The Glass Doll
1444 Words
The dress Alaric chose for the gala was the color of a fresh wound. It was a deep, painful red. Maren stood in front of the full-length mirror, her fingers fumbling with the zipper. The silk was so thin it felt like a second skin. It was light, but it weighed her down. Every time she moved, the fabric hissed against her legs. She felt exposed. It was as if the cloth was designed to make her feel naked while being covered from her neck to her feet.
She looked at her wrist. The silver band sat there like a parasite. Its steady green light was a reminder that she was never truly alone.
A knock came at the door, The door opened, and Alaric walked in. He wore a black tuxedo that made him look sharper, more dangerous. He stood behind her and watched her reflection. He didn't touch her, but his presence felt like a physical weight on her shoulders. He looked at the way the red silk hugged her frame.
"You look beautiful," he said.
Maren didn't say thank you. She couldn't find the breath. Her throat felt like it was full of dry sand. She stared at his reflection, noting how his eyes never left hers. "I feel like a target," she whispered.
"Good. Everyone will be looking at you tonight. Try to look happy about it."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace. It was a thin gold chain with a single diamond. He stepped closer, her body stiffened. She wanted to pull away but she couldn't. She thought of her mother in a bed she couldn't see. She stayed still.
His fingers were cold as they brushed her neck. He clipped the gold shut. The diamond rested right in the hollow of her throat. It felt like a heavy stone.
"Don't take it off," he murmured.
The gala was held in a ballroom made of glass and gold. There were hundreds of people. They laughed and drank champagne that cost more than Maren’s old life. They talked about stocks, power, and people they had stepped on to get there. Maren felt like she was underwater. Every smile felt heavy. Every greeting felt like a lie.
Alaric kept his hand on the small of her back. His palm was a constant, firm pressure. It told her where to move. It told her when to stop. He steered her through the crowd like a captain navigating a ship.
"Smile, Maren," he whispered as a group of investors approached.
Maren pulled a smile onto her face. She nodded as the men talked about quarterly earnings. She didn't hear a word. She was looking for a way out. She was looking for a phone, a sympathetic face, anything that wasn't part of Alaric’s world.
A waiter passed by with a tray of drinks. As Maren reached for a glass of water, she felt something sharp press into her palm. She didn't flinch. She kept her face calm, though her heart felt like it was going to burst through her ribs. She tucked the small object into the hidden pocket of her dress.
"I need to go to the restroom," Maren said. Her voice was steady, a small miracle.
Alaric paused his conversation. He looked at her. His eyes went to the silver band on her wrist. He checked his watch. "Five minutes, Maren. If you are not back, I will come find you."
Maren walked away. She didn't run, though every muscle in her legs screamed to bolt. She found a stall and locked the door. Her hands were shaking so hard she had to grip the metal wall. She pulled out the object.
It was a small piece of paper, folded into a tiny, tight square. Inside was a single sentence written in messy pencil: I know where she is. Meet me by the balcony at midnight.
Maren felt a spark of heat in her chest. Hope. It was a dangerous, cruel thing. It made her dizzy. Someone knew about her mother. Someone was willing to risk Alaric’s anger. She crumpled the paper and dropped it into the bin, burying it deep.
She splashed cold water on her face. She looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like a girl with a secret. She had to hide it. She had to be the doll again. She smoothed her hair and walked back into the ballroom.
Alaric was waiting by a marble pillar. He didn't look angry, but his eyes were narrow. He was tracking her heart rate on his own device.
"You were in there for four minutes and fifty seconds," he said.
"I had to fix my lipstick," Maren lied.
Alaric reached out. He didn't grab her. He just took her hand and pressed his thumb against the pulse in her wrist. He stared at her for a long time. The silence between them grew cold. People drifted around them like autumn leaves, but they were in their own world of ice.
"Your heart is very fast, Maren. Are you excited?"
"It’s just the crowd. It’s a lot of people."
Alaric leaned in. He kissed her forehead. It was a soft gesture, but it felt like a brand. "Don't lie to me. It makes the ending so much worse."
He led her toward the buffet, but Maren wasn't hungry. She kept her eyes on the clock. 11:45. 11:50.
She looked at the balcony doors. They were open to the night air. Outside, the city was a grid of lights. Freedom was out there, hidden in the dark.
"Alaric, I'm feeling a bit faint," she said. This wasn't a lie. The stress was making her head swim. "Can we step outside for air?"
Alaric looked at the balcony. He looked at the crowd. He seemed to be calculating something. "Just for a moment."
They walked out onto the stone terrace. The air was cold. It smelled of rain and exhaust. Maren moved toward the railing. She looked at the clock on a nearby tower. 11:58.
"I forgot my drink inside," Alaric said suddenly. He didn't move. He just watched her face.
"I'll wait here," Maren said. She tried to keep her voice flat.
"Don't go anywhere," he said. He turned and walked back into the warmth of the ballroom.
Maren waited until he was gone. She looked around. The balcony was empty, except for a man standing in the shadows by the far end. He was wearing a waiter’s jacket.
"Over here," the man whispered.
Maren moved toward him. Her heart was thundering now. She reached the shadow. "Do you have her? Is my mother safe?"
The man stepped forward. The light from the ballroom hit his face. Maren’s breath caught. It was the security guard, Leo. The one Alaric said had died.
"She’s alive, Maren. But we have to move now. He’s coming."
Maren reached for his hand, but then she heard a sound. It was the soft click of a door locking. She turned around.
Alaric was standing behind the glass doors. He wasn't inside. He was on the balcony with them. He had never left. He had just stepped behind a curtain.
He held a remote in his hand. He pressed a button.
On Maren’s wrist, the silver band began to hum. The green light turned a violent, bright red. It sent a sharp, stinging vibration through her arm.
"Midnight," Alaric said. He looked at Leo, then at Maren. "I told you, Maren. I like to watch the rabbit run."
Leo tried to move, but Alaric raised his hand. Two men in black suits stepped out from the other side of the terrace. They moved like shadows.
"Wait," Maren screamed.
The vibration on her wrist grew stronger. It was painful. Alaric walked toward her, his shoes clicking on the stone. He stopped inches from her face.
"Did you think I didn't know?" he asked softly. "I wrote the note, Maren. I hired the actor. I even picked the time."
Maren looked at Leo. The man’s face went blank. He didn't look at her. He bowed his head. He wasn't a hero. He was just another part of the game.
"You're a monster," Maren sobbed.
"I'm a man who hates to be bored," Alaric said. He took her chin in his hand. "And tonight, you were very entertaining."
He turned to the guards. "Take him away. I'm done with this scene."
Maren watched as they dragged the man into the darkness. She was alone on the balcony with the man who owned her heartbeat. The city lights below seemed to go out, one by one.
- Writer
