Dollhouse

T W O

G E N E S I S

I arrived at the House of Horrors. It was once – in my mind – a beautiful mansion surrounded by greens. Now, it’s dark and gloomy. I know what goes on about inside. I know the dolls that reside in the basement. I’ve even brought some home, once upon a time. I make my way to my bedroom where I spend most of my time. I’m laying down on my bed when I hear my door creak open.

“You’re home,” a voice booms through the opening. I sit up and smile.

“I’m home, dad,” I confirm. He grins. 

“My baby girl’s finally home. Did you do it?” he asks. I know quite well what he’s asking.

“He told me to meet with him tomorrow,” I reply.

Dad nods. “Okay. Come down when you’re ready. I’d like you to meet our new doll.”

Of course you do. I don’t want any part in your deprived games.

Stop fooling yourself, Valentina. They are your dolls too. You love this game.

“Okay, dad. I’ll be down in a few minutes,” I reply with a smile.

“Good,” he says.

He shuts the door closed. I sigh loudly. This is getting old. I look around my bedroom. I realize Matthew Taylor is my only way out of this bedroom. The child’s tea party table in the corner has large stuffed animals sitting at their chairs. One single chair empty, reserved for the hostess. Me. My body itches to go there. I feel the tingle in my spine. No matter how many times I try to not move towards it, I can’t help myself.

Nothing will change.

To place my mind onto a different thought, I move to my closet instead. I need to bathe and find something to wear to dinner. I settle for a round neck, light blue wrap dress. I pull off my platinum blonde wig off my head and settle it back onto the mannequin head. I take off the pins in my hair, letting my dark brown hair loose. I was back to being the daughter of a serial killer for dinner.

As I exit the closet, my eyes once again follow the route to the tea party table. I swallow down the lump at the base of my throat. I take a step forward to it.

No, Genesis. You’re stronger than this.

I roll my eyes at myself. I take a step back and move toward the adjourning bathroom. I take a much-needed bath. I needed to take a break. I was too exhausted for what was going to happen at dinner. I close my eyes once I’m in the bath. The warmth of the water was exactly what I needed for my muscles to relax.

~ ♡ ~

Once dressed, I make my way to the dinner table. She’s the first thing I see; my father and younger brother’s forgotten in my mind. She’s beautiful. Her hair is made into a curly hair style. She’s wearing a flapper jewel crown on her blonde hair. She’s dressed in a flapper dress that ends above her knees. The dress is black with fringes at the hem. She’s a wonderful sight of the Roaring Twenties - part of my father’s doll themes.

“Finally, she has arrived…” my father interrupts my observations.

“Where’d you get her?” I ask as I settle myself down across from him. My brother is seated across from the doll.

“She’s one of his employees, Tina,” dad replies with the nickname he gave me as a young child. A nickname for Valentina, my sister’s name and my middle name in her honor.

I snap my eyes up at him. I look at her. She follows his movements with her eyes. If she wasn’t wearing all that makeup and if her hair wasn’t a wig, I might be able to recognize her.

“I…” I start. “I don’t know who she is with all that on her.”

“Of course not,” dad says. 

He drops photos in front of me. I look at them. One shows the girl before he applied the makeup. The more I look at the photos I realize her hair isn’t a wig. Her blonde hair is her natural hair. He didn’t change it nor did he change her hair-do. The last photo I look at proves my realization. It shows her sitting at her desk at Monarch Magazine. How had he gotten that photo without being noticed?

“When did you take her?”

“Today, while you were out,” my brother, Marcos, replies for him.

“Did you go with him?” I ask Marcos.

I feel frustration rising in me. I don’t want my brother to be a part of this crap. I don’t want him to live his life the way I’ve had. The life I had to carry because Valentina couldn't handle it. I wait for his answer.

“No,” he replies. I exhale. I'm relieved.

“Good,” I say. “I don’t want him to be part of that process, Dad.”

“He won’t be,” Dad replies too fast.

