Blanche opened her eyes at the meant-to-be-gentle touch on her face. She didn't usually get much sleep in the garage—the fear of never being able to wake up was too grave. She was normally quite the light sleeper, too.
She stared up with startled fright at Danny's blissful smile. He was sitting far too close for comfort, but then again, he had probably never learned the meaning of personal space.
"Good morning!" Danny beamed as soon as he realized Blanche was awake.
Feebly Blanche mumbled an incomprehensible answer. Danny had both forgotten to feed her and give her water. Blanche's throat was dry and any sound she tried to emit came with an enormous effort.
Danny didn't seem to mind. He took Blanche roughly by the shoulders and pulled her weak body up to a sitting position. Blanche's right elbow struck her side painfully; the hand was still fastened to the bars of the headboard but had by now gone completely numb.
Moments passed without Blanche looking at the young man. These last few days he'd been completely indifferent to her. Blanche didn't know what to expect now. The last time he'd looked so enthusiastic Blanche had tried to escape and had gotten her punishment for it. Her neck didn't hurt quite the way it had at first, but Blanche was still rather anxious not to upset the man again.
Danny's fingers slid slowly through her dark and tousled hair, and Blanche had to concentrate on not turning her head away from him. She wasn't exactly keen on having him pull at her hair again. Blanche shuddered at the unwelcome touch when Danny's hand brushed against her neck and came to rest on her collarbone.
With helpless tears in her eyes, Blanche thought of how different she had felt at Danny's sister's touch. She longed desperately to be safely back at home and with her sweet young friend. Lynn must have been so worried. Blanche prayed she would visit her family and notice something peculiar about Danny.
Danny slid his hand across the front of her dress and stopped to caress the curve of her breast. Blanche's eyes widened with disgusted dread; she was reminded of her first fears when Danny had brought her here and laid her on this bed. During her days here he had managed to convince her that his desires lay only with games. Her body, which had remained untouched for over thirty years, started shivering as Danny's hand moved over her flat stomach.
"You're not like my other dolls." Danny's voice was low. "You're not just a pretty face and hair." He smoothed Blanche's dress under his fingers, watching in fascination as her chest rose and fell with each short breath she took. "There's so much more to you."
Blanche's eyes darted from Danny's face to his hand and then around the room to find something to distract him. "Danny," she said breathlessly, glaring at the blonde doll at her feet. Her voice was hoarse but she pressed on. "Did you know that Betty is almost as old as I am?"
Danny wasn't listening. He ran his hand down Blanche's left thigh and looked up at her. "My mommy says you can't move your legs on your own," he said in a curious tone, "just like my dolls. Is that true?"
Blanche nodded her head, stunned at how unobservant Danny could be. "Yes."
Danny's grin grew wider; he turned and grasped Blanche's left calf in his hands. Blanche watched him raise her slender leg, bending her knee, and drop it back onto the bed. Danny laughed and repeated his actions. Somewhat relieved that he had finally found a way to amuse himself without hurting her, Blanche dared to breathe more freely again. Her eyes travelled to the bedside table in search for something to drink, but found something much better.
"When did your mommy tell you this about me?" she asked quietly, encouraging Danny to enjoy the fun he was somehow getting out of her useless legs. "Did you tell her about all the fun we've been having?" She channelled all her remaining acting talent into forcing these words over her lips without sounding bitter. She turned and reached over to the table with a desperate, tiring effort.
Danny chuckled and pulled off her shoe. "She doesn't understand."
"You should tell her. She'd be happy for you," Blanche replied, and her fingers closed around the pair of large iron scissors on the table. She let out a small happy sigh and pulled her prize towards her.
A moment later she felt a strong grip around her wrist and her heart sank. Danny wrung the scissors out of her hand and Blanche squeezed her eyes shut in fear of a blow or, even worse, a stab. Instead she heard Danny's ardent voice close to her face, "You're gonna be even prettier today. So very pretty… You'll like short hair."
Blanche's eyes flew open as she gasped. "Oh, Danny! Please don't do that!" Danny stared into her eyes with disappointment. "I-I don't want to have short hair," Blanche added carefully, watching with growing anxiety as the young man's face fell.
"But you're my doll! I can do what I like!"
"All right! All right..." Blanche whimpered when Danny yanked her closer by the hair.
Lynn let out an exasperated sigh. Ever since Bert had left to take his niece to see detective Parrish, she had been pacing around the house and racking her brains over the new information she'd gained. Occasionally glancing up at the painting of Blanche Hudson, she muttered, "CLV-3… CLV-3… CLV-3…" Lynn downed the tea she'd made for herself, which had already gone cold in her cup.
She slouched over to her room and slumped into the chair at her vanity. Lazily she let her eyes wander from one object to another on the vanity. There were her comb, her little pink perfume bottle, her make-up bag, a photograph of her father, a photo of her family… Lynn stopped and scrutinized the photograph for a long moment. And then, in sudden realization, she gasped and picked it up. Her youngest brother was smiling absently in the picture. Lynn felt instant fury rising in her and slammed the photograph down on the vanity, lucky not to have broken the glass in the frame.
Lynn grabbed her purse from beside her bed, dashed through the gallery and living room and out of the front door. Once she was already in the street, she came to a sudden stop and stared blankly down at the asphalt. There were a few people briskly walking by, hurrying somewhere, blissfully unaware of the mixed feelings rushing through the young woman.
First of all, she was angry—both at Dan and at herself for not recognizing his participation in Miss Blanche's disappearance sooner. Then there was irritation at her lack of a driver's licence; she would have to get a taxi to the family home. And finally, a suffocating dread made its way into her heart. Lynn knew all too well how unbalanced her brother was.
The cool wind blew her loose hair into her face and Lynn shivered. She could remember like it was yesterday when her brother had told her he would cut her hair. Lynn rubbed her arms where years ago a rope had chafed her skin sore. Images of her own reflection in her mother's mirror flashed through her mind—the tear-streaked child's face, the few remaining strands of hair, the trickle of blood running down the side of her head.
Lynn shook the ghastly thoughts out of her head and turned back towards the house. Her attention now back on Blanche Hudson, she went to get her coat and lock up the house.