Song of the Chapter: Dollhouse by: Melanie Martinez
Birthday of a Girl in a Dollhouse
Slamming the door behind me, I sprawl my hands across the pink splintered wood, my back against it, as the handle shoves its way into my spine. Digging into the multiples cuts and bruises that are placed there intentionally. I don't grimace anymore; I'm not sure if it's because I'm used to the pain, or if it's because I enjoy it. I assume the latter. My eyes wander the room frantically, anticipation bubbling inside of me. Eventually, they land on the small dollhouse in the corner of the room. Three dolls, covered in purple, blue, and pink dresses, sit on the edge of the second floor of the wooden house. The one in the middle, the blue; its head turns, slowly, and crookedly, but it faces me either way. "Hey girl, play with your dolls," the thing chuckles, and I cringe at the sound of it. So manipulating. I ignore their voices, their chattering, and instead I walk into my closet. I pull out a small black dress, with a sweetheart neckline, a wide belt that squeezes my torso, and ruffles at the bottom. I don't do much with hair, or makeup, and instead I slip on black four inch pumps.
I take a look at myself in the mirror, only for a second, before turning away and walking back into my bedroom. The girls still chattering until they realize that I'm making my way to the bedroom door; it's then that they become silent. Something between a growl and a laugh come's from one of their throats. And I smile at how angry that I make them. "You'll regret it, girl," the one tells me, the one that seems to be their leader. I ignore her threats, and place my hand on the smooth metal, cold beneath my fingertips. I take one glance behind my shoulder before leaving. I quickly slip around the corners of the dark house silently, as my back aches from the earlier beating. He probably went to get drunk, as he normally does after he beats me. My fingers quiver, and my legs shake beneath me with anxiety, but I only shake out my limbs, and slip out the front door of the house.
The breezy August air of California causes me to subconsciously wrap my arms around myself, as I suddenly regret wearing a strapless. The skin covering my arms and shoulders and chest prickles with goose flesh as the wind rushes against it. But I continue walking despite this.
It's maybe five minutes into my walk, though it'll only be another five minute walk to Christina's. The thunder of a car motor pulls up beside me, and the door swings open. "What do you want, Caleb?" I groan, as he sits there, grinning at me widely. His eyes dilated, and a pitch black. "You're high," I point out, though it's mostly to myself, even though I know that he heard me. He grins wider, and I know that there's no other way for this to be possibly without the help with some… home grown medication. To not be specific. When his normal self is brooding, and angry, and silent. Never happy, but then again, I'm not either. I've almost taken him up on his offer to be happy a few times, but each time I think better of it. What good am I, if I'm sitting in my brother's car all day getting high?
"Come one, sis. Quit being such a bitch." I raise an eyebrow at him, and the smile quickly fades. Though I know he doesn't mean it, that doesn't mean that what he says still doesn't hurt. I get called plenty of names by our step father, I don't need them from him too. "Sorry…" He mutters, and I just smile at him, and he returns it. "At least let me drive you the rest of the way there. The girl of honor walking to her own party, unheard of." He says, and the grin has returned. I laugh a bit, and as I got respond, he talks again. "I insist." And I can't argue against this. The heels on my feet are already hurting my ankles, and I feel as if my body is going to freeze before I even get there. So I get into my brothers car, closing the door after me. I don't bother putting a seat belt on, as we're only a few minutes away. And it's a short, silent drive.
He pulls the car against the curb in front of Christina's extremely large house, where we're surrounded by another twenty cars. I subconsciously take note as Caleb gets out of the car, but instead of paying attention to him, I listen to the blaring music that I can hear from my spot in the car. Caleb's figure crosses my vision through the windshield, then my door on the passenger's side opens and I look at him there, smiling as he holds his hand out to me. I take it numbly, and place out foot after the other on the concrete of the road, getting out. My chest heaves with nervousness, and I'm not sure why. As we walk up the driveway, Caleb's arm wraps around my waist as an escort, and I place my hand over his. I feel his stare on me, so I look up to find him smiling at me, his face a foot above mine. "Relax Bea, you're beautiful." He says, his voice hushed, and my lips turn up into a toothless grin. The rest of the walk is silent, and when we make it to the door, I just walk in. I don't bother knocking, no one would be able to hear it anyway.