“What’s her name?” I move my attention back to the doll. I can’t help my curiosity. When you’ve lived the way I had growing up, you would understand I was conditioned to be this way.

“That’s for you to choose, sweetheart,” Dad replies.

He moves to his chair. He sits. We begin to eat our dinner. The doll has liquefied food pushed into the tube in her mouth. I continue to gaze at her from time to time. I know she feels my gazing because she’ll meet it. Her eyes tell me to help her. 

You can’t…

I know.

When dinner is finished, I excuse myself and retire to my bedroom. My eyes land on the tea table. I move towards my closet. I get the little soft pink dress. I undress and put it on. I put on knee-high socks. I head towards the table. I sit down in my chair. I let my mind play out the sick game. A little depravation won’t hurt anyone. 

The next day, I’m surprised to see the sheriff’s cruiser outside of Monarch Magazine. Warily, I entered the building. I walk toward the receptionist, looking over my shoulder every few seconds with discretion. 

~ ♡ ~

“Good morning, I'm here to meet Mr. Matthew Taylor,” I explain to the lady behind the desk.

“What’s your name?” She gives me a sour look.

“Genesis Kennedy,” I tell her. I use my mother's last name for everything. She places her attention to her desktop. I hear the clicking on the keyboard as she types.

“I’m sorry you’re not on the schedule. Are you sure you were told it was today?” she fakes sweetness.

“Yes, I’m sure,” I reply. “Mr. Taylor himself asked me to come in today.”

“I will have to verify with him. He's assisting the Sheriff right now. Why don’t you go sit down in the lobby?” she fakes a smile. I resist the urge to roll my eyes at her fakeness. 

“No problem,” I say. “Thank you.”

I go sit in the lobby, taking the chair directly across from her. I look at her long enough before I decide. I smile to myself. It’s perfect. She’s dad’s next doll. I wait for approximately five minutes before I hear him.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Taylor," the Sheriff says, while shaking Matthew’s hand. “If you think of anything else, you know where to find us.”

“Of course. Thank you, Sheriff Starke,” Matthew replies.

The Sheriff and his deputy officer beeline towards the door of the building. I watch them walk towards their car. I watch them drive off. When they do, I finally relax. Then I feel his eyes on me. I’m compelled to look. Matthew Taylor holds a small smirk on his lips. I can’t help but smile at him.

“Miss. Genesis Kennedy,” Matthew walks towards me. His smirk transforms into a smile that seems to grow with every step he takes. 

I stand from my seat. “Mr. Taylor.”

“You look beautiful,” he says. 

"Thank you, sir," I blush at his compliment. 

“Walk with me to my office?" He asks.

"Yes," I reply.

When we walk towards the reception table, Matthew stands in front of it. The woman is busy with documentation that she doesn’t notice her boss standing before her. Matthew clears his throat. She looks up startled. It takes her a few seconds to realize who he is.

“Oh, my goodness, Mr. Taylor! How can I help you?” she says all too chipperly. 

I resist the urge to cringe at her hype. I discreetly yawn with pouring sarcasm. When I look straight up, I see Matthew didn’t miss my move. His eyes gleam with amusement. I roll my eyes and smile at him. He smiles back and shakes his head.

“Cancel my appointments for the next hour, Crystal, please,” he says.

He doesn’t even look at her. He only looks at me. I begin to feel heat creep up on my face. One of the first times, I haven’t had to force myself to blush under the watch of someone else. All my feelings for this man have always been real. I feel myself become wet in my panties.

“Of course, Mr. Taylor,” she replies. Her voice drifts away into the distance. Matthew had left with me in tow before she could say anything.

~ ♡ ~

“So, tell me, Ms. Ferreira, why are you here looking for a job at Monarch?” he asks once we are seated.

“Well, Mr. Taylor.  As you know, my family is the owner of a makeup company, as well as my mother’s pharmaceutical company,” Mateo Velez nods. I continue, “I wanted to get experience from a bigger company that deals with makeup. My father approves of this as I will be the one taking over cosmetics and my brother the pharmaceuticals.

