Short Stories

My Little Doll

She calls me her little doll; she plays with me, she brushes my hair and she dresses me. I do not resist because I am weak to her domain. I am her constant companion through thick and thin. She classes me as her favourite toy because I have done nothing to upset her. She never releases me when she gets her hands on me, a cloud of warmth and security showering above us. However, she has me locked me away from the world. She does this for good reason as she saved me from an eternity of deal was and loneliness, where I was no longer cared for, abandoned without reason I the deathening cold. My previous owner had abused me greatly so suddenly, forcing me to lose all emotion that once existed within my porcelain body. Upon those days, many passed my figure, all judging me, classing me as useless filth that should be thrown away I tithe depths of hell. She discovered me on Winter's first snowfall. A lady of high ranking and pride, but what she did was outwith her role. She approached me without fear or disgust, a lady radiant in beauty. She knelt down to my level, cupping my face in her smooth, black leather gloves. She did not speak, but merely studied me, staring deep into my lifeless eyes, occasionally stroking my raven hair. Her pink lips parted to speak. "Why would anyone abandon something as beautiful as you?" She removed her own coat and wrapped it around me, a for of protection but also her leash for me. She did not speak as she led me to her own quarters where she cared for me and took me in as her own. It has been a year since. During the day, I sit in her room, waiting for her to return at night where she would take me into her arms and confess her soul. All I can do is listen as I become her support beam. She tells me that she keeps me locked away because she doesn't want the world to judge her actions as she says a lady like her should not play with dolls. She dresses me in clothing, that is only fit for her eyes, made of the finest silk and lace, mainly coloured a luscious red to symbolise her love for roses. She often uses roses to decorate my hair, red and black being her constant colour theme, to make me even more beautiful. My raven hair, tightly attached to my head, is filled with knots, tears and glue. On nights where she has not been in the best of moods. She pulls out my hair with great force, abuses me with her bare fists and throws me around the room, the wall achieving a greater damage to my delicate body. Her actions similar to my previous master, however she is different, her body contains a heart. Afterwards, she apologises, cries over me while she tends to the wounds she created, her tears staining my body, soaking my hair. I do not speak as I have no voice. I do not react because I have no emotion. The reason for her calling me her little doll. Even though she has a violent side that causes the cracks within me to grow. I remain forever loyal to her, I admit that I love her but I am not sure if she understands this emotion, I am not only one who has been broken. Her actions lead me to believe that she loves me, but I was incorrect, guided by false hope. Our last night together caused a turn, for the worst, in our relationship. She arrived late, eyes enraged with anger, cheeks stained with tears as she began to violently attack me, adding more bruises to my fragile body. She was blaming me for her shrivelled life, how she has been disgraced by the world because she is different. What she did next haunts me most. In her hand was a small knife, silver and sharp bladed. In one swift movement, she brought my raven locks together and sliced off most of the length. I watched each strand float to the floor in the way a feather would detach itself from a bird. She sliced my arms also, countless cuts appearing on my pale skin, my insides violently pouring out through all of the tears in my body. She dropped the knife dramatically at my feet, staring intensely at my now horrible body. Her hand moved to my neck, gripping it tightly, using all of her strength to throw me me violently, forcing my body to collide against the wall. She approached me, prepared to throw again before I cried out. "No!" I had a voice and I used it. I had emotion and I sobbed greatly. The crack within me had snapped. Her face held shock, her trembling body backing away slowly, acting as if I was the criminal. I had hurt her. "So unfortunate." I hear her say. She proceeds to grab my arm, my blood staining her pale skin as she drags me out of her room and into the darkness of the outside world. She throws me to the ground, fresh snow cushioning my fall. I watch her kneel and grip my chin. "I love you my little doll," she whispers, before bringing my battered body into a sympathetic embrace. I begin to lift my hands, now that I am in control, stiffly bringing them to her head, touching her broken body for a final time. At my touch, instantly she pushes me away in disgust and stands, towering above me. Her dark aura striking fear. "But I can't have broken toys," she says assume closes the barrier between us, leaving me to freeze in the snow. My blood staining the white surface boldly and proudly. The frozen ground acted as my bed as my eyes shut one last time, allowing me to succumb to the eternal slumber as I whispered into the lonely darkness, "Even though I am your toy, I will always love you, my Rose."