#oc tag: andrea ariti

[spookywhumping]

Resale Value

This is a direct continuation of the last story, Broken Toy, and a major turning point in Dolly’s story. After the accident that left him severely injured, the Winthrops are keen to get rid of him. Wonder how they’ll go about doing that... Warnings for major injury and more Dolly-typical dehumanization. But hey, it’s not all bad this chapter... probably.

More of Dolly. Other major stories: Intro | Tea Party | Snow Day | Broken Toy

—   —   —   —   —

Dolly wasn’t sure how long he spent trapped in the darkness.

Long enough to realize that he was in a closet. Not Eleanore’s toy closet. A different one, that he didn’t recognize. It was probably still in the Winthrop manor, because he could hear people moving about outside sometimes, including Eleanore and her parents.

But beyond those details, he didn’t know anything. He didn’t know what the Winthrops had planned for him, if they were going to fix his injuries or just leave him in the closet forever.

He knew that everything hurt. Most of the time, he didn’t have space in his mind to know anything else. He couldn’t move his arms or legs without them screaming at him. If he laid on his side it hurt to breathe in, so he spent a while slowly rolling onto his back, inch by inch adjusting his position, trying to do so in the least painful way.

Time passed. The injuries seemed to hurt more. The skin around the painful areas was hot and tight. His arm and leg were stiff and hard to move. Breathing still occasionally hurt, so he tried to breathe shallowly.

His thoughts circled through the same anxious pattern. Denial of his situation (Eleanore wouldn’t let her favorite doll be thrown away), hope that it would change (Maybe he would heal eventually and everything would be fine), fear of his fate when he accepted it wouldn’t (I’m going to die I’m going to die slowly please god just get me out of here I don’t want this), and then... memories. Memories that he hadn’t thought of in ages. It was hard to remember his life before being a doll. Not “hard” as in he struggled to remember, but “hard” as in it made it difficult to suffer through all this when he thought about what used to be.

He wondered, for the first time in a while, if anyone missed him. He hadn’t been on speaking terms with most of his family when he’d been taken. But he had a few casual friends. Mostly people he’d met at college, or coworkers who’d taken the time to invite him to things outside of work. He was never good at approaching people, so he never ended up with more than a small group of people.

That was fine, though. He preferred it that way. He liked doing things alone. Partly out of natural introversion, partly out of a strange arrogance that “nobody else would do it right.” Was that arrogance? Or was it fear? Maybe they were the same thing. In either case, it was that mentality that had driven him to investigate rumors about local disappearances on his own. Despite his boss telling him that this was a matter for police, not journalists, especially not one as new to the business as he was. She’d been right. He was in over his head. If he hadn’t gone out that night, he wouldn’t be dying in some closet right now.

And with that thought, he would inevitably circle back to denial, and the cycle of thoughts would start over again. Occasionally derailed when the pain swelled, returning to where he left off when it faded.

Dolly couldn’t even guess how much time had passed before he finally noticed something different. There were voices outside the closet. He could also see black shadows interrupting the sliver of light that came into the closet beneath the closed door. Footsteps. He tried to focus on what they were doing, tried to listen to what the voices were saying, but he couldn’t concentrate long enough.

Then the closet door opened.

He immediately closed his eyes against the flood of light. After being trapped in near-blackness for so long, it was blinding. Someone sighed. “Well that looks worse than I thought,” said a woman’s voice. Mrs. Winthrop. He heard fabric rustle and felt floorboards shift, and then a cold hand pressed two fingers against his neck. “Good.” The hand withdrew and the floorboards shifted again. “Be careful, we don’t want to cause unnecessary damage. This’ll be difficult enough as it is.”

What will be difficult?! What was happening?! Were the Winthrops going to—going to cut their losses with him? Dump him outside somewhere? Or... do it themselves?

Footsteps, and then hands grabbing at him, pulling him. He gasped and whimpered, but couldn’t find the energy to scream. One of his eyes cracked open, and he saw two of the Winthrop’s servants carrying him, one holding his legs and the other holding him under the arms. Mrs. Winthrop was also there, wearing heavy makeup and an unusually nice red dress. Was she going somewhere?