Matthew hums in thought.

“What is it you’d like to do here?” he asks.

“I’d like to help with the cosmetics and fashion magazine spread,” I reply. “It would give me a better insight of what the public likes to see. I don’t know a lot about the clothing side but I can be flexible.”

Matthew Taylor continues to give me questions to answer. I try my damn hardest to not slip up. I know of my father’s intentions. I know what I’m meant to do here. I know how this game must end. As I continue to take Matthew in, I don’t know how far I’ll be able to get. I wanted to be independent. I want to be away from my father for as much as I can. 

At the end, Matthew decided to give me free-reign of the makeup looks for a few campaigns. He says it’ll help me put my work out to the world and gain my confidence. I’m no longer afraid to say it: Matthew Taylor is the love of my life. Of course, I won’t say it out loud. That information is for me and only for me. My father would have my head if he heard me say it. I’ve got a job to do. Mrs. Taylor will be my name. I can almost feel it.

For that reason alone, I also requested a job at The Manor.

~ ♡ ~

I make my way down to the basement of the house of horrors. My heels click on the wooden steps. As I go lower, I see the cases. Each doll has her own glass case. Her own box. I see the woman from last night – the flapper. I see she’s gotten her own glass box. She’s seated behind a table. She follows my every movement. The other doll is wearing a pink swimsuit, pink heels, and blonde curly hair. She’s standing, tied to the doll stand. Her eyes don’t follow me. As I walk closer, I see why.

“Oh, sweetheart,” I whisper. Death doesn’t discriminate.

I pull some gloves from the table beside the glass box. I open the case and untie her. Her body limps forward, my own body stopping it from falling over. I take out the cocktail bag, filled with drugs to keep her paralyzed. I drag her all the way to the metal table on the other side of the room. Somehow, I get her body onto the table. I pull out the feeding tube in her throat. 

I take a good look at her. She was once a beautiful young woman. Her lips are plump and bright pink. Her face was well taken care of while she was here. She was given sponge baths by me. I, carefully, pull out the catheter from inside her outfit. I close her eyelids, hiding her blue eyes.

“Rest in peace, Lola,” I say.

I cover her with a white blanket beside the table. When I’m done with her, I move towards another case. I open the one with the flapper girl, Amanda. Another Lucy. Her eyes go wild as I approach her. I kneel beside her.

“I’m going to remove the intravenous needle. This will give you a break from the drugs. It will keep you alive longer. You don’t want to end up like poor Lola over there,” I look back to the deceased woman on the table. “I don’t want to hear any screaming from you once you regain function of your body. No running. If you do, I will catch you. Blink once if you understand, Amanda.”

Amanda blinks once, just like I told her to do.

“Good girl,” I say.

I pull out the needle from her arm. I move away from her. I watch Amanda regain function of her limbs from afar besides the table holding Lola’s corpse. Slowly, she’s managed to drink a glass of water on her own. Not that I’ve helped her. I count the seconds that go by. I itch for the moment I’ll have to subdue her. I’m also waiting for the moment when she’ll make a run for it. I see her look around from the corner of my eye. Here we go. The best part of taking them off the drugs for the first time. I open the drawer of the cabinet in front of me, I grab a loaded syringe. It contains a high dose of poison. It’ll be enough to kill her. Dolls who don’t know how to follow the rules end up dead.

Like all the other dolls who’ve tried to run away, the voice in my head says.

Yes, just like the others, I reply.

Amanda, eventually, stands from the chair. She makes her way towards the stairs. I follow, slowly, behind her. She’s regaining her motor functions. When I’m close enough, I push the needle into her arm. She shrieks in pain.

“You disappointed me, Amanda,” I tell her as I press the poison into her body.

Amanda goes limp in the matter of seconds. She slumps against me. What a waste. I struggle to take her towards the metal table. I place her on the floor besides Lola. I cover her body with the other white sheet. I look around at the empty first-level of the basement. It’s time for new dolls. I exit the room.