I take in the sight in front of me. Probably fifty people, all that I barely recognize from school, but I couldn't name them even if I cared enough to try. I have a small group of friends at school, Christina, Uriah, and Will. I don't bother getting to know anyone else, I don't want to have anyone's sympathy, which is what I'd get. Caleb and I now wander the house, hardly able to pry ourselves between the dancing bodies pressed together in the room.
Only a few minutes later, Christina comes running up to us. Her mid-thigh purple dress clings to her body tightly. "Tris!" She exclaims excitedly, and I can't help but laugh. And I feel Caleb's arm unravel itself from my waist, and he walks away. I can't say that I wasn't expecting it, because he's never been exactly fond of Christina.
"Hey Chris… What is all this? I don't even know these people…" I say, my voice lingering as my words trail off. My eyes wander the room.
"Come on Tris! Lighten up! We're just having some fun!" She says before giving me a friendly pat on the shoulder, of which I cringe to. Then she walks away. And I return to wandering the house, and I eventually make it into the kitchen. I take a water from one of the many metal buckets filled with ice and beer, and other alcohol. I don't mind. I push myself up to sit on the counter, and lean my head back against the cabinets. I sit there for awhile, just thinking even though my head pounds. I debate going home for a while, until a voice breaks me from my thoughts.
"You're the birthday girl, right?" Someone asks, a guy. I open my eyes to find Four. Normally I wouldn't know anyone, but it was impossible to go to our school, and not know him. The star first baseman of the baseball team, and school hottie heartthrob. You probably couldn't touch him with a ten foot pole, without getting sucked into his world, where practically every girl wished they were in. I don't. I realize that I haven't responded to his question, so I merely nod, twisting the cap off of my water bottle and sipping it. He eyes it questioningly. "Why aren't you out there dancing or something, all these people are here for you," he responds, taking a small step closer to me.
"I'm not much of a dancer," I joke, because he and I both know that's a lie. But we don't discuss our past with each other. He smiles, but the grin fades from my features. "I don't know any of these people, it just doesn't make sense," I say, seriously now, as my hand gestures to all of the bodies in living room of Christina's house. "They don't even know me."
He seems to ponder upon my last statement, as he takes another few steps closer to me, until built body rests against the countertop beside my bare dangling legs. "Well… I know you," he says, his voice only a whisper now, but I can hear him over the blaring music due to our close proximity.
"Do you?" I question suggestively. Though I don't want to be pulled into his world, it wouldn't hurt just to have fun for awhile. It is my birthday, after all. I wiggle my body closer to his, my leg now right beside his hand, as our flesh presses against each other. He stands in front of me, his body wedged between my legs, and his hands now rest on my thighs, just beneath the hem of my short dress. He mutters a barely audible 'mhm', before pressing his lips to mine. The kiss is steamy; it practically melts my insides, and makes me putty in his hands. I wrap my arms around his neck, because with me on the counter, I'm only a few inches shorter than him. His hands rest on the tops of my legs, caressing the skin there as he kisses me.
My hands entangle in his hair, and his tongue slides again mine as our lips move in sync. His hand now drop my bare waist tightly, as his hands had slid further up my dress, but I didn't mine. This is not my first kiss, of course, but it's my far the best. By far. The music goes silent, and I don't pay much attention to it until my name is called out in the silence. "Beatrice Prior," the voice booms, and my body goes stiff with fear. Four pulls his lips from mine, and watches me intently, worry in his eyes. So I tear mine away from his. He pulls his hands from beneath my dress, the touch of his fingertips pressed against my hips now gone. He tries to smooth my dress down some, as an attempt to hide what we just did on Christina's kitchen counter, though it doesn't work very well. "What the hell do you think your doing?!" Marcus yells at me, and my eyes widen. I'm not sure how he even knew I was here. I jump down from the counter, not daring to look my step father in the eyes, as I tear through the crowd surrounding me, and leaving the party.
I make it outside only a minute later, and I take my heels off as I make the fifteen minute walk home. I don't bother looking for Caleb, or Christina, or anyone for that matter, before I leave. But I know what's coming for me when I get home.