The servants carried him through the hallways. Pain jolted through his body with every step they took. He saw the hallways in snapshots, like he was watching a slideshow instead of experiencing reality. Before he knew it, they were in the main entrance to the manor.

There were two people waiting. One was Mr. Winthrop, wearing a nice suit. The other was... they looked like a living shadow. It took him a while to process that they weren’t. Instead, the second person was a woman dressed entirely in black, her face covered in a veil.

“Sorry about the delay!” Mrs. Winthrop trilled. “Here it is.”

The veiled woman turned, and Dolly felt her eyes on him. “This is your doll?” Her voice was slightly muffled, but the shock was clear.

Mr. Winthrop cleared his throat. “We did warn you about the damage.”

“And you are not planning on paying for... fixing.. it?” the veiled woman asked.

“No,” Mr. Winthrop said. “But you will recall we’re selling it for a shockingly low price. You should be able to...”

Dolly stopped paying attention to the conversation. He understood what was happening now. The Winthrops were getting rid of him, but they wanted to get something out of it. That fit. That made sense. He wondered if Eleanore knew about this.

“Well, have your people take the doll to my car,” the veiled woman said. “It is unlocked.

“Ah, certainly.” Mrs. Winthrop stepped forward. “Boys, please take the doll out there and put it in our guest’s trunk.”

Silently, the servants moved, and Dolly’s breath hitched as pain raced down his arms and legs. Tears blurred his vision. He tried to look at the veiled woman as they walked past, tried to understand what she wanted with a broken doll. But he couldn’t read anything about her through the veil.

The manor’s front doors opened. He felt sunlight on his face, though once again, the light was blinding and he had to close his eyes for a while. By the time he was able to squint through the brightness, the servants had brought him down to the Winthrops’ long, looping driveway, where a black car was parked. The servant holding his feet awkwardly reached down and opened the trunk. The dark metal box yawned open like a creature’s hungry mouth. Dolly tried not to think about that image as the two servants lowered him into the trunk.

“Wait!”

Tiny footsteps ran across the driveway. Dolly looked up and saw Eleanore peer into the trunk. One of the servants tried to guide her away, but she shoved him back and leaned over Dolly. “Goodbye, Dolly,” she said quietly. “I promise I’ll find you again one day.” She reached in and untied the ribbon around his neck, taking it for herself. And then she was gone.

Dolly shivered. He was almost sorry that she was going. At least he knew what Eleanore wanted.

One of the servants leaned down and mumbled an apology. Then he closed the trunk and Dolly was left alone.

—   —   —   —   —

Dolly jolted awake when the car stopped. Wait, when had he fallen asleep? He couldn’t remember anything after being shut in the car trunk.

He heard the distinct sound of a car door closing. Then some footsteps, and another car door opening. It sounded like whoever was driving had stepped out and... was doing something. He couldn’t tell what. Who was the driver? Was it that woman in the black veil?

His limbs were aching, not only with the same pain as before, but with the discomfort of being curled up in a small metal box. His neck hurt a little, too. It was bent awkwardly to the side. He tried to adjust it, wincing silently.

Some time passed. And then he heard the footsteps again. Coming closer. There was a loud THUNK! and then the trunk opened. The light was a bit duller than earlier, but he still had to squint through it. A figure was lit from behind, leaning down over him. “I am so sorry about that, but I had to play the part,” said a voice. It was... the same voice as the veiled woman. Was this...?

The figure leaned down and slowly picked him up, being careful not to jostle him too much. But even with that gentle touch, he whined at the pain that came with the movement. “I’m so sorry,” the veiled woman whispered. She carried him a short distance, just to the side of the car. The door was still open, revealing the backseat of the car. An inflatable mattress sat on top of the seats, looking custom-made for the space, filling it up entirely.

