play with your dolls// h.s. au

four.

"So how do we play?" I asked Harry.

Before Harry could answer, Joyce interrupted

"Listen, Alexandra, I have my break soon, so if you could hurry this up-"

I cut her off,

"Then go. Harry and I will be fine."

"Are you sure?"

I nodded and gestured my head to Harry's dollhouse, hoping that she would catch on to the fact that if I play with him he will become more open with me.

Joyce sighed.

"Alright, if you're sure. You got the key if you need anything."

She said as she tossed the keys to Harry's cell to me.

-

Harry and I went back and forth, having pointless conversations that we would be having while playing with dolls, but unfortunately he didn't have any dolls so we had to improvise.

"So, what's your favorite color?" I ask Harry.

"Blue. Like your eyes."

Now, throughout our time together, Harry has been making strange, flirtatious comments like these, but I brushed it off with a smile most of the time considering he is legally, mentally ill.

What threw me off was when Harry began to card his fingers through my long, straight, brunette hair and spoke,

"You're so perfect. Such a pretty doll."

I swallowed a lump in my throat. Okay, he thinks I'm an actual doll. Maybe that's a side effect of his disorder?

"Harry? Do you know the difference between fantasy and reality?"

He nodded. "Of course."

"Then why did you call me a doll? I'm a human being. I'm not made of plastic, and I'm no where near perfect."

He just stared at me with a blank expression. "Because, you're my doll. Now, you agreed to play with me, and I'm growing very impatient."

Side effects of his diagnosis include sudden bursts of anger, so this was to be expected that he grew angry with someone if he didn't get his way.

"I don't think I understand." I replied calmly.

He rolled his eyes and grunted.

"Dolls aren't supposed to talk."

That sentence sent shivers down my spine and made me temporarily frozen in place.

Harry began to talk again,

"Now, I'm gonna brush your hair and you are going to stay quiet."

I pressed my lips together and averted my eyes to the cold, concrete floor.

He started to brush through my hair with his fingers again and decided to hum a tune at the same time.

I've never felt so weak in my life, I'm too nervous to tell him he's making me uncomfortable, his humming alone intimidates me.

I let Harry brush my hair for awhile and then decided to call it quits soon.

I reached for the keys in my pocket and told the patient,

"Okay, I think I should be getting back now."

Harry whined, like a child would and said,

"No! Can't we keep playing?"

"I'm sorry! I really can't. I have to help other patients too."

He pouted as I stood up and crossed his arms.

He refused to look me in the eye as I bid him goodbye and left the room.