“Violet,” I repeat. “Violet, Violet, Violet…”
The name melts until it has less meaning, and I’m smaller. Smaller than a person. Smaller than a chair. Smaller than an empty bird’s cage. Even a doll gets a name, but I’m not sure if holding onto my name is good for me anymore. My future is in Dr. Ambrose’s hands.
The poison pills are still out there though.
“Your name has no value here,” Dr. Ambrose says, breaking into my thoughts.
I flinch, careful not to hit my head on the cage bars. Why didn’t I hear him approach? Where is my head?
The words scratch my throat: “How long have you been standing there?”
“Even when you can’t see me, I’m always here with you in spirit, sweet one. I’ll never let you out of my sight again. You know that.”
My skin pebbles, a chill whipping across my body even as a smoldering fire blazes inside of me. It’s a promise. My mother died. My foster parents abandoned me. My ex dumped me. Benji let me return here knowing I may die.
But Dr. Ambrose is still here.
And I’ll get him one day, I think. The poison pills are with my clothes somewhere, and if I can’t use those, then I’ll find another way to end this. I won’t give him everything. I still have myself.
The thoughts of justice are different now though, like a cloud dispersing into thin air.
“Violet,” I whisper, but it’s all wrong.
Dr. Ambrose’s upper lip curls, his bulbous nose pointed down at me.
“We need to give you a new name. A permanent one. Then again, this won’t be a proper name with capital letters; you’re just a thing, and things don’t deserve real nicknames. This is more of a title, isn’t it? An informal one, at that.” He circles the cage and taps his chin. “Shall we call you ‘slut’?”
My breath hitches. I actually like when he calls me that.
Dr. Ambrose wrinkles his nose. “You are quite the greedy cock slut, but it doesn’t quite fit.” He cracks his neck. “What about ‘sweet one’?”
I need that hint of praise. “Yes. I like that one.”
He chuckles. “I’m afraid it won’t do, then. If you like your new title, then you won’t fully transform into your truest self. In fact, it shouldn’t be about you or what you want at all. There is no agency in you anymore.” He licks his lips. “What about ‘my disgusting little freak’?”
I wait for the rage to take over every muscle in my body; nothing happens. I can’t summon the anger to fight back.
But somehow, I manage to bare my teeth.
“Not that one.” I shake my head, but my voice grows softer: “Please, Daddy.”
“Ah! Delightful!” He laughs, the sound cutting deep into my chest. “You are henceforth no longer known as Violet Ward, but as my disgusting little freak.”
My eyes sting, but the tears don’t come. Protesting is no use. Dr. Ambrose controls everything in my life; why wouldn’t he take away my name too?
There’s something about being called his freak that means something to me. It means I have a home. A place I belong. Forever.
I can’t accept it though, right? I can’t give up my name too.
Can I?
“Violet, Violet, Violet,” I repeat quietly.
“No. Not Violet. Repeat your new title back to me,” he says in a calming voice meant to coax me into a dreamless sleep. “Just like you were doing before I walked in. Instead of your birth name, repeat your true title: freak, freak, freak.”
I scrunch my eyelids together as hard as I can. I’m still here. I’m still present inside of my body. I can do what he wants and remember who I really am.
“Say it, now.” He hovers over me. “Be a good girl and say your real title for me.”
