Four Things

Dummy

First I made a dummy. I propped a bunch of pillows up on one another, and I knew it wasn't the same but it was all I had to work with. The windows were closed tight and the shudders made the room dark, the way it always was. I hoped he couldn't see what I was doing.

The knife came from the kitchen. It was the big one Mom usually used when she chopped up chicken. I looked up 'How to wield a knife', hoping Mom wasn't going through my search history. Hoping he couldn't see what I looked up.

At first, it was heavy, and I held it all wrong. But I kept watching videos, and although mostly they were jokes or creepy or sexual (because the Internet sucks), some of them actually helped.

I drew a face on the pillow that was the dummy's head. It had yellow eyes.

I stabbed a lot of pillows. They bled, all over the room.

Mom never asked why my room was covered in feathers. I think she was scared of me.

I got better at it, over time. I could have practiced more, but I was impatient. I needed to get rid of him, more than I had ever needed anything before.

So one day, I texted one of the numbers.

I can't keep doing this. Please stop following me.

I had written that text so many times, so many ways, always with the same response.

Meet me at midnight under the tree and time will stop for you.

This time, it was different. This time, however, I said,

OK.

I closed my eyes and wished harder than I ever had before. I wished that he had actually bought it.

Dummy.