The puppeteer

I had this doll for quite a while now.

It was a beautiful porcelain doll. You know, the way that most porcelain dolls look like. It was just like that. Wavy, long blonde curls. Black eyes. A beautiful pink and red dress with a typical headband with lace around the edges. It was a doll I received from my mother at an early age. At that age I always thought it was such a pretty doll - A perfect look. My grandmother had almost fifty dolls of that kind. All of them beautiful, perfect porcelain dolls. But this one in particular, the blonde with the red dress, I will always remember. Because this is the one that would be the death of me.

I lived alone for quite a while now. I had just gotten into college, seeing my whole life lying in front of me and all I had to do was to just go and pick out what I wanted. Easy as that. I was aiming for Psychology - A subject I had started to respect and enjoy the last three years. Seeing as my mother was a nurse and my dad a therapist, It was an obvious choice for me. But moving so far away from all my friends and family wasn't as easy as I thought.

Sure, My roommate was a nice person, but maybe not as chatty as I had hoped to. I wasn't a person to just sit quiet in my room and never speak until I had to. I enjoyed getting out, see friends...But I didn't have any time or friends around. No one would talk to me unless I wanted help from my teacher in school or my roommate had forgotten to buy milk. It was lonely to say the least.

Homework was the only thing to keep me distracted from feeling lonely. I didn't had time to try to even make friends. Friends were a silly thing after all. I didn't had time to go and party, maybe find somebody. It was worthless either way, and my dad would skin me alive if I didn't keep my focus on the schoolwork.

The only thing I had brought from home to remind me of my family was that doll. The girlish toy was displayed on the desk in front of my bed, smiling against me when I needed someone to talk to or just watch over me as I slept. It was me and that doll the whole time. That fucking ugly doll.

As time went on, I started to pull myself more and more away from any human contact as much as possible. The schoolwork was getting over my head and the regret of going here began filling my head. But I couldn't quit now and go home, not after my parents had paid everything for my college and car to get here. I just had to stay and make the best out of it. I tried really hard. But with each day the hatred of other people took hold of me and I would need hours alone, just sitting in my room to cool off. It was getting harder to get out each day. My roommate despised me, I could tell. But I didn't blame her. I was acting like a jerk. I refused to take my share of the daily chores - wiping the floors, taking out the trash...But I couldn't do it. I was being pulled into a dark hole.

And with the loneliness came the paranoia.

At first I accepted being lonely. But it had reached that point where I started to realize my dumb behavior, trying to reach out to people among to tell them I wasn't feeling alright. There was only stress and nobody had time to talk to a stupid college student. It was only the nerves. I hoped it was. I locked myself in my room and I couldn't go out anymore. I had to send in to my teachers and cancel the classes, day after day. But it didn't matter. They didn't send anyone in search for me. So I just kept sitting in my room, week out and week in. It was an evil circle I couldn't get out of.

Then it happened. My room had been my cage. I wouldn't eat; I couldn't. It even reached the point where my roommate came and knocked on my door to see if everything was ok. But I didn't open it. I just yelled back in reply that she should go away. She did.

She didn't care enough to make a second attempt. She never knocked on my door again. It was just me. Me and my doll watching over me and every breath I took.