As I make it home, I thankfully find that the front door is unlocked, so I enter, slamming the door behind me before running up the stairs two at a time. I get to the top of the steps, I find my drunken mother pacing around the hall muttering something to herself. Her hair disarray, as her clothes are wrinkled. I roll my eyes at the sight of my once beautiful mother, then enter my room, where the dolls all stand, watching me. "We told you not to go, girl. We warned you. These are the consequences." One of the dolls say, though I can never keep track of who.
"What do you mean?!" I growl out, my voice low. "Just leave me alone!"
"Don't you see? We can't, Tris… We have to obey Marcus," another responds. The one that I've concluded is the nicest of the three. Just as the one finishes, I listen to the footsteps nearing my bedroom door.
"Go! Now!" I say, and the dolls scatter. Though I'm unsure if what they tell about Marcus' knowledge of the dolls is true, I know that my mother is clueless about them. Though she probably wouldn't remember, even if she did find them, I don't want to take the chance. I'm not sure why I protect them. Then my door slams open, and instead of my mother standing there, Marcus does, a leather belt in hand, as a sneer crosses his face.
I listen to the tiny evil chuckles from behind me, but I don't turn to them. I keep my eyes focused on the man in front of me. "She betrayed us Marcus, I think she needs a lesson," one of the dolls speaks, as the others laugh behind her, and a wired grin crosses the man's face.
Marcus takes a step closer to me, and I shrink beneath his stare. Then another, and another, until he's right in front of me. He stares at me, only for a second or two, before his left hand takes a fistful of my hair, yanking it, before pushing me down to the ground. I scramble to my feet, struggling to stand before he can hold me down, but I fail. And I'm pinned to the wooden floor beneath his shoe, pressing sharply into my lower back. "This is for your own good, Beatrice," he mutters, and the first snap crackles in my room, as the sound echo's against the walls. The pain is delayed, but when it arrives, it's searing, and I cringe, and scream out slightly. But another snap of the belt silences me, and I bite onto my forearm to keep myself quite.
It feels like days upon days later, and though I'm sure it was only a few minutes, I wish it were days, when the pain has subsided beneath new, fresh wounds. Blood drips from my back, and I can't move, paralyzed by the pain that I wish would just kill me. The red liquid also drips from my forearm, where I had bitten myself hard enough to drawl blood. But that's the least of my concerns. Marcus has finally left, but I don't even make an attempt to move from my spot on the floor. I shut my eyes, and let the darkness overcome me.
Eventually, I'm awoken, probably only minutes later. "Beatrice?" A voice asks. Caleb. He places a hand on my lower back, and I flinch. I watch as a tear falls from his cheek, and onto the floor, and I try to give him a weak smile.
"Bathroom," I mutter, and he nods silently. He seems to quickly contemplate how we could do this, in the most painless way possible. But I know that the question is inevitable. So instead of him carrying, I try to pull myself, and push across the floor, until I'm in the bathroom. Caleb follows quickly.
He takes a cloth, and begins to clean the wounds. The pain is blinding. My vision goes black at the edges, as fireflies seem to be floating around the room. But soon enough it's clean, and I'm now numb to everything around me, due to something that Caleb but on the cuts, or maybe a pill. I don't remember. He sits in front of me, and I slowly move to wrap my arms around his neck, his hands resting on either side of my stomach. It is then that I finally cry. Sob after sob wracks over my, as the tears fall on my brother's shoulder, staining his light blue t-shirt. "You-You can't let them find me!" I sob out, and Caleb looks at me questioningly, afraid.
"Let who find you Beatrice? Please. You have to talk to me," he pleads. And I ponder on whether to tell him or not. I have no choice anymore.
"The dolls, Caleb! The dolls! They know everything, they watch me! This is because of them!" I try to yell, I try to scream, in order to make him understand, but it only comes out as a harsh whisper, tears still streaming down my face in fear.
"This makes no sense," he says, pulling away to look at me, his eyes wide. "How could dolls, do this?! They're not even real!" He shouts at me, and I flinch unintentionally at hit tone.
