DOLLHOUSE

The dollhouse sat and mocked the girl. She heard the distant sounds of moans and fighting. It still surprised her that intercourse and altercation could happen in the same place. The dollhouse was her only escape, though. It seemed she couldn't learn from her mistakes. No matter how dangerous she knew it was, she kept the dollhouse, played with it constantly. It was the only way she could express herself that wasn't dangerous. She couldn't draw and writing just proved how real it was, even thought the things she wrote about seemed fictitious in nature. Not as much horrifying as much pitiful. The doll house held a little broken doll family. A drunken mother and a infidelious father. There wasn't a daughter in the dollhouse. She had escaped the divergent horrors of the dollhouse. The parents were not the horror. They had been there since she was young. It was the others. The dolls inside. The things that haunted her nightmares, kept her afraid of what would happen if she went back into the dollhouse. It kept her up at night. What they did, what they could do. But what scared her more is that she wouldn't mind going back. Things were happier, she had people who cared about her. The horrors were in control of her life and she didn't have to make any decisions. And the horrors loved her, and she loved them. More than anything. They made her safe and sane.

The stairs groaned and she made her way to the dollhouse. The attic was her safe haven. The dollhouse was lavender and baby pink, deceivingly inviting in the girl's eyes. Younger her was so naive. Older her was too, but she had learned her lesson. At least, that's what she told herself. The dollhouse made younger her so excited. She thought it was beautiful. It still was. But, it was tainted beauty now. The kind of beauty that is made of scars and toxic tears. She sat in front of the dollhouse, shaking in agony. Her father was in bed with some slut and her mother was drunk on syrup in a sippy cup. She could hear the same thing happening in the dollhouse. It mimicked what happened in her life, some how. The bed was creaking and she could hear syrup being poured into a cup. She was scared to open the house, scared to see what was happening inside the dollhouse, what was going on in her house, She heard a whisper.

"Open the door, it's lonely in here," a voice said. The sociopathic, schizophrenic girl that leads the horrors. She seemed perfectly sane, the girl. It was hard to tell that there was anything wrong with her. Her external appearance was a bit frightening, but she was sweet. She was mad, though. When no one was watching, hell, sometimes when they were, she would twitch and whimper and shiver like a madman. Most of her ideas were crazy, too. But she was smart. She was the ringleader of the poor girl's horrors. Her hair was lavender and maroon, her skin was ghostly pale, and her eyes were a sickly green. They gave chills to whoever snuck a look. Her voice was smooth like silk, until she was angry.

"Yeah, Bed Head is getting antsy in here," another voice said. Deeper, a bit rougher. Not as scary as the sociopathic girl. Melanie, the girl in front of the house, gave a breath of relief. That voice was on of ironic reason, since it was the drunk's voice. Melanie called him Ariel. It meant 'God's Lion'.

She thought the irony was funny.

He didn't have a name, none of them did. She felt giving them names would sort them out.

It did not.

The sociopath was Hatter. Melanie thought it was fitting. Hatter and Ariel were sitting in the window cill. Ariel was holding a cigarette. Or a blunt. Melanie wasn't sure. She didn't think it mattered to him. His hair was hidden under a snapback. Melanie wasn't sure where he got it. She wasn't sure how they got anything. "Are you gonna come help me with Bed Head?" Ariel asked. Bed Head was the nickname she gave the boy with blue hair. He had copious amounts of intercourse. He was addicted. It was a compulsion. He was a perverted entity. Then again, he was her perverted entity.

"I've told you before, I want nothing to do with any of you," Melanie said. She had only came upstairs to silence them, something she struggled with.