Dale's Doll

Dale's Doll - Part Five

I know someone is talking to me, only their words are coming out sounding so distant and so distorted. Staring at their moving lips, I'm trying so hard to take in all that is being spoken from that mouth—from all that is being so disturbingly said. "We're all just trying to get our heads around it. We are just so shocked and saddened to find out that she's gone." Leah gravely stares at me, before needing to emotionally look down at the floor.

"I just can't believe this has happened to her." Quietly comes my reply, sounding stunned and at a complete loss for comforting words to offer.

"I know, it's just so unbelievably sad." Leah sniffs back all of her emotions, trying to professionally hold herself together because she knows she has a nursery full of lively young children, who are all innocently unaware and playfully oblivious to the tragic loss of her colleague and her longtime friend.

Offering a weak and sadly given smile, I decide it's time for me to go. Trying to get Delilah's attention, who is happily already playing with the wooden kitchen and wanting Dale to take a sip of the imaginary drink that she's only just made, I lovingly wave across to her. "Bye Delilah, I'll see you later...have fun, darling!"

Waving back at me, my little girl gives me the most sweetest of high-cheeked grins. "Bye mummy!" She calls out, before giggling at Dale while she's wiping the plastic chin of her doll using the sleeve from her pink crocheted cardigan.

With heavy feet, I turn to leave. "I'll see you later." I gloomily say, suddenly feeling unsure of whether or not I should actually leave Delilah this morning. All the staff are wearing such forced smiles, trying their very best to just keep doing their jobs, all the while so deeply upset about the death of Debbie—their friend and their manager.

She was fondly all of that to them, but to me, she was selfishly also the one who was going to help me to wean Delilah away from Dale. Now, I just feel kind of lost, sad and so directionless.

As I give one last lingering glimpse to my very happy young daughter, I know that she's going to be completely unaffected by the untimely death of Debbie today...so I turn and finally do leave.

All the way to my car, seeds of anxiety begin to take firm root within me. As I turn on the ignition, I feel like ice is now flowing through my veins. Debbie's death is troubling me, so deeply troubling me. I know that accidents happen every single day, but I have this frightening sense that this was no accident at all.

Debbie slipping in the shower and hitting her head so hard on the taps that she instantly dies, just seems so unreal to me.

Unreal and unnerving.

This deeply embedded feeling that this is much more than just a freak and horrible accident, just doesn't want to leave me. The very same can be said for this headache that I have as well. As I am driving along, it feels like my forehead is being excruciatingly squeezed tight. Grimacing at the pain, I focus hard on the road ahead. I focus on safely getting myself to work, where I can take something for this horrific pain.

Everything is just going wrong.

My marriage.

Motherhood.

Work.

Debbie's death.

My headaches.

None of it is a coincidence.

They are all an occurrence.

An occurrence since that ugly doll came into our lives.

There is something really wrong with it.

It might sound far-fetched and it might sound completely and utterly irrational, but my gut is telling me what it knows—that hideous doll is cursed.

"Jesus!" The pain in my temples, causes me to now loudly cry out. My face is contorting with the blinding agony. It feels just like skewers are being very slowly pushed and turned right into the centre of my head. Pressing down on the brakes, I know I need to pull over, because the piercing pain is now making it unsafe for me to drive. Knowing what I have to do, I indicate left, wanting to hurriedly just get to the side of the road, but just as I am, the agony intensifies.

It's now excruciating.

I can no longer see.

I'm screaming loudly in distress.

Loudly traumatised by the tormenting discomfort.

I become absolutely immobilised by my own membrane misery....until I literally cannot take it anymore.