Gift Fragment Chapter: Paradise
She had always been proud of how much effort she put into things, such that people called her a genius.
"Ouch…"
Not this time.
She got pricked again. Not deep, but it still annoyed her. Blood glistened like little pearls as it squeezed through that tiny hole. It would only take a couple of minutes for a healing balm to get rid of the pain— it was only a hassle to wait. She wrapped another band-aid around her finger. It was the third one now.
Annoying— but why? Sewing wasn't all that foreign to her; she loved it— excelled at it. Her hobby had been to decorate her room with all sorts of cute plushies she made herself. So why? Why were these four dolls so hard to make?
She went over their designs twice over. She bought only the best fabrics for their clothes and only the fluffiest of cotton for their stuffings. She used her favorite silk thread and sewing needle, but her hands trembled clumsily as if her body itself refused to create.
...Maybe it's because they were only dolls.
Something broiled in her stomach and a nauseous headache made her want to vomit. Acid and salt coated her tongue. She retched louder.
It was always so salty.
So disgusting, so vile. Every day, she was forced to drink it. Every time, she was forced to swallow that defiling cream else she'd get beaten. Even when she begged, she wasn't safe from the cruel lashes. The choking binds. The merciless gut-punches. The creepy clothes. The sticky beds. The icky biting. The relentless pulling of her arms and hair as she laid there for them to abuse at their pleasure. Over and over and over and over, every hour, every minute, every agonizing second— nonstop, passed around to the next stinking person in line like some sort of precious… doll.
"I'M NOT A DOLL...!"
…
She blinked. She was at home, sitting on the clean sofa in her living room. Not elsewhere. The doll in her hand stared at her— or would have, had she finished sewing in its eyes. She gently put it aside and wiped the snot dripping down her mouth.
Her throat felt parched. Thankfully, the kitchen was nearby. Pouring herself a glass, she drank it in big gulps. It tasted fresh and sweet. Syrupy.
The water of life. She spat it out.
Ah, she made a mess. She was taught to always clean up after herself. The mop was in the nearby closet if she recalled.
She couldn't move. Her legs shook until they eventually gave up on letting her stand. She grabbed on to the sink. Sweat trickled down her brows and cheek.
Cheek? Oh. They were tears.
She took a deep breath and slowly pulled herself back up. Right, she spilled water all over the floor. She should clean it up before anyone saw. She did so quickly enough.
Manual labor always calmed her down— it's why she volunteered to do all the household chores herself. To keep herself sane.
And a mug of hot chocolate too. She took a sip and plopped back down on the sofa. The unfinished doll stared at her with a button-eye dangling from its face.
"..."
The chocolate was tasty. The sofa was comfy. She's lived in a bright house now, filled with love, adoration, and many more blessed things. But...
They weren't.
They never knew what it was like to grow up happy. They didn't know what it was like to be hugged by people that cared for you with all their heart; to be surrounded by those same people that would do everything to protect you. People who would never bring you misery or suffering. People who would bring instead lots of different emotions she had never felt as a child.
No. They were cold. They were sad. All of them were gone.
She killed them. They were lonely. Forever.
She got back to work.
Was it enough? She tried her best to make them look as they were in her memories. Would they be satisfied?
Probably not.
She laid the dolls right next to the grave. A snow-covered grave, near their house. It was well-maintained, obviously because it meant a lot to the family. She didn't meet the person buried there, but she could tell that she was a wonderful person for having given birth to a wonderful daughter.
"Miss Lena," she prayed. It was a pretty name. "Please take care of these children. Each and every one of them is wonderful, like you, Estelle, and Joshua. Please look after them in your family heaven, so that they would keep on smiling and smiling. I promise to be a good girl and keep smiling as well."
But… why can't she muster up the motivation to? She tried, yet it felt plastic to her cheeks. She sighed at the lonely dolls. Snowflakes fell atop their heads, soon to dampen their hair like droplets of rain.
They must feel really cold.
She should go back.
Muffled steps approached her before she could move. Were they home already? They weren't supposed to come home today but— did she leave the door unlocked? Oh no.
They were frowning.
In her panic, she forgot to smile. She already broke her promise.
The scolding never came. Instead, a hand patted her head, and slender arms hugged her tightly. "We're home," Estelle said. Estelle's cheeks were flushed, and she stank a bit of sweat from the arduous day of being a bracer. But, her body was warm.
She liked warm.
Joshua stroked her hair. He didn't talk much, but she liked his coolness. His amber eyes weren't hollow anymore as she remembered them to be. They sparkled with newfound life.
"Did you finish them?" Estelle asked.
She mewled in agreement. She did finish them, just like she said she would.
Joshua took out a colorful striped paper bag. "I guess we should give them our present, too."
A cotton scarf curled around her neck. It was warm, too. And colorful like the bag. She liked warm. She had an idea. Would they like it? Would Estelle and Joshua like it? Would they allow it? It was their present, after all.
Estelle and Joshua nodded.
Unfurling her scarf, she warped it around the dolls until all four of them cuddled under its soft, yet sturdy fabrics. It was long enough that she could wrap it around the gravestone. They could be warm now, like her.
There were four dolls: two girls, two boys. One girl had cheerful brown hair, while the other had smooth and silky black. They were always the best of friends and would often play together even though they could never be more opposite each other. A small boy peeked from their side. He was shy, but it was fine; he loved being cuddled too.
Last but not least, their leader, the tallest boy, hugged them all. He was protecting them, as a leader should.
That's right. She was the one protecting them now. Protecting their memory. They were in paradise. A paradise of her, and her new family's creation. She wouldn't let anyone dare to lay a finger on it.
She read the tiny words embroidered on the scarf.
'We love you, Renne.'
Fitting. She couldn't help but laugh.
Ho.