Chapter Nineteen
The present
Doll
The small frame torments me as I keep staring at it. The insect’s wings were clipped and goosebumps erupted on my skin as I focused on the details of its body.
I never asked Clayton to ever get me something like that or even mention my interest in insects. His disappointment made me feel guilty but he always wanted me to tell him the truth no matter what. The clock ticks, indicating the arrival of midnight. Clayton never mentioned that I have a birthday, the concept is confusing to me. He said I have no family, he’s the only one I have.
How do I have a birthday then?
My questions drown me further everyday in a sea of doubt. I have always trusted Clayton and want to stay with him forever. But, I can’t help the feeling that something isn’t right with how he makes me feel, how he acts, how he deflects my questions when they get too deep. The world outside doesn’t seem that horrible as he paints it to be, there is beauty even in the sad dark weather. The scent of rain is refreshing and the sound of thunder brings a chill in my bones that remind me of my body.
I would do anything just to run bare feet outside and spin in the rain again.
Thomas didn’t leave and I’m sure Clayton has done something to him.
Something bad.
I feel selfish and ungrateful to think of Clayton as the bad guy when all he ever did to me was provide all the care he could and patiently taught me how to live.
His dark green irises were the ones I always searched for safety. When his lips curl up slightly in pride when I finally do something right always fills me with peace.
I turn my head towards him as he lays on a couch, asleep as his glasses are crooked to the side and a strand of his brown hair shields his eye from the candle light.
My eyes soften as I take in his peaceful slumber, his eyebrows are scrunched a bit as he fights his own demons even in his rest.
“Please, make them go away, I’m tired.”
The memory of his broken voice as I woke up one night to his screaming and sitting in a corner with his knees hugged to his chest and tears running down his eyes as he looked around frantically, his eyes were hooded in another life. When he noticed me, he crawled onto the floor and hugged me tightly, begging me to make the voices stop.
Those moments remind me of how vulnerable he is with me and how much he trusts me.
And I’m about to break this trust.
I slowly walk towards him as I run my hands through his hair gently. He sighs in his sleep as his eyebrows soften in comfort, seeking my touch. I lean down and press a soft kiss against his forehead.
I step back away from him towards the staircase as I turn around and start to descend slowly. My steps falter for a second and I look back over him. Doubt fills me but an instinct inside me pushes me forward.
I take the steps one at a time slowly to bid myself as much time as possible to rethink my choices.
You need to know, Doll.
The voice inside me echoes in my mind as I take a deep breath and walk downstairs until I stand before a set of stairs going downwards. No light is here, as I grab a candle holder and rest my hand on the wall as I descend. With every step my heart beats rapidly in my ears.
The walls close in the further I go into the darkness until I'm met face to face with a tall iron door. I grab the keys I hid in my underwear that I stole from one of his drawers.
The keys cling together as I hold them firmly in my grip and look back quickly, making sure he hasn't woken up yet.
I press the keys into the lock, the first one doesn’t work as I try another. Feeling frustrated as I keep fumbling the keys, my hands shake uncontrollably, almost missing the lock every time I attempt to open it.
A sound of a click fills the dark staircase as I grin in triumph. I press onto the door handle carefullyand the door creaks open slowly.
“Alright, I have nothing to lose.” My tone hushed as I stepped inside.
The candlelight dims the basement, dark thick walls and dark wooden floor as I walk further it. On the right adjacent to the wall is a large desk with scattered papers and sketches. Some of them are already turning pale yellow with age.
I stand before the desk as I move the papers aside. Drawings of human anatomy and equations I can’t read are scribbled roughly.
