Dolls

I woke up suddenly. I started putting on my slippers. They didn't match my nightgown. Never mind. Something was pushing me forward. Like a hand was burning my back. I stopped at the edge of the bed.

A moment ago, I'd seen her clearly. A plastic face with painted-on blushes. Rounded legs and arms without defined fingers. Lips curled as if ready for a kiss. Two blond pigtails. (The other one was a brunette.) A moment ago, she'd brutally ripped me from my sleep and ordered me to get out of there. She made me put on light high slippers with my cotton teddy bear shirt and pushed me forward until I barely stopped at the edge of the bed. Then I knew I had to obey her. Now I didn't have to.

My husband lay beside me. Sleeping. Smiling. Motionless. Why hadn't he seen her, heard her? Why hadn't he woken up when I started dressing?

I knew the other brunette doll had to be somewhere.

I took off my shoes. I began to search the kitchen, every nook and cranny. I nervously rummaged through the groceries in the cupboards, threw everything out of the fridge. I moved the furniture, peered into the air vents. I crawled across the floor. Nothing.

Finally, I found her in the cupboard behind the bathtub. Her small, nasty mouth was twisted into a half-smile. I grabbed her leg and started shaking her with all my might.

My neighbor came running, alerted by the noise. He was holding a blonde woman. Dead. Her face was scarred. He said he'd pulled her from the sewer pipe. We threw the two bodies out the window. We decided to pretend we weren't the perpetrators of this murder. Besides, to other people, they were just dolls.

Suddenly, something rustled under the armchair. I froze in terror. I knew there were only two of them, but I felt a vague fear that robbed me of the will to continue living. Should I be afraid of them forever?

My neighbor pushed the armchair back. It's just a mouse. I sensed I was stronger. That I had defeated them. No one would ever direct my movements again.

The neighbor came home.

I jumped into bed. I looked at my husband. His face was frozen in a grim smile. It was cold. He was dead. Such was the price of my peace. The dolls woke me up to invade his sleep and kill him.

I went to the neighbor's. I pulled him out of the shower. His brother and mother don't like me. They think I'm a witch. But he's the only one who understands me. I'm afraid to be alone.