Broken Doll

And then they threw another sharp punch to her face.

1…

2…

3…

She’d lost count. She felt nothing- not the satisfying crack of her cheekbone or the blood splattering from her mouth or the stinging angry red bruises- nothing. 

Who punched her, you ask? She knew them- once her folk and playmate, now her malefactor. Lovely. 

Shackled and chained to the cold ground, her lips quivered from the biting chill, her mouth let out light grunts in response to the punches. Gone were the days when she moaned and wailed and cried for help…for some warmth. 

Realising that the one who she stood hand-in-hand with had now turned their back on her, she yearned no more for help or warmth.  She yearned for nothing but cold-blooded revenge. Her soul cried for the taste of their blood and their cries of agony and pain. 

That’s all she ever wanted- brutal, merciless vengence.

“You will never succeed in that. You will never get revenge, you don’t seek revenge.” The voice of the Shadow. The damned Shadow. Glaring intensely at it, she growled. She didn’t need to prove herself to it, no. This conquest was hers and her only.

“Poor broken girl, nothing but the damaged remnant of a deplorable past.” It chuckled darkly, mockingly. Rocking her body back and forth vigorously, she tried to launch herself at it.

“You won’t hurt them. You ache for them- their acceptance and acknowledgement. I see it in you.” Gliding slowly towards the door, it turned around one last time, a menacing smile on its face- one too unsettling to look at. A little glistening ornament between its fingers caught her eye. A key. The dark figure threw the silver key towards her, landing just close to her knee. “They have you wrapped around their fingers and you will falter. You will be their little lost dog, or, their little broken doll.” The smirk still lingered on its dark face, before turning away and leaving her alone in the dark dreadful room. The venomous words spat at her by the person and the Shadow whirled and twirled in her head. 

Broken doll that needed mending.

Only a graveyard can cure a cripple. 

A lone hot tear fell off her cheek. 

“No. Now is not the time to waver, now is not the time to give in. I will have my revenge.” She whispered to herself, grabbing the key. A sharp ‘clink’ filled the barren room as she opened the locks. Wrists bruised and red, face swollen and bloody, hair greasy and dirty- she got up slowly, limping towards the door. 

–

A week after her escape, the girl disguised her identity as a tourist in an unknown country. An easy game to play- the role of an innocent, naive, pretty tourist. Her prey would be an easy hunt. All she had to do was locate them, get to them quietly and take them down- slowly, intimately and painfully. She was so close to fulfilling her dream, so very close.

Her breath intermingled with the ‘pitter-patter’ of the rain. Dark skies with the frosty winds set a murderous spirit as the girl watched them from behind a tree. The same damn person, that damn person. An amalgam of wrath and misery surged through her veins as she watched them walk nonchalantly towards their little nice home.

A perfect life… One that she’d always craved for, but never got it. She furiously gulped down the painful lump down her throat as she started to advance towards their pretty little home. 

No time for tears, no time for weakness. 

But…why did it feel so difficult to put the plan in action? 

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t take another step. The determination and resolution that kept pushing her to seek revenge started to thaw. The idea of hurting them only disgusted her more than bringing pleasure to her disturbed mind. 

Tears started to flow down her cheeks, her breath became faster and shallower. Her eyes started to get blurred by the tears. 

Broken doll that needed mending.

Only a graveyard can cure a cripple. 

“No! No! Not now!” Her knees finally gave away. She fell to the ground. She could control her tears no more. She could suppress no more. She couldn’t induce harm on them. Rubbing her eyes furiously, she tried to control her tears. But they never stopped. Wailing and moaning loudly, the sound of the rains and her cries created a symphony of sorrow as trembled like a leaf. 

“Are you alright?” A voice! A voice she recognised! She looked up slowly. 

It was them, standing in front of her, eyes cast on her with concern and sympathy. They kneeled down to the girl’s eye level, observing her face carefully. A spark of reminiscence lit up their eyes, their brows raised in surprise and a small smile danced on their lips.

‘Poor broken girl, nothing but the damaged remnant of a deplorable past.’ 

“I know you. You’re her!” They exclaimed, amazed. And impressed. 

‘This is it. I can do this, I can finish this!’ She tried to push herself harder.

 One kill. One damn kill.

But, what happened next appalled her. Two arms pulled her into an embrace, a tender and loving one. She was enclosed in their arms, in the very arms of the person who betrayed her, bullied her and hurt her. It felt warm against the chill air of the rainstorm. She felt safe…and loved.

They have you wrapped around their fingers and you will falter.

The girl buried her head in their chest, succumbing to unexpected tenderness. Her cries and whimpers muffled by their body, she slowly steadied her breath and they kept stroking her hair gently. 

You will be their little lost dog-or, their little broken doll.

A medley of a sob and laugh sprung up from her mouth, as she looked at them. Hot wet tears were gently wiped by their soft fingers, a smile dancing on their lips. “Come back to me.” They whispered gingerly. 

You will never get revenge, you don’t seek revenge.

Yes. It wasn’t revenge. But she didn’t falter.Yes, she was a broken doll. A broken doll that could feel again.