Page 72 of The Dollmaker

Searching the room, she saw only simple white walls. There was the chair where she lay but no other furniture. No window. Only a door. She pushed off her covers and swung her feet to the cold tile floor. She tried to stand, but her legs wobbled. Seconds passed as she steadied herself. And then, straightening her shoulders, she shuffled to the door, tottering much like a novice sailor trying to find her sea legs.

She tried the door handle and discovered it was locked. She twisted it again. And again. It didn’t open. Her panic growing, she called out, “Help! Where am I?”

She strained to hear an answer, but she heard only the silence and the beat of her thudding heart. Keys jangled on the other side of the door.

“Help me, please!” A key rattled in the lock, and she automatically ran a trembling hand over her head. Instead of hair, she felt only smooth skin. Both hands shot to her scalp and eyebrows, and she realized not one wisp of hair remained.

Frantic, she stared at her arms and legs and realized in horror there was no hair. She grabbed the folds of the nightgown and saw her pubic hair was gone. There wasn’t one strand of hair on her body.

The door handle twisted, and she staggered in fear. As much as she prayed a savior had arrived, she knew whoever was there was evil.

Hinges swung silently open to reveal a man carrying a tray of soup and crackers. “Good, you’re awake, Harmony. I need for you to eat.”

Anger mingled with fear. “My name isn’t Harmony.”

“It is now, Harmony.”

“No.”

“It’s time to eat,” he said. The matter was closed.

“I don’t want to eat. I want to get out of here.”

“You have to eat,” he said gently. “If not, I’ll have to force-feed you, and you won’t like it.”

She touched her bald head with trembling fingers. “What happened to my hair?”

He set the tray on the edge of her bed. “I removed it all, of course, Harmony.”

Tears pooled in her eyes as an overwhelming sense of loss and hopelessness washed over her. “Why?”

He twisted his lips into what he must have imagined was a friendly smile. “I need a blank canvas to work with.”

“What do you mean?” She teetered, her head spinning from standing.

He placed his hand under her elbow, catching her before she stumbled. With care, he walked her back to the bed and helped her sit. He smoothed his hand over her lips. “You need to eat and take care of yourself.”

Her stomach grumbled and her vision blurred again. The smell of the soup was making her hungry. She ignored the hunger pangs, fearing more drugs. “I’m not eating.”

“You’ve not eaten in two days. You need your energy.”

“Two days?” Heart racing from fatigue, she scanned the plain white room, knowing without a clock or a window she had only him to rely on to mark the time. “People will miss me. They’ll call the police.”

“Shh. Don’t worry. I used your phone and texted all the right people. No one is fretting about you. When they do start to look, our work will be finished. Your transition will be complete.”

Transition.She glanced at her arms and hands. “Why did you remove my hair?” Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she prayed this was all a terrible dream.Please, let me just wake up.

He gently took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. “I know you miss it now, but soon you won’t. Soon you’ll understand, and it’ll all be worth it.”

“Worth what?” If she had the energy, she’d snatch her hands free and hit him. Run. Do something.

He held up the bowl of soup and coaxed her lips open with the spoon. “My art will dazzle you.”

She swallowed the soup, savoring the warmth and taste. He fed her another spoonful and another, and soon the bowl was empty.

“You’re such a good girl,” he said.

Her eyes felt heavy, and her vision slipped out of focus. She felt the darkness creeping closer.

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