"will you let me"

Sarah slept, while the doll’s dead eyes followed her breath. Followed her dreams. Followed her anger and fear. Followed her, stalking like a cat, building slowly a dark structure, melted within the walls, spread like spiderweb made of pain.

She’s got the doll, as a rare act of kindness she stopped believe in. An act of wrongly placed guilt. Her father gave her the doll, thinking that this way he can pay for bruises on her mother’s neck. For nights, when she heard every word of deadly quarrel. The blood in the corner of her mother’s lips.

She didn’t like the doll. She was not scary at all, a normal porcelain doll, old and probably bought in one of many trift stores the city had. But when Sarah was closing her eyes, she almost suspected her to move. To approach. And touch her arm with cold fingers.

So the doll landed in the corner of the toy shelf, almot invisible. Hidden before Sarah’s eyes. But Sarah was not hidden from her own helplessness and fear, when one-sided, cruel quarrels intensified and to her ears were coming noises made by struggling mother. Breaking mugs and bottles. Uproaring storm that was unleashed in the house, and only one wall was separating her from it.

But the doll felt it. Even if not seen, even if hidden, she was absorbing Sarah’s fear and soon, the anger too. Fearful rage of a ten years old, who can’t help and even if could, is too scared to move.

The doll was taking it all in, her insides made of fabric were changing. Filling with nerves, with blood and tendons. You could see as her dead eyes gain veins and sight. But Sarah didn’t see, as she hid the doll deep behind other toys.

The doll. She waits.

Sarah’s father just beat her mother and now goes to his daughter’s room. He is drunk. Very drunk.

The doll waits. And asks silently, deep in dead silence.

Sarah. Will you let me?

Tendons and veins. Blood and rage. Tree of invisible sinews spread around the room, ready to trap, ready to suck, ready to absorb.

Will you let me, Sarah?

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