Always Be With You

The Living Doll

Somewhere in a town, a dull-looking shop stood against the busy presence of townspeople. Despite how old it may seem, various good-looking dolls were displayed outside to attract small little girls or any adults who happen to have taken an interest in them. These dolls were dressed in an elegant and Gothic fashion, eyes so pretty but blank, lashes so dark, lips as pink as a new born baby skin's. They were waiting patiently, looking out to welcome any interested costumers despite how dusty some of them have become.

It seems like any other day, standing patiently, unmoving just by the counter as she, too, was looking out from the window. Everyday, her hoping to get out one day from this house is unconsciously increasing.

Even with her tight dress which hugs her slender waist, she had grown used to them. She had grown used to how humid it had always felt under that pink with cream colored dress, how she hates the taste of the old lipstick her father purchased from the other store; how lonely the shop had always been.

Seeing the delighted face of the same young girl smiling admiringly at the dolls displayed outside, she gave herself a small smile. At least there is a girl who still has an interest about dolls. She saw her touching the first doll from the left, who was dressed in a lavender Gothic dress, which has blonde hair made from fine yards her father knew where he got them. The little girl from the outside gave another small smile to the doll she was holding and then put it back when her mother signalled her to come next to her. Yaya sighed when she saw her leaving again.

Noticing that the afternoon light had peeked through the old shop's creaks, Yaya finally moved from the spot she were in. Silently walking away from the counter, she carefully went to the nearby window.

She was bringing her favourite doll, her best friend. She had short blue locks of hair tied into two loose pigtails and a yellow headdress. She had shiny but beautiful blank blue eyes, one was broken when she was a kid, and her mouth always spreads a wide and happy smile and was wearing a yellow Gothic dress.

Yaya smiled back at her, "Well, Ying. It's just another lonely and quiet day." She carefully swiped the bangs on its place she had grown up with. The doll was heavy, knowing that it was made with some polyethylene and other mixtures her father only knew what it was. She began cradling it on her arms, "I wonder if father's going to come home late tonight?"

Tracing a finger on its broken eye, she carefully poke it. It was only a crack but not that serious. It was just her father who seemed to overreact a bit when she was a child.

She remember the quiet old man's red orbs seemed to glow in deep anger as he hit her on the same eye where she caused the mishap. She remembered the first time her quiet father shouted at her and hit her countless times until she remembered the haunting pain and warm blood splattered around her eye.

She unconsciously touched where it was and smiled bitterly when she remembered that she can only saw now with her one eye. Still, she forgave her father after she saw him cried a forgiveness in front of her conscious state which was laying on the wooden floor.

She gave another smile to the doll as she blinked her thoughts away. Yaya looked out on the window again, smelling the newly baked breads nearby and continued observing the busy street outside the shop.

"You are not allowed to go outside, understand?" She remembered his usual worried but cold voice.

"But what if someone would steal one of those dolls outside, father? Am I not allowed to chase the thief and get the doll back?" She countered, her voice soft.

She remembered how his father's usual stare turned into a dark one which made her shivered, "Leave them to me, My baby doll."

"Y-Yes, father."

"And one more thing. Don't mingle with the Royalties. You know how much I resented them." His tone had gotten into almost like a warning growl so she just hugged her best friend.

"Yes, father. I understood." She remembered how her old father ruffled her wavy brown hair and will give her a small smile to which will made her happy.

Suddenly, she was distracted at a sudden creak of the old shop's door as unfamiliar voices of men filled the quiet place. She stood frozen on her place on what she saw.

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•Be aware.
May contain unsettling scenes, angst, psychopathy, and horror not appropriate to sensitive readers. Continue at your own risk.

Thanks for reading!