The Doll Garden

Four

There were only so many times in my life where I felt like I wanted to die. Depression hit me a shit ton at the beginning of my first year of high school, and I'd swore I would end it all right where I stood, then and there.

I admit I couldn't recall what stopped those urges. Nonetheless, it was a reminder that I couldn't die without learning the truth; no matter how much I'd thought I'd wanted to die and how much I'd told myself I'd do it.

"Sorry!" Andy clenched onto the steering wheel, and shouted, just as he drove over a bump in the road that caused us to raise from our seats.

Manuel's head flung back. He seethed and gritted his teeth. I winced and removed the seatbelt choking me away from my neck. Mirabelle sent us a sheepish look in the mirror, mouthing another sorry after Andy. I rolled my eyes and waved her off to signify it was okay.

"Ow, that hurt like a bitch," I muttered, fixing myself in the seat. When I'd found a comfortable position again, I chewed on the skin peeling off the inside of my lips and dazed off.

I could remember. I could remember.

If I tried hard enough, I could remember everything I'd ever forgotten. I closed my eyes and put my brain to the test until my head felt like it was going to burst. I couldn't see a thing beyond the blank space in my mind that refused to give me any information. There was no use. My eyes were wide open again the second I saw black.

"Are all the staff back yet?" Andy voiced his thoughts.

The car began to drift along the curb in a slow motion. I pressed my forehead and palms against the window. We were driving up to the big black gate keeping our estate intact—from lingering reporters who'd still been trying to cut off a piece of the drama for themselves and such. There was no end to them.

This past week had been an exhausting, fluctuating mess of nerves. We'd been gone for exactly eight days. Our father had been taken into police custody on the same day the bodies were found. We hadn't seen much of him since. Whether he'd been avoiding us or the police were still dealing with him was another question we didn't have an answer to.

But one thing was for sure, we were allowed to come back home today, according to him.

"Seems like Aaron's here," Mirabelle said, lifting herself from her seat a bit.

Each of our eyes landed on Aaron's body coming into frame behind the gate. He was bouncing on his tiptoes to jog faster. The moment he reached the gate, he pulled both doors open; it was wide enough for Andy to drive us in, and he did.

"Longest damn week of my life," Manuel moaned whilst stepping out of the car.

"At least the hotel had good food or we all probably would have died," Mirabelle joined the conversation, slipping out the door from her side. "Eight days in a hotel room definitely wasn't as fun as child me imagined it would have been."

I followed everyone in suit, looking at the now empty estate, clear of any trace of the police that'd been scattered when we were here last. Except for the strips of caution tape that were littered along our pavement. Piles of it that had gotten caught under Andy's tires were now smooshed into the ground.

"I never thought I'd be so happy to see this place again..." I muttered to myself.

My car was still parked off to the side where I'd left it in safe condition. It was a miracle none of those cop cars scratched my baby up. I could hear Andy's car trunk popping open causing me to take a look. I assumed it was so that we could all retrieve our luggage. Andy was the first to grab his and Mirabelle's. Manuel managed to get a hold of his afterwards, then it was me.