Dollhouse (OG Version)

nineteen

Hiiii, so I changed my mind. I did update but it's a filler chapter😂

ARSONIST'S LULLABYE, HOZIER

The passageway I'm walking through is dark. Dim lights above are the only things alighting the hallway. From what I can tell the walls at my two sides are made of sheet rock with some sort of brick texture. Beyond the hall, at the end, is something. I can't tell what it is. The darkness is the only thing I can see, apart from the shadows.

Despite the bells ringing in my head to leave, something is pulling me straight to it.

The closer I get, the better I see. Oh my God. What I see is not what I wished to ever see.

"Gennie," I mumble.

An IV is attached to her arm. Her eyes slightly widened at the sight of me. Tears fall from her eyes. She attempts to move a lone finger. I look for ways to open the glass she's encased in. There's nothing. No lock. No opening. No way to open the case. The more I fail to find a way to open the glass case, the more I panic.

Come on.

Please.

"Genesis, I will get you out," I say.

Shit. What do I open this with?

I look around the corridor for anything. I see a chair some steps back and go for it. More tears drop from her gorgeous gray eyes. There's no way from her to wipe them off. No way for me to wipe them off. Watching her cry does things to me. It reminds me of the night she walked away from me.

Watching her cry had done something to me. Watching her walk out had chipped me. Watching that car come towards her made my heart stop. Hearing her say good-bye crushed me. Then her official resignation letter glared at me while I sat at my desk the next day.

I take a swing at the glass case with the chair. It bounces right off. I do it again. Nothing. No crack. No shatter. The glass bounces back into place. Fight or flight continues to rise in my body. Hopelessness begins to make it appearing as the chair continues to ricochet off the glass.

Genesis' eyes begin to droop in drowsiness.

"Gennie, do not close your eyes!" I shout. She's struggling to keep them open. "Genesis!"

This time she doesn't open her eyes again.

"Please," I say, hitting the glass with my palm. "Open your eyes."

She doesn't.

I wake up, bolting into a seated position on my bed. I look around in the darkness of my bedroom realizing that it was only a dream. A nightmare. One I kept having since the night Genesis walked away.

In the past week, life has turned hectic. The press had suddenly turned on the doorstep of Monarch asking questions. Questions I replied "no comment" to because what they were asking was not my story to tell. Despite being publicized as the face of her father's cosmetic company, Genesis was now getting attention for being a dancer at my club.

Since Genesis was not in the country to help answer their questions, I was forced to use the "no comment" statement. My public relations liaison was working hard to keep the story under wraps. Trying to get in contact with Genesis to let her know of the situation.

Everything seemed to spiral.

Contacting Genesis became futile by the second day. Her voicemail was the only voice greeting we'd get.

By the fourth day, I decided to contact Marcos, her brother.

"I haven't heard from her in a week since she left for Samoa. I don't know if she ran because she knew this thing with the articles would happen or because of you. I'm scared that she may be spiraling again. I thought perhaps you could try to get in contact with her," he says.

"I don't think she would accept my calls. We left on bad terms," I replied.

"Despite everything, Matthew. I think she will - I know she'll listen to you," he replies.

There's silence next because I don't know what to reply to him. I want to disagree but there's also a nagging feeling in my gut that's telling me she would.

"You know what I think I have an idea," I replied. Saying our good-byes, I hung up the call. Opening my email app, I begin to type a message to the one and only person I know will help. I type an in-depth email telling him what I want, why I want it, and why it's important. Knowing that we've had a deep friendship - one I haven't cut off despite knowing what I know now - he will reply.

A few hours later, I was not disappointed by the reply.

Now, I'm boarding a plane to where I need to be.