Dollhouse

Dollhouse is my home. It is my only home. Until my parents kill me. Yes, my parents will kill me when the time is right. They still want me so they wait. That is until they get a child made of flesh and blood (so gross, it stains everything.) I’m not enough for them as I am.

“China,” they say, “when our real child arrives, Doctor says he wants your eyes,” my eyes are very blue “your clothes,” my dresses are elaborate and usually floral related “and of course that hair,” it’s jet black, long and soft. Then they’d stop and sigh, glancing at Dollhouse. “The little house will make someone else happy though, we won’t need it anymore.” Ten years they’ve said this to me… Dollhouse, my own world in the corner of their large living room.

Like me, Dollhouse is lonely sometimes, since I’m the only one ever in here. My parents never sit with me in my living room or tuck me into my dainty bed. To be fair, they can’t, they’re far too big. No, we sit on their couch and by the fireplace that likes to make my body shine when it looks at me. Sometimes I hop and Mother will carefully put me on the kitchen counter while they cook what they call food. I don’t eat. It bothers Father, he turns his nose up at me during dinnertime.

At night is my extra quiet time. The days and years replay in my head. Dollhouse listens with me. Dollhouse is the only one who knows how I feel, the only one who cares. When the sun wakes up, I get ready for Mother and Father to appear. I make sure I am always there for them when they need me. It wasn’t long before they came in. Mother used to hug me, but now she only runs her fingers through my hair and smiles as she says hello, and Father looks at me with a sideways smile. He has a great smile, even from the side. After I watch them eat breakfast, they hurry out the door to work. Work is everything to them, it’s how they make Savings to help them get a real child. I hate Savings.

Doctor is over for my weekly checkups. He polishes my skin, conditions, brushes, paints, and repairs wherever needed. One year, my eyelashes needed replacing. Today, nothing had gone bad. I always put on a freshly washed dress for Doctor to compliment me on during my checkups.

Sometimes Doctor won’t arrive for my checkups until after Mother comes home from work. Mother’s face is always beautiful, but her expression is often sad and exhausted after work. He would watch her when she wasn’t looking at first. Then one day Doctor didn’t do my checkup at all. As soon as she walked in, Mother and Doctor went into her bedroom for the longest time. I guess Mother needed checkups too. I don’t understand why those took so long.

Father comes home late every day. He doesn’t like to talk at all. Usually, he ignores me even when I sit on the couch with them. Nobody touches. Just watch the quiet television above the fireplace. But there have been times he looks at me and quickly leaves the room, slamming the door behind him. I bet a real child will make him smile. Not me.

The night came and the sun woke many more times. All the Savings my parents had made over the years…a real child could be here any day. Finally, I whisper to Dollhouse “I’m scared,” and somewhere inside me, Dollhouse answers me too!

Sun showed up, and I get dressed and wait for Mother and Father. It’s different today somehow though. They are still in their room after Sun moved over to the window at the time it likes to look at me. I hear screaming. I want to run into Dollhouse, but I don’t want to let Mother and Father down, so I still wait for them where I always do. In the middle of the room. I will still be the first they see when they come in.

Father comes in first, waving a small black notebook in his hand. “He’s just giving you the money out of the goodness of his heart?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” mother follows behind him. “He wants me to be happy and knows we want a child. He has the money so he’s giving it to me.”

“But when were you going to tell me? I had to read about it in this!” Father throws the black notebook on the coffee table.

“I wrote that last night…I was going to tell you today.” Mother’s jaw clenches. “How dare you go through my diary, Hiro.”

Father lowers his voice. “You think I want that man to help us adopt our child? Considering the two of you…”

“No, I don’t! I wouldn’t want anything from one of those women you use every day. But there is a difference here, isn’t there?” Mother shakes her head. “Never mind that. The money itself, it’s $20,000 dollars, can you imagine? Add that to our savings and we can finally do this! We can finally be happy again. Don’t you want that more than anything?”

Father doesn’t say anything for a long time. He reaches for Mother, and they embrace. It’s been years since I saw them do that. It is strange to see it again.

“He wants China now, and also the dollhouse,” Mother says.

All of me bursts from somewhere inside and I run in front of Dollhouse, arms out to the side to guard. “No!” is all I can manage to say.

They look shocked by the sound of my voice, they forgot I was there. Father’s lips curl up in disgust, and Mother clenches her jaw again. My voice feels tight in my throat now. “I love you just as much as a real child. I’m always here for you too. Why can’t we stay?”

“The decision has been made,” Father’s firm voice says.

Knock Knock

It was time for my checkup.

Mother rushes toward me “Get out of the way!” her voice is hoarse. She darts around, recklessly pushing me aside. Before I can turn around fast enough, Father lifts me in the air. I think he might hold me to him, giving me the loving comfort I’ve always craved. Maybe he does lo- smash!

The ceiling looks different somehow. Disjointed from one side to the other, the two images I see don’t match. What I see then rolls out of place and I see what once was my leg shattered across the length of the floor. Sun is shining across it and sparkling off of bits of me. I tried to tell Sun that I’m sad too. But my voice won’t work.

“What are you doing?” Mother yells. “He wants the pieces of her intact, remember? You could have damaged them!”

Father waves his hand at her and makes a grunting sound. “The pieces are fine.”

I can see past my broken body and watch as she tidies in and around Dollhouse, almost obsessively. I can see Dollhouse shiver and sometimes tremble. That is my last glimpse of her before a protective cover hides her from view. I’m scared echoes from Dollhouse. But I can’t say me too!

Father scoops me up with a broom and dustpan into a cardboard box and shoves me by the coffee table. Mother’s small black notebook falls off and joins me in the box. A moment passes and I hear Doctor in the room with us.

I feel the box lifted up, and see Doctor’s face. “Hello, China,” he says with a knowing expression that I can’t reply. Doctor walks me out of the living room, and Mother and Father don’t say goodbye to me. Then my loose eyes roll with the jolts and bumps of his walking, and I see nothing more.

The End.