On the attic, an enchanted dollhouse stands. A forgotten and discarded magic project, nobody brings joy or freedom to the flawed dolls. They perish in their own insanity, magnified by the futureless loop of days, weeks, and years.
Matt woke up for another day. His eyes stared at the ceiling, but his mind was not yet present. He heard knives being sharpened in the kitchen, a faint smell of cannabis lingered in his room. His muscles were stiff, and he stretched them before he sat up. He didn't want to get up, but he knew what the consequences would be if he misbehaved. And he felt the pressure to be the one guiding his family. He looked at the window, closed by semi-transparent curtains. The light shone on his yellow walls. He disliked the colour, but Oliver thought it would help his mood. As if the 'colour of the sun' had anything to do with actual time outside. He groaned softly and turned, placing his feet on the cold floor, and headed out of bed.
As he headed downstairs he heard moans of a woman from his parent's bedroom. He sighed as he made his way to the living room. He avoided the kitchen. He knew that for breakfast there was a time and a place, the latter not being the kitchen. Oliver's knives were still being sharpened. The moans continued from the room above. Matt sat down on the couch and took the bag of crisps that was left over from the previous evening, and ate it as breakfast. His eyes automatically wandered to the window. He wanted to escape, but knew it wasn't possible.
"Matt, dear." Oliver entered the room. "My sweet boy, I made breakfast. Some nice muffins! Can you get your brother?" Oliver's smile was treacherous. Over his eyes, fake kindness, like a thin shield of ice, capturing the burning rage and anger.
"Yes, dad." Matt got up. Oliver smiled, and looked how he left the room.
The moans on the hallway has made space for a quiet. Matt knocked on Allen's door, and entered the room. The smell of weed had penetrated the furniture of the room, including the bed on which his brother slept, half naked, the sheets covering half of his body.
"Wake up." Matt kicked the leg of the bed. No effect on Allen. He sighed, already frustrated. He filled a glass in the bathroom, and dipped his fingers in when he got back to Allen's room. He splat the water from his fingers on the neck and face of his brother, who woke up with an elongated moan of displeasure.
"Why are you like this!?" He exclaimed once he opened his eyes.
"Dad made breakfast. You shouldn't let him wait."
Allen covered his head with the pillow. "I do what I fucking want, leave me alone!"
"Where is your brother?" Oliver had a voice that Matt reminded of the times he got punishment from when he had been away in nature for too long. It reminded of the times he had stood there, waiting with his arms in his side, a worried look that seemed to be a cover for the disappointment. But his arms were full of muffins, vegan, Matt assumed, and his face suggested love instead of something negative. Matt looked down. "He's awake. He wanted to sleep more. I tried."
He heard Oliver sigh and he was excused.
Allen fought with Oliver. Oliver fought with Louis. The noises of upstairs sounded far away when he closed his eyes and thought of the woods. Making camps with fallen logs, building campfires to keep himself warm in the night. Things he fantasized and dreamed of when his family fell apart once again. He slouched on the couch, as he tried his best to ignore the mess.
The fight upstairs ended and Oliver came down the stairs crying, retreating to the kitchen. Matt retreated to his room after stealing a couple of muffins for his lunch. He remained on his bed daydreaming. He felt captured in this room, in this house. He could barely breath. If he only had a place to go. He felt like he was cursed in an endless loop.
Dinner was served. He sat down with his family. His father was usually absent, but now he too sat with them. His long hair was messy, bags under his eyes matched those of Matt. He reeked of alcohol. Allen smelled of weed, and Oliver… He didn't want to know. Self-conscious he wondered what he smelt like, but knew that nobody would care too much about it.
"I hope you all enjoy dinner together." Oliver's eyes glinstered. "I hope you all, enjoy, dinner, together." His smile broadened for a moment. Matt looked at his plate and started eating.
The dinner went well. No fights today. Matt really wanted to stab Allen with his fork in the eye, but didn't let the anger get to him. He didn't want to deal with Oliver afterwards. Oliver and Louis stayed in the kitchen after they finished eating. Allen joined Matt in the living room.
"Wanna smoke one with me?"
"Not really."
"You know this situation is hopeless. Why not indulge in something that makes your thoughts leave you, you know?" Allen leaned against the wall. "The worst thing that can happen is that you die of something. Not a curse."
Matt sighed. "I don't want to get an addiction like you all have."
"So you wanna have a perfect family or something?" Allen yawned. "Boring."
Matt turned on the television. He had his suspicions on what would go down in the kitchen between his dads, and didn't want to think too much about it. "No. That's Oliver."
"What do you want then? Oh wait. I don't really care." Allen smirked.
"Go get high or something." Matt headed to the window, and peeked through the curtain. He assumed his brother left and sighed. A perfect family? It was too late for that. He could only wish to break free one day.
The evening he spend in his bed ignoring the sounds of Oliver and Louis, the smell of cannabis slowly penetrating his room, and the fact that tomorrow would be another day, another copy of another day, all over again. He closed his eyes to dream of a day he would be free.