Shattered Girls (Broken Dolls Book 2) (28 page)

I worry about our planet. What if
we’re
the deadly cells? We’re sure doing a good job of it… killing our host. It’s much easier to destroy something than to conserve it.

Makes sense why we’ll never beat illness. Humans evolved to terrorize the earth. Viruses evolve to terrorize
us
.

Disease will always find a way…

I suppose it was inevitable. The whole mad-old-cat-lady stereotype. I just thought I had a few good years left before I reached the point of no return.

“Ella?” Daniel rushes over, his eyes heavy. “What is it, dear?”

“The cat!” I point at Jupes, who is somehow inhabited by Lisa. “Oh God, Daniel, it’s
Lisa
! Lisa is in Jupes!”

He darts his eyes from the cat to me, then bends over to stroke Jupes’ head. Reaching up on hind legs, the cat meets Daniel’s hand with his head and purrs. “
Meow
?”

“Oh, you sly cow,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “Lisa, that’s not funny! Say something! I’m not mad, you know!” I stare at Daniel with pleading eyes. “Daniel, I’m
not
mad!”

Daniel stands and cups my face in his hands. “I know you’re not, my doll.”

“I don’t like hearing that word anymore.” My gaze lands on the cat.

“Sorry, dear. Just… don’t panic if you hear and see things that aren’t there. You know what the consciousness transferal did to Sianne―it’s likely to happen to you too, especially considering your age. We know it’s harder for old minds to handle.”

“I’m
not
going mad!” I sneer at the cat, who blinks smugly. “That’s
Lisa! I’m telling you! She said she worked out how to shift consciousness into living beings!”

“That’s impossible. To shift into a living being, you’d have to remove the original consciousness. And where would that go?”

“She didn’t go into the science of it all. Even if she did, it would’ve gone,
whoosh
, over my head! I’m the creative type, all right?” I flinch when the cat continues to stare. “
Argh
! Stop looking at me!” Wow. I really am starting to sound like Sianne.

“Okay, it’s time for a cup of tea.” Daniel steers me away from the cat, but I can’t tear my gaze from him… her… I don’t even know what to call the rotten feline-human thing. “It’s been a long day.”

He’s right. It
has
been a long day. Preparing for my zillionth birthday—okay, I may be in my fifties, but I haven’t quite lost the mentality of a twelve-year-old doll—really drained me. I mean, I had to set the table, pick out a dress that didn’t highlight my lumpy figure, and clean up.

Ugh.
Cleaning
. Sure I’m thrilled I have my legs and am walking again. Being with my son and family is more than I deserve, too, but cleaning… yeah, that’s something I’m never going to get used to. Well, re-used to. Then again, after thirty years, does the “re” even apply?

And after thirty years, I feel like a giant now. Gabby calls me a midget because I’m only five-foot-four, but I may as well be a skyscraper compared to doll-me. Any time I get out of bed, I have a mild panic attack, because I forget where I am and can’t understand why I’m so high up.
Yay
for post-traumatic doll syndrome.

“The mosquitos are biting,” Daniel says, leading me past our alfresco dinner, as ever perfectly attuned to my gripes and needs. “We’re all heading inside for dessert and television. We’ll clean up the mess later.”

Keyword:
we’ll
. I know he’ll chip in.

A warm glow comes from our living area, as two vanilla candles flicker in the corner. The smell sends pleasant shivers down my spine. Living without taste and smell for decades really made me appreciate the little things.

The family is curled up on the sofa, their eyes glued zombie-like to the screen.

“What are you watching?” I ask as Daniel guides me to the end of the sofa.

“It’s a broadcast,” Jason says, unable to blink. “The epidemic. People are experiencing symptoms again.”

“What?!” I gasp. “The epidemic was eradicated years ago!”

“No!” Jason glares at me like I’ve just kicked a puppy. “
Nothing
is eradicated! It’s like Swine Flu—it never really goes away; it just isn’t reported as much. We have to face facts: the treatment didn’t work. The vaccinations didn’t work. The epidemic will
always
be around. They’re saying this is a new strain. It doesn’t just affect a certain blood type. It affects
everyone
.”

I reach for Gabby’s… for my
granddaughter’s
hand. “Still. Gabby had it, and she’s fine.”

“It made me infertile,” she mumbles, her hair falling in her face. “So sure, I’m
fine
.”

“There are other options for you,” I say. “And will be even more of them by the time… There have to be! And guys, we stopped the company who started the epidemic. Doesn’t it mean—”

“Viruses have a mind of their own.” Gabby kicks off her joggers; they land with a thud. “I hate people. So on that note, I’m going to bed. Night all. Happy birthday, Nan.”

“Ella,” I correct. “We’re still best friends, Gabby. I don’t just want to be your grandmother. Could you at least give me that for my birthday?”

Standing, Gabby stretches and chews the inside of her mouth. “It’s not fair that you ask me that when all
I’ve
ever
wanted is a grandmother.”

“Gabrielle,” Daniel lowers his voice and narrows his eyes. “Manners.”

Gabby glances at Jason for support, but he’s far too focused on the TV. Sighing, she picks at the black nail polish peeling off her thumbnail. “I’m sorry, Ella. That broadcast just twisted me into a damn pretzel. Darn pretzel. Whatever!”

