Page 14 of Tainted Serenity

Curiosity gets the better of me as I rummage through the box.Curiosity killed the cat, but I’m already convinced I’m going to lose my life within the prison walls of this dollhouse if I cannot find a way out.

A tattered piece of paper falls from the photographs, and I bend down to retrieve it. The aged paper crinkles in my hand as I hold it, noticing the worn edges, and ink stains have smeared across the paper, making it harder to read the handwritten words.

I carefully unfold it, revealing a message that appears to be a kind of letter—the words are unevenly penned, and my heart pounds faster with the knowledge that I shouldn’t be reading this.

My father and mother sent me away to the Grimhill house yesterday at noon. I am not allowed to go home anymore—this is my home, they said. My future husband is horrendous, worse than how my father is to my mother. He has an awful attitude and expects me to go into the chamber with him, but I don’t know what that means. God help me, for I cannot help myself under the devil’s roof.

I.M. - 1965

I swallow down a weird feeling within me; my brows furrowed as I read the letter with piqued interest. The letter abruptly concludes, leaving me desperate to read more. I continue to rummage through the box, eventually finding two more letters as I begin to read.

I have committed an awful sin, and I cannot help but feel ashamed of it. It is never okay to hurt anyone, let alone yourself, but I have, and I implore forgiveness, Father, for I have sinned.

I hurt myself with a shattered piece of glass I found discarded in the bathroom. Initially, it was an accidental cut, but then I continued, feeling the reprieve of the pain. I sliced my wrist until blood soaked the tiled floor, and I was a crying mess. I have an appearance I must uphold as the wife of the Grimhill house, this time a new residence. I relocated here alongside my husband two years ago, but since then, he has been too consumed with playing with his dolls. He wants me to attend to his activities with the children, but I am not sure I can allow that to happen.

I might have to, however, for he has grown increasingly violent. He strikes me when no one is looking; he smashes my head into the wall when I am not obeying his commands. He becomes worse for every year that passes, and I am stuck here with no free will. I never had.

I.M. - 1970

I carry his child, a fact I am forbidden to mourn or even acknowledge. He commands over me entirely, and it is my duty as his wife and woman of the house to heed him. I have become accustomed to it. After all, I have no other choice. I have come to quite like hurting and commanding people, for it makes up for all the many years during which I was powerless to stand up for myself, trapped in a life where I was expected to obey.

Now, I am the one in control of the dolls, yet I will never be free of his clutches.

I am carrying his daughter.

I.M. - 1995

The revelation of the letter lingers like a persistent shadow as I struggle to push aside the unsettling emotions. A woman trapped in an abusive household until she came to thrive on abusing others—what a heartbreaking tale.

Ignoring the box—not having time to search through them all—I approach another one on the opposite side of the attic. As soon as I reach for another box, a loud buzz reverberates from the floor below—a sharp, explosive sound that seems to split the air in half. My heart leaps into my throat at the possibility of what that sound might have been.

With trembling hands, I reach for the box again in an attempt to find the jewelry box Arthur wanted me to find. There, along the corner, woven around a layer of cobwebs, is a casket that must have been beautiful once upon a time. With careful hands, I lift it and open it. What reveals itself weighs down on my heart like an anchor in a dreadful sea, full of despair.

Because there, between the cushions of the box, lies a beautiful bracelet I recognize all too well. Its form is graceful, with gentle curves and a stunning sterling silver material covering it. Merely touching it gives me a sense of nostalgia, an antiqueness that tears at my insides until I feel the tears building in my eyes. I let them fall because no one is around me.

“Mom,” I whisper, the words unknown on my tongue, as if I don’t have the right to utter that one syllable.

It was hers, gifted to her by my dad before I was born. As a child, when she was normal, I used to adore it, always wanting to borrow it from her. I remember that it made me feel like a true princess, and my dad told me I was. Now it feels so stupid.

My sorrow is a silent symphony playing inside my head, causing my heart to ache in ways I did not intend, creating vivid images in my head. The bracelet tugs at me, and though I do not deserve to have it, I stuff it inside my bralette to keep. I killed her, yet now I have a piece of her.

A feeling of emptiness washes over me, and I have to suck in a harsh breath to remain calm, to not let myself spiral into the despair my mind so desperately wants to get lost inside.

Taking the box with trembling hands, I begin to descend the long stairs leading to the horror room below. Every step feels like it takes me closer to my impending doom, pain coating me from the inside out as the wound glides against the fabric of my clothes.

I arrive at the room below, where Arthur greets me with an amused smile. It’s as if he knew what I would discover inside the jewelry box—a piece of my mother given to them when she sold my soul to the devils.

Then, the sight before me has me dropping the now empty box on the ground. Among the chairs, the only woman left seated is the blonde one who had been sitting opposite me, her cheeks stained with tears.

Arthur’s lips curl into a twisted smile, showing the evil residing within him as he observes my reaction.

Three more women lay slumped against the floor, crimson liquid splatters marring their once colorful skin and covering the walls. Suddenly, I can smell the sour, physical odor of my dad’s brutal murder in our living room, and my breathing increases.

Do not show any weakness.

And yet I do, because a gasp escapes me as I watch the lifeless body of Jaqueline lying in a puddle of blood, all life drained from her.

Chapter 6

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