I want to stand, and pace the room, and scream. All out of frustration. And I would, but I can't even move, much less stand. So I lie there, tears in my eyes, as my back burns painfully. "Marcus," I mutter almost silently, "Marcus… He gave them to me, it's his fault-" Before Caleb could respond, before I could even finish what I was saying, the bathroom door creaks open. I look toward the doorway.
One of the dolls chuckles as it stands there, watching me. "Hey girl," it sneers, but despite this, its voice is happy. "Come play with your dolls." She chuckles again, and my eyes wander to Caleb, who stares in horror. "We'll be a perfect family, girl." Then she chuckles again. No sooner that I release a nervous breath, that I hadn't realized that I was holding, the door to my bedroom slams open against the wall, and in walks Marcus. I feel the color drain from my face, as my body turns pale, and a sheen of cold sweat covers me.
"I warned you, Beatrice." Marcus says, as he takes a few more steps towards me. Before I realize what's happening, before I could even stop it, Marcus' fists collides with the temple of Caleb's skull, and my brother falls to the ground beside me, unconscious. His face is slack, with his lips parted slightly. My eyes widen at the sight of him. He looks dead, if I didn't know any better. Maybe he is.
As I drown in the sight of Caleb, my thoughts pulling me under, I'm yanked up my hair, which is now knotted. The pain in my back is searing, and it's all I have to not collapse to the floor. Marcus drags me out of the room, and I listen to the dolls giggling profusely behind us, in their dollhouse. When we're into the hallway, I'm shoved against the wall, my back pressing against the dull colored paint. I scream, or I start to, but Marcus' calloused hand comes in contact with my cheek, silencing me. I allow a single tear to slide down my cheek, as the pain envelops me. He pulls me by my hair again, this time pushing me towards the stairs. I look back to the spot where I stood, with my back against the wall. It glistens with blood.
Then he pushes me down the stairs. I grasp for anything, but I'm unable to get my fingers wrapped around it, and I'm not able to get my feet beneath me, so I fall. The back of my head collides with the metal hand rail of the spiraling stair case, and I feel the warmth of blood, as it drips down my neck, and down my back, to join the rest of the blood that pools from my wounds. I crumple to the floor at the bottom of the stairs in a piles of limbs, only to be yanked up again. Marcus sneers at me, his teeth show as some animalistic growl comes from deep in his throat, showing his hatred for me. He then brings his knee up to my stomach one, two, three… Countless times. Until I'm coughing blood.
I feel my eyes slightly flutter shut, as my head falls to the tile floor of the kitchen. Marcus' foot collides with all parts of my body, bruising me until my natural skin tone is unrecognizable. "Maybe you shouldn't have been such whore! Or a liar! Or possibly even smart! Maybe you wouldn't deserve this as much!" Marcus sneers at me, and I so bad want to say something, but I can only whimper in response. My throat burns, and I gasp for air, as every breath I cherish. They're few and far between.
Soon, the pain becomes invisible. Just a twinge of annoyance in the back of my mind, but I can easily tune it out. Marcus is still here standing in front of me, watching as the life slowly drains from my eyes. My eyes wander is abnormal figure, but instead look on his shoot. And brown leather, now stained with my blood. I wonder what he'll do with my body once I die. Will he dispose of it, pretend it was an accident? What about my mother, what will she do when she finds out that I'm dead? Or Caleb? Or Christina? Maybe even my recent connections with Four… I push the thoughts from my mind effortlessly. I cough again, and blood now covers the white tile floor surrounding me, some with only specks, and others with pools of the red liquid. I instead think about something good. Maybe when my father was alive. And before my mother turned into a drunk. And before my brother was some drug addict. And when I was happy.
That was a long, long time ago. Before I lived in the dollhouse. Before I saw all of the things, that no one else has seen. No one will ever see them.
A/n- Hm… Okay, so I know this is pretty late. I meant to post it on my birthday, on Sunday. I just ran out of time, then forgot about it. But better late than never, right? SO, yeah, please let me know what you think of this small one-shot. I guess it's pretty dark, but if any of you have read any of my other stories, you know that they're dark. But anyway, please comment, review, PM, or whatever else you'd like to do. But thank you for reading, and be sure to read 'Contingent' and 'Carry You Home', and my now completed story 'Last of Us'. Thanks for reading guys! Bye!
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