Dolls

milk and honey

Chapter 46: Coria

Usually, you never sleep.

After seeing death like that, you are unable to sleep until you get help.

The first night, I never let go of Sybella. Luther did not object, tucked her into our bed, and we all fell asleep together, even if she was the only who did.

That continued for a lot longer than it should have.

After half a year, we finally began to ease her back into her own bed, and because she is a resilient child, she did so without much issue.

But even now, nearly two years later, Luther still clutches me tight, as if I will snap, and refuses to give me any room to breathe.

Usually, I would try to push away, but I do not mind. I need it to even think about sleeping.

No one talks about it. If a worker were to even dare to mention it, they would be fired. The press already talks about it enough.

But no one has forgotten.

Some were lucky enough to get help, including Josie and Hayes. Riley got a new job. Sybella was young enough, maybe she will not remember the way those around her screamed in horror. The way I clutched her tight for weeks on end, ignoring the first few times she asked about Jenna. Hopefully she will not remember any of it when she gets older.

I, most of all, have not forgotten. I do not believe I need to give an obituary for anyone to understand why I say that, to grasp how much I miss her.

"Mama?"

I turn at Sybella's voice, putting down the makeup brush. I force myself to smile, even though the first thing my eyes are drawn to is the ribs of her little purple corset poking out from her dress.

It is loose enough to not even be considered a corset. But I want to burn it.

"Hi, baby," I say. "How was your nap?"

She bounces towards me. I crouch down to her level as she smiles.

"Good," She says, but misses the "G" sound. Does not matter, I still understand.

I tuck some strands of hair behind her ear. "Good to hear."

"Can we go outside?" She asks. My smile disappears.

Going outside requires going past the kitchen. I barely go near it anymore.

"How about we go play in your room for a bit?" I suggest. She nods, but sadly. "I will be right in. Go get some toys out."

She dashes off once again. I clean up the counter and then shut off the lights as I leave, exiting our room. By the time I reach Sybella's room, she has a couple dolls out. I sit next to her on the floor, draping my dress over my legs.

She hands me a doll, one with red hair and almost snow white skin. I look at the other ones around the floor. All of them look like that. None are even a shade darker. None are my skin, and mine is still light.

I am forced to furrow my brow and move on.

Sybella has a creative mind. She babbles along to a storyline, ordering me around even though I cannot understand what she is saying. I have no idea where she gets it from. The way she play-acts like this is so creative, and maybe it is just her being a child, but I was never like this when I was younger.

The doll with red hair flies. The brunette doll has a horse made of ice. The auburn doll can talk to dogs and her sidekick is Thunder. The raven-haired doll is the auburn doll's guardian angel and is the spirit of Mama making sure no animal harms her. And the blonde doll is the sister Sybella wishes for, but does not have. She smiles sweetly, but looking at the doll that is supposed to be her sister makes my heart clench. She might have had one.