The Devil Child

Chapter Fifty-Six

 Despite being back home, Polly wasn't really back home. She wasn't in her old bedroom. She didn't eat dinner with the family. She refused to interact with her siblings, both of which weren't too crazy about her, either.

When she'd stepped into her house weeks prior, she knew her parents had moved on, but now actually living in the house, she absolutely knew they had moved on. No pictures of her were anywhere on the walls. Her parents hadn't kept her clothes or her toys, except the ones her two siblings now played with.

Her blankets were gone. Her flower comforter was gone. Her toothbrush, her candles, her everything was gone, as if she'd never lived there at all to begin with. She tortured herself, thinking about how long it had taken them. Did they wait a month? A year? Did they even wait at all?

She was set up in the old office space, her mattress shoved in the corner of the room. A couple of throw blankets were draped over the white sheets, but even that made Polly fume. Her parents didn't even buy her a proper comforter.

Nothing else was in her room. Just the mattress. She had no time to pack before leaving her aunt and uncles, so her clothes were missing. Her sketchbook was gone. Everything she owned didn't travel with her, and it made her feel empty on the inside.

The office didn't even have windows.

She was a prisoner in her own home. Her door was locked from the outside, and if she knocked twice, maybe someone would let her use the bathroom. Maybe. If someone was around.

She thought about Kenzie and Minny, and what they were doing. She wondered about Lennard, his girl, and Tanner. Whether or not the campaign was going well, or if it was crashing and burning like her parents predicted it would.

Her door opened, without warning. Polly didn't even bother moving off of the mattress; she simply looked up at the intruder, and was a little surprised to see her younger sister. The little girl hadn't been very welcoming when Polly had come back, but now there was nothing but curiosity on her face as she peered down at Polly.

Her blonde hair was pulled back in pigtails, and she held tight to the stuffed bear she was always carrying.

Polly said nothing. She just watched the girl, looking into her wide blue eyes. Innocent, young, happy. Just like Polly had been at that age. Before her parents became homophobic snobs with a passion for abandoning their child.

The girl held out the bear. "It says Polly on the tag. I thought... I thought Polly was the bear's name. But, it's yours."

The words made Polly's gut clench, and the little girl had this strange expression on her face, one of wonder and amazement. Like two puzzle pieces found in random places being brought together, fitting perfectly when they shouldn't.

Polly took the offered bear, turning it over in her hands. Her bear had been a gift from her father, and it was worn from being played with for many years. Seeing the bear again made Polly's chest tighten in pain, and she wanted nothing more than to rip the bear to shreds. To yell at her father, to ask him why he'd pretended to love her so much when in reality, he didn't care about her at all.

Instead, she handed it back to her sister.

"It used to be my bear." Polly ran a hand through her tangled hair and let out a sigh. "What's your name?"

The little girl squatted down and leaned towards Polly. She was thin and short, the same build as Polly. Even the tilt of her head resembled a picture Polly owned of herself at a young age. The resemblance was unnerving. "Wendy. And the baby is Sammy."