’re not sick then!”

Gabby smiles tenderly and closes her eyes, squeezing out a single tear. “I am,” she whispers.

I flinch. “What do you mean?”

“I’m part of the epidemic.” More tears flow down her face. “That’s why my parents made me stay here. Grandpa is the only one in our family that isn’t O Positive, and my parents didn’t want me to suffer in quarantine. They’d rather I be in a comfortable place when…” She trails off. “I’m not contagious anymore, you know.
Everyone
knows you can only infect people in the first week, but my parents are cowards. They don’t want to be near me when…”

I study her face, only now noticing the toll the illness had taken on her body. I thought her pale complexion was beautiful and healthy, but now I acknowledge the lack of color in her lips and her gaunt cheekbones. This whole time I envied her for being human, when now I pity her for it.

“What does it do to you?” I ask slowly, stroking her hand with mine.

“Kills me.” She shrugs, unable to look at anything but her feet. “Makes me lose weight. I have these awful headaches, then my stomach hurts. After a while, your body just shuts down. The doctors say I have no chance. My immune system isn’t strong enough.”

“That’s why you wanted to make that bucket list! It wasn’t for me, was it?”

She doesn’t respond, craning her neck to look through the blinds and at the storm that’s still going strong. “There’s a ballet tomorrow that I’ve had tickets to for months, but Grandpa thinks I’m too weak to go.”

“You look fine to me?”

“I know.” She grins. “I’m a good actor. Truth be told, every muscle in my body is screaming in agony right now.”

“But how do you catch it?”

“They only have theories so far,” Gabby says. “Some believe it’s airborne, others think it could be vaccinations gone wrong. I started showing symptoms after I swam in the public pool three weeks ago.”

I wince before uttering the next question. “How long do you have?”

“They usually say you have a month before the body shuts down. We’re guessing I have one week left.” She smiles weakly and scratches at her nose. “So I’m not going to waste a single second crying about it. I’m going to live life to the fullest! And you know what? I’m going to start by going to the ballet! Life is about quality, right?”

“Great idea!” I say encouragingly, but I know the professor won’t allow it. My tone mustn’t have been convincing, though, because Gabby’s eyebrows furrow.

“You don’t think he’ll let me, do you?” She slumps in defeat.

“You know how overprotective he is. I mean, he’s never even let me leave the attic,” I whisper. “But I can perform for you! I know all the moves! We’ll make our own ballet!”

Gabby beams. “Okay! Just promise me you’ll go to the ballet anyway? It might be your only chance to ever see a live one.”

I scoff. “What are you talking about?”

“Grandpa is going to the ballet.” Gabby’s voice rises in excitement. “You can sneak into his coat and tell me what it was like! Please? You
have
to!
Then
you can come home and perform the whole thing over for me! I’ll make a stage for you out of my shoebox!”

“I don’t know…” I mumble, not fond of breaking the rules again.

“Ella, please? We only have a week left together…” Gabby’s nostrils flare and her lips quiver.

I rub the back of my neck. “I tell you what; if the professor lets you go, then I’ll come with you. But
only
if he lets you go. Deal?”

Gabby raises her pinkie finger and wraps it around my arm. “Promise.” She yawns and gently lowers herself into bed, kneading her cushion like a cat. “Will you sleep next to me? Wake me up if that crazy doll comes near you again, okay?”

I smile, even though she probably can’t see my expressions in the darkness. My gaze lingers on her innocent, sickly face. I can’t work out if I’m lucky to have her by my side, or cursed knowing she’ll soon be gone.

“Okay,” I promise quietly.

Her eyelids flutter, droop and suddenly, she is gone from this world.

he deer watches me. He’s evil. He has to be. I swear he’s smiling at me… mockingly. He’s the only thing I can make out in the darkness. I know there are trees around, but only because of the way they rustle in the wind.

I sit in the middle of the road, too distraught to stand. There’s a white light up ahead, just behind the deer. Maybe if I crawl towards it, everything will be okay…

I decided to hide beneath the bed before Gabby woke up. All girls need privacy first thing in the morning to brush their hair, dress, and take down the puffy swelling below their eyes. I figured it was the polite thing to do before I ask her to take me back to the attic–being there was no way in the world I could go up there alone. I considered telling the professor, but he would probably freak out if he knew I spent the whole night downstairs. Why? I don’t know. His controlling nature is only becoming more apparent the more I spend time with Gabby and Lisa.

It stopped raining halfway through the night. The sky was still grey and droplets of rain remained on the window, but the storm had moved on.

“Ella?” Gabby calls. I remain seated, flicking the ribbons on my shoes. “Ella?”

She sounds panicked so I stand and push back the sheet that hangs by the bed. “Yeah?”

Gabby kneels on her bed, her eyes beady and red. “I thought you’d left me!”

“Never.” I climb up the sheet to join her on the bed. “But the girls on TV like their privacy as they are getting dressed.”

“I hadn’t even woken up yet!” She protests, nudging me on the shoulder. “Here, let me show you something!”

Gabby groans as she supports her weight on the bedpost to stand, then shuffles towards the built-in cupboard and tugs on the doorknob. When it opens, she drops to her knees and rummages through a box on the ground.

I walk towards her and stand on tiptoes to look inside.

Gabby pulls out a dress that is the size of a human foot made from floaty material with large cerulean and iridescent stripes, it takes my eye immediately. A midnight blue sash is tied around the waist, complementing the sweetheart neckline.

“It matches your eyes.” Gabby lowers the dress into my hands. “The aqua parts, anyway. Not so much the green. Oooh, you’ll look lovely if you tie your hair back into an elegant knot. The way your hair is now doesn’t suit you.”

I stare at the dress, completely enamoured by its beauty. “What’s this for?”

“For the ballet tonight, dummy!” Gabby motions for me to turn around. When I comply, she runs her fingers through my hair and pins it back. “Every young lady should have a nice dress to wear, and I’ve only ever seen you in tutus. This belonged to my doll Sally, but I think you need it more than she does.”

A lump metaphorically forms in my throat. I want to cry again, even though I’m not sad. I never understood why women on TV burst into tears when they were happy, but it’s starting to make sense. Just one thoughtful, generous act and suddenly, it feels like the whole world is at my feet.

“Thank you,” I whisper, unable to suppress the tremble in my voice. “It’s perfect.”

We collectively flinch when the door upstairs slams and the professor’s footsteps clobber down the steps.

“Uh-oh. You have to hide me, Gab!”

“Firstly, it’s Gabby, never Gab,” she says. “Secondly, what are you talking about? Can’t we tell him the truth?”

“No.” I run towards the bed. “He’ll hate that I spent the night here and didn’t tell him.”

Gabby rolls her eyes and lifts me from the ground. She cradles me in her hands and shakes her head. “Ella, a flipping psychopath doll tried to break you. Tell him she pushed you down the stairs and you couldn’t get back up. It’ll be okay.”

The door smacks into the wall when the professor pants in the doorway, unaccustomedly flustered. He spots me, and smiles for a fraction of a second, before his face droops.

“Why are you here?” His voice is scratchy, like he needs a drink.

Nervously, I cuddle into Gabby’s hands. “Please, don’t get mad. I didn’t have a choice.”