“Just goes to show we should all know better than to watch the news.” I raise my voice over the reporter’s propaganda. “After everything that happened last year, we know how much the media spins stories. They never mentioned how Chris and his cronies kidnapped people and turned them into dolls. Or how most victims just happened to wander home safe and sound, mysteriously hit by amnesia.
Or
how those who remembered and tried to speak up were deemed insane. Why should anyone believe them?”

Gabby nods, but not because she agrees. It’s more of a “this-will-shut-you-up” motion. She leaves and heads for the spare bedroom. The family is staying with us tonight, which I couldn’t be more thrilled about. I love having everybody under one roof. Especially with news like this to liven up a birthday.

When the program switches to sports, Jason turns off the TV and throws the remote at Pam, who neatly crosses her legs. “Watch what you want. I’m going to bed.”

“Jason,” I say. “Could you speak a little nicer?”

“She’s used to it.” Jason shrugs nonchalantly, before smiling and glancing at Pam. “I’m sorry, my sweetest schnookums. I’ll make it up to you. Will kisses and cuddles suffice?”

“Ugh.” Pam rolls her eyes. “Go back to being a jerk, please. I’d knock you out if you spoke to me like that.”

“See, Mom?” Jason is annoyingly cocky. “Different generation.”

“Not a very nice generation…” I have unpleasant memories of the way I spoke to Daniel during my transitions, and I feel terrible for it. Conflict is
so
not my thing. Not these days.

Daniel wraps his arm around my waist, resting on my fat that spills out beneath my bra. I get that fat feels good to squeeze, but it doesn’t feel good when someone does it to you, no matter how loving it’s supposed to be.

“Are you ready for bed, birthday girl?”

“I have to find that cat.” I stand on tiptoes to look through the window. All I see is the glint of the monkey bars in the darkness, the stars lost behind the clouds. “You really don’t believe me?”

He leads me away from the living room and to the bottom of the stairs. “I believe that
you
believe. It’s physically impossible for Lisa to possess a cat!”

“I bet someone thought it was physically impossible to turn a human into a doll. Or to get my legs to work again. Technology is improving at a rapid pace! Can you imagine what the next twenty years will hold?”

“Hopefully we’ll be around to see it.”

“Don’t say stuff like that…” I glance at my bare feet and wriggle my toes. “I don’t like to remember the years I’ve lost.”

Daniel entwines his fingers with mine and kisses my nose. “Just think of the years you’ve gained. Come on. Bed will make you feel better.”

It’s been a year, and it’s still weird to have a shower. To feel the warm beads roll down my skin and settle in my hair. I have a love-hate relationship with soap. I like the scent of it, and the cleansing concept, but it always manages to find a way into my eyes. I can never catch the damn thing either. It always slips through my hands.

Attempting to leave the shower is… interesting. The number of times I’ve slid on the tiles like Tom Cruise in Risky Business is unprecedented. Somehow, I’ve managed to not die this past year. I haven’t quite worked out how to dry myself properly though. I’m like a kid, always missing parts of my body.

There was an old book I read this year about a girl turning into a vampire. Her senses were heightened and her quality of life vastly improved. She turned into a vision of beauty and lost the need to breathe or sleep.

My life is the polar opposite.

Everything aches. Like, constantly. And I hate swallowing pills to alleviate the pain. My vision is blurry, even with glasses. My hearing isn’t what it used to be, either. I’m far from beautiful and sleeping is the only thing I do well now. Readjusting to life as a human is hard… but strangely satisfying.

I stare at the bed, the blue covers like a calming ocean. It just seems so big. After all this time, it still can’t compare to my tissue box bed.

“Will you be reading tonight?” Daniel turns out the cover of the coverlet, and my heart twists at the wordless welcome of it that I used to take for granted.

“I won’t be able to concentrate.” I sigh, sliding in next to him, the satiny sheets cooling. “I think I’ll fall straight to sleep.”

“That makes two of us.” He switches off the light and kisses me. “Goodnight, my love.”

“Goodnight, Daniel.”

He snuggles in, but I remain upright, twiddling my thumbs.

Sleeping with Daniel is difficult. He snores, and I often wake up with a pillow in my face. I toss, turn, and steal the covers because I get hot, then cold, then downright uncomfortable.

I’ve suggested sleeping separately, but he won’t have it. He wants us to move together like magnets, but I’ve had decades of independence. Then again… he’s had decades of loneliness… so how could I ever leave him?

It’s not long before he snores, twitching sporadically. I throw back the covers and leave, closing the door gently behind me.

I can’t even pretend to be quiet as I hobble down the creaky stairs, so I do it quickly, wincing every time my hip pulls.

Gabby’s door is half-open—she’s never been a fan of sleeping with it closed. I rest my head against the doorframe, staring longingly at my granddaughter. When I was a doll, she used to rock me, and I’d fall asleep in her arms, her breath gently blowing my wig. It’s difficult to contain the sob.

I’m not sure if it makes me a bad person for wanting to cuddle Gabby instead of Daniel.

I barely know how to
be
a person… let alone a good one. Is that why I’m so attached to Jupes?