The china doll

Break one

I snuggled up to my parents and burrowed myself deeper into the fuzzy blankets that were strung across the couch. My father had out his bible and was reading verses out loud to me and my mother. I listened intently to his booming voice that was loud and clear as the story of Jonah flowed flawlessly from his smooth lips.

"But it displeased Jonah exceedingly, and he was very angry. And he prayed unto the Lord, and said, 'I pray thee, O Lord, was not this my saying, when I was yet in my country? Therefore I fled before unto Tarshish: for I knew that thou art a gracious God, and merciful, slow to anger, and of great kindness, and repentest thee of the evil. Therefore now, O Lord, take, I beseech thee, my life from me. For it is better for me to die then to live.'" He said.

Before he could continue what sounded like a dish or piece of glass broke somewhere in the house. I sat up along with my mother and father who exchanged worried looks with each other. At the sight of me both of their expressions turned grim. My mother grabbed my arm firmly, despite the shakiness in her small fragile hands, and pulled me towards my room. She pushed me in. I looked back at her. Her brown eyes looked worried for a moment but they quickly changed to an expression that appeared to be carved out of stone. She shut the door behind her and locked me in. Sitting in a corner of my room, I brought my knees up to my chest in a fetal position and waited.

An unearthly scream overlapped a loud gun shot and everything was quiet for a moment. I didn't dare move, nor breathe, for fear that it would break the everlasting silence that seemed to stretch for miles. It wasn't until was the doorknob shook that I was snapped out of my daze.

Mommy and daddy knows I'm in here. They wouldn't shake the doorknob. They'd turn it, open the door, and tell me everything was going to be alright. This isn't mommy. And this isn't daddy. This is someone else. But what do they want? One thing was for sure. I didn't want to find out.

There were shouts of protests and words I didn't know the meanings of coming whom I recognized to be my father. The gun shot rang out again. I laced my fingers together and tried praying.

"Jesus, please make it stop. Please make it stop. Make it stop!" I screeched at the top of my lungs.

The door rattled when a body banged against it. I shook with fear. It shook again, and again, and again until the rusty hinges gave way and the door fell down to reveal the culprit. A man in a ski mask stood at the entrance with handgun in his right hand. His large barrel-shaped chest rose and fell and his blue eyes were locked on me. He took long strides forwards and before I knew it he was standing in front of my cowering frame. What does he want? What does he want? What does he want? This one thought raced through my head but my tongue was twisted in knots and my voice had deserted me.

The man reached down and grabbed my hair. I yelped in pain as he pulled me up and dragged me out the door. I looked around but didn't see any one. The only signs of life in the house was a unfamiliar laugh coming from the other side of the house. The owner of that laugh spoke.

"Look at you." He sneered. "You used to be a god. People would worship the very ground you walked on. They would give everything just to speak your very name, and they would cower in fear when you walked in the room.  You had it all. But now, now you are just a pathetic weakling and it's all because you let that woman bring you down. She was supposed to be another one of your play things. You fell for her. And you fell hard. You were her toy. You were putty in her hands and you gave up your entire life, your money, your fame, your family, because she said to. You were a foolish boy and now you must pay for it." The man holding my hair and I had been walking- well more like dragging- through the house but now we had stopped in my now bloodied living room. The entire scene was terrifying.