Dolls

dove

Chapter 40: Coria

I cannot sleep. My mind refuses to shut off, to quit for just a few hours of sleep. It is swirling all seconds it operates, my thoughts straying. I keep lying to myself, saying the reason is because Luther gets to go home in four days, but I know it is the leather- wrapped book sitting heavily in the drawer. It has taken up all of my mind, unforgivingly.

I wasted my time. It is useless, just as I predicted. I understand why no one in our country reads that shit. Why would they? It is ridiculous. Filled with false promises of eternal life and no suffering when that is all that I have been given. It is filled with even stranger stories, ones that make no sense.

One verse in particular parades through my mind at all times. "God created mankind in his image... male and female he created them."

And the other one. "God then built the rib that he had taken from the man into a woman... bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh..."

Equal. Made equal. Born to be equal.

But something has to be wrong about that verse.

The sun is halfway over the horizon when I abandon any attempt at sleep and sit up, stretching. I choke back a yawn and use the restroom, splashing some water on my face to wake up. I brush my hair before stepping out of the bathroom again.

There is a knock on the door, soft yet firm. I yawn before going over to it, unlocking the latch and then swinging it open. I'm glad I took the time to put on a robe, otherwise I would be much more embarrassed.

Cecil's eyes take a moment to run over the skin that shows, down my chest and the long v-shape that cuts down, but ends before it can show too much cleavage or something more. I want to squirm under his eyes, the memory of his hand still burning in my mind. He stares at my chest for longer than comfortable, then moves up to my neck, then up to my lips. When he realizes I am waiting for him to speak, he clears his throat and returns to professionalism.

"Your husband would like you to come as soon as possible. Can you be ready in fifteen minutes?" He asks.

"Yes. Did he say anything about our daughter?" I ask in return. He shakes his head.

"No, ma'am."

"Alright. Thank you." I close the door and genuinely shiver as I walk away, going over to the dresser to get dressed. I shimmy into the dress and pull the strings taught, imitating the corset that I do not have on for today. Today, my dress is white and made of dotted tulle and lace, roses embroidered on the neckline, a strip on the sleeve, and around the waist. A few of the roses glide through the skirt of the dress, and I grab blush-colored heels to match. Once I have all my bearings in place, I turn.

I check myself out in the bathroom and when I like what I see, I put on makeup and then style my hair. Once I am finished, I go over to Sybella's room to say both hello and goodbye.

Unfortunately, she is not awake. Jenna is drinking coffee and I tell her the same thing I told her the last few days. She nods solemnly. I go over and kiss my daughter on the forehead and brush the hair from her face. She does not stir, chest still rising up and down in even, peaceful breaths. I smile, but it is sad. I step away and leave.

My heart sinks, like it has for a few days now, when I see the press waiting outside for me. They have been growing the past few days, an invasion of privacy at every turn. I hate it.

When we arrive at the hospital, it is the same thing. I do not pose like they want me to, nor do I pay any attention to them, but I do not shy away. They can take pictures. Camera lens are like eyes and all know I am used to those.