Dollhouse || Bob's Burgers

11- I Didn't Mean To

Louise

"I didn't mean to kill my sister." I cry.

This absolutely shocks Dr. Cartwright. "I...you killed Tina?"

"Yes." I say quietly. "I swear to God I...I never meant to. She was...She was gonna..."

Dr. Cartwright's expression softens. "Tell me everything. You're safe here. I promise, Louise."

• • •

Today, I wake up to screaming. Jarred awake, I run over to where I see Tina with a pair of scissors, charging at Kyle, who holds the dress meant to be for her wedding.

Oh no. He told her. "Stop! Stop! It's okay, Stacie!" I yell.

I push Ellie behind me, who holds her baby sister in her arms. "Mommy, please stop!"

The girls cry as both Kyle and I try to calm Tina down. But she's not Tina right now. She's all Stacie.

"Just calm down! It's alright!" I say. The dress has been ripped to shreds now.

But Stacie doesn't stop. She doesn't calm down. She charges at me with the scissors. At the girls.

No.

No.

No.

I can't let them die.

"Tina, stop!" I shriek. "Stop! Please stop! It's me! It's Louise! Just stop!"

Any humanity inside her has vanished. And she charges towards her children without a second thought.

I don't know what compels me to pick up the lamp, but I swing it at Stacie's head in an instant, her falling to the floor.

Blood pools around my sisters head, Stacie blinking for just a moment before her eyes are stuck open. And she stops breathing.

But Stacie isn't the one blinking at me in that split second. It's Tina. And it brings me to my knees.

"TINA!" I wail, holding her hand in shock. Kyle is screaming. The girls are screaming. I am screaming.

"Get out! Get out! If you call the police, I will fucking kill them!" Kyle hollers, pushing me out the door. I don't even have the time to put shoes on as he shoves the Chelsea doll in a bag and throws it at me, slamming the cabin door.

"Kyle! Kyle! Please! They need me! They need me! Just let me in! Please! I'm their mother! Tina needs me to care for them! She...She..." I burst into tears, running away from the cabin as fast as I can.

I don't know where I'm going until I end up on a bus, a kind stranger letting me have enough money for a ticket.

Stepping into a puddle with just my socks on, I approach the door to my home.

This is where everything changes.

• • •

I'm crying louder than I've ever cried. "I'll tell the police...I will...I just...I...I didn't mean...for it to happen. Tina wasn't Tina. She was Stacie and...she was gonna...she was gonna hurt her own kids."

Dr. Cartwright nods in understanding. "I'm so sorry, Louise. I can't imagine your pain. And you deserve all the time you need."

I gulp. "I loved them. More than I loved Tina even. Because Tina wasn't Tina anymore and...I just hit her with the lamp. I just...I hit her...and she just...she just...died. I saw her one last time inside of her eyes and then...she was gone."

I can tell Dr. Cartwright is having a hard time processing this. Good job, Louise. You've stumped a therapist.

"Well first of all...this isn't your fault. You were only protecting those girls. And you saw them as your own. I'm sure your parents would do anything to protect you. This is no different. It was instinct. I'm so sorry." She places a hand on my knee. "I can't even begin to imagine what you must be going through. But I'm here to help you through it."

"I didn't tell anyone that Tina was dead...because I couldn't...handle it. And I said I wanted to protect Tina because I wanted to...protect her memory. Who she was. Not who she became." I explain.

She nods. "I don't blame you. It sounds like Tina was never the same after what happened to her. And you've been through a whole lot too."

I shrug. "Not like Tina did."

"You heard your sister get raped every night for six years. You watched her suffer and give birth. You became an aunt at ten years old. And a mother, really. You were abused. You're just as much of a victim as Tina is."

I think about this for a moment. "Why couldn't she just have made it out with me?"

"I don't know, Louise. But you protected those you love. And that's not a bad thing. You did what you could. And you're still a child yourself." Dr. Cartwright points out.

I guess she's right. But the hardest part of all of this is telling my parents. And explaining to them why I can't call the police.

Because I still have to protect them.