Page 20 of The Doll Factory
You have a daughter.
I can’t bring myself to say her name or I won’t focus enough to make it out of the door.Despite the pressure building in my chest, one wanting a sob to escape, I keep my gaze on the red glowing exit sign down the long hall.My way to freedom and the life I once had.
It’s so hard to remember what that was like.Why is it so difficult?Like I’ve been reborn, I burst out into the dark night with a silent cry of triumph.Visions, memories, images flood my mind of who I once was.
A mother.A wife.Afighter.
I was stolen.
It comes rushing back to me as I gain distance down the seeping alleyway that smells of rotted food and piss.
Taken from my home, my place of comfort.Why, though?What was happening?
Some of the facts are still too disjointed to place together.
Air flows through my chest like I recall how to breathe like a normal person again.It’s strange and makes my head fuzzy.Every cool seep in through my nose chills my skin, but heats it again as I exhale.
Do I have to remember how tobreathenow?
The street is busy with cars rushing by in a hurry to their lives.Horns blare as the rain softly falls onto me in my lace dress, which almost melts off my body.I have no idea where to go.People blaze past me, shoving me out of the way, and I almost tip over, my body still unfamiliar to me.
“Help!”I yell into the void.“Help!”
I’m surrounded, but no one stops.It’s like I don’t exist.
A taxi sprays me as it hurries by and I step into the street with an arm raised and a quick glance over my shoulder.Fortunately, one pulls over quickly and I jump in the back seat.
“Where to?”The bearded man asks.
“To…” Where do I live?Where do I need to go?The police?My house?
Like just asking made the answer appear.I rattle off my street address from a deep memory.The sense that I could be safe and saved is too scary of a concept.Better to know what a danger I’m still in.Until Tim’s arms are wrapped around me and the doors to our house are locked, I won’t be able to settle.
Tears fall down my cheeks as we approach our beautiful house.The yellow light from the dining room chandelier casts long shadows over the clean cut lawn.Tim’s white Escalade glows from the garage carriage lights as if it had a recent wax.Neatly trimmed rose bushes decorate the front door.I’m not sure why I expected everything to be in shambles without me here, but it’s not.
“Twenty-nine,” the driver says and my breath catches.
Money… “Wait right here.I-I have it inside.”
Velvet from the delicate dress gets caught on the seat as I lunge from the cab and hurry toward my haven.Not slowing, I grip the knob on the front door and turn, but it doesn’t budge.Locked.With a raised fist, I pound on the door and cry for my family.“Tim!Tim!It’s me!”
Heavy footsteps approach the other side with a heavy sigh and low question.Murmurs of voices hold a hurried conversation.Shuffles in the distance answer the indiscernible words.Then, silence.
“Tim!It’s your wife!”
My husband throws the door open with a furrowed dark brow, his thin eyes growing wide as his jaw drops.“Lily?Is-is thatyou?What are you doing here?”
Without an ounce of hesitation, I catapult myself into his arms and one of his hands hovers on the small of my back.
The taxi driver beeps his horn and Tim glances at him.
“Oh.He needs money, Tim,” I tell him and he nods, then skirts past me to give the man his fee.
While I hasten inside, tiny muscles relax with every inhale of the familiar and soothing scent.Everything is just as I remember.Except clean, like perhaps my mother has been here helping Tim.Maybe he hired a housekeeper.
Tim closes the front door and locks it, the sound of the deadbolt such a welcomed relief.I slump to the ground.Sobs wrack my chest, but I huff out, “Where is she?”
He stares at me like I’m a wounded animal and isn’t sure if I’ll bite.“Who?”
