Page 38 of Pretty Stolen Dolls

My fingers slide along the cool glass of the fish tank in the middle of the room. It’s clear it’s put there to make a statement, but all it tells me about this woman is she’s lonely,like me.Only, I don’t need to surround myself with pets that will die and be replaced to know this.

Out here in this big, bad world, I’m all alone.

She allows me to wander about her space and doesn’t push me to sit or talk, so I take my time and eventually lower myself onto the seat opposite.

“How are you?” she asks.

What a simple, yet loaded question.How am I?

I’m scared. I’m angry. I’m lost.

“I’m missing a piece of me,” I answer truthfully before flicking my gaze up to gauge her response.

Was she expecting such honesty? Would she see through the dress and hair to the broken doll beneath?

“Tell me about that. What are you missing?” She swirls her pen over the pad, but I can’t see what it is she’s writing. Her nose scrunches slightly and it makes me think she perceives more than I want her to.

She doesn’t keep her eyes downcast and somehow manages to hold eye contact with me the entire time despite her subtle note taking.

“When I was a little girl,” I say absently, my eyes drifting to the fish tank where a blue fish chases a yellow one, “my sister was fascinated with my hair. She used to braid plaits in either side and I used to let her. It helped to prevent tangles.” I smile fondly, reminiscing in the memory.

“Tell me more about your sister, were you close?” The woman’s interest is piqued and she leans slightly forward, as if she doesn’t want to miss a single detail.

Her image flashes in my mind and I hold it there, terrified one day the memory of her face will fade and evade me forever. So perfect. Dark hair. Sparkling hazel eyes. Pretty.

Pretty little doll.

“Closer than anything,” I whisper. My arms curl around my stomach. “Do you have some water?”

She points to a see-through jug holding water and what looks like sliced cucumber floating on top. “Help yourself.”

I pour the water and a slice plops into the cup, causing some to jump out and wet the table.

“Sorry,” I mutter, attempting to wipe it up with my hand. I don’t belong in a stupid apartment that has fish as a feature drinking fancy water.

“It’s fine, leave it.” Leaning forward, she pats my hand and I jolt back into my seat. Her eyes widen and she holds up a hand in surrender. “I’m so sorry, you don’t like to be touched?”

I do like to be touched…just not by strangers.

IT’S BEEN THREE DAYSsince Bo left me and he’s been ignoring my texts checking in on him, so that means I’ve been flying solo. It’s hard to believe, but a sense of relief has settled over me. The fact that I am relieved that my boyfriend isn’t curled up against me says a lot about my fucked up head.And our fucked up relationship.

Being alone without Bo’s watchful eye has enabled me to go through the old case files. To pace around the living room when my anxiety wouldn’t allow me to sleep.

I was free to think about Macy.

I may have peace where my home life is concerned, but I’ve been obsessing in a whole new fashion. I’ve been glued to my laptop searching. Always searching.

With my feet propped up on the coffee table, I scroll through yet another local doll making supply store. Benny was always so particular about the eyelashes and hair he purchased for the dolls. I learned this from when I ruined one of them and he bellowed, pacing my cell the next day, talking about how hard it would be to get the correct color to repair the patches I’d made.

Pretty hair for my pretty dolls.

Believe it or not, there are entire websites dedicated to doll hair alone. I’ve spent the better part of two days searching for ones within the vicinity of where they found me.

Earlier, while in the shower, I wondered about Benny. Would he truly leave his house and come for me? The thought of my sister all alone is too much to bear. I spent a good hour crying in the shower.

A sudden rap on my door jerks me to attention. I look down at my camisole and tiny shorts—not necessarily door answering material.

Maybe it’s Bo.

---