The woman ducked through the door and gently laid him down on the mattress. She’d removed her veil, and Dolly got his first good look at her. He was mildly surprised to see her face was lined with wrinkles, and her pulled-back hair was a light silvery gray. He wouldn’t have guessed she was this old based on her voice.

Her eyes landed on him. They were a dark brown, nearly black. “Don’t worry,” she said with a gentle smile. “You will be safe now.” She backed out of the doorway, briefly disappearing before returning with something in her hand. “This will hurt a little,” she said. “But don’t worry, I know what I am doing.” She leaned forward, gently grabbing his arm. “You will wake up again,” she continued. “But I think it will be better for you if you sleep through what comes next.”

Something pricked his arm. He gasped. Now he understood. Glancing down, he confirmed his suspicions. The woman had a syringe, and was injecting its contents into his arm, right at the crook of his elbow.

Once the syringe was empty, she pulled it out again, and took a cotton ball and a roll of medical tape out of some unseen pocket. Quickly, she pressed the cotton to the injection site and held it in place with some of the tape. “Not a professional job, but good enough for the moment,” she said with a little chuckle.

Dolly wasn’t sure how to feel about this. The woman was... she was being a lot nicer to him than the Winthrops ever were. But... she had bought him. Why would she be so nice to a new doll she’d just bought? Was this some kind of trick? Or a game?

“I will see you when you wake up,” the woman said, setting his arm down and giving his shoulder a soft pat. And then she was gone. The car door closed. Dolly heard another door open as the woman got into the driver’s seat, then the engine turned on and the car started moving again.

A couple minutes later, Dolly’s head started to swim. His eyelids became heavy. Had the woman drugged him? That must be it. Well... not much he could do about that. So Dolly let his eyes closed. His last thought before he fell asleep was wondering what would happen to him now.

[spookywhumping]

A New Place

As is customary, I return to write a new chapter after months of waiting XD This one is a direct continuation of the last one, which is a direct continuation of the one before that (and both are linked below.) Dolly wakes up after being seemingly handed off to a new owner. He wonders what will happen next. These people want to heal his injuries, but why? I’m not going to spoil it, you’ll have to read it XD

More of Dolly. Other major stories: Intro | Tea Party | Snow Day | Broken Toy | Resale Value

—   —   —   —   —

For a while, the world passed in a blur of colors and feelings. White. Blue. Bright light. A prick on his arm. Pain.

Dolly’s thoughts were slow and sluggish. He could hardly keep his eyes open, let alone move anything else. The only thoughts in his head were those of vague confusion. Where was he? What was happening?

Blue. Dark green. Dim light. Something soft beneath him. Something moving. Pain. Pain.

Were those people? They looked like people moving. Who were they? Had he seen them before? How many were there? What did they want from him?

Dark green. Pale green. Brown. Shadows. Something soft on top of him. Someone brushing his hair out of his face. Pain. Then... no pain.

Things stayed the same for a while. The most that happened was more people moving. Dolly always tried to stay awake when he saw that. Just in case they wanted him to be. But eventually, sleep pulled him down.

Until, one day, it didn’t. Dolly opened his eyes slowly, and felt no need to close them again. The world was so much sharper than it was before. He was able to actually take in details of the room he now found himself in.

A bedroom, by the looks of it. The wallpaper was dark green with a looping gold design. There was a window nearby with its pale green curtains pulled open. Outside the sky was bright blue. Dolly was lying in a big bed with a wooden frame, underneath a pale green blanket. There was also a wooden table and pair of wooden chairs in the room, and—oh! There was a little girl sitting in one of the chairs.

Dolly tensed, then winced as the motion caused a dull pain in his ribs. He shouldn’t do that. He shouldn’t need to tense up around this little girl. She clearly wasn’t Eleanore. Though she was around her same age, this girl couldn’t be more different. She was dark-skinned, hair pulled back in braids, and wore a bright yellow T-shirt that Eleanore would have hated. So very clearly different. He didn’t need to worry... right?

Why was she staring at him?

He stared right back at her. For a solid minute, neither of them looked away.

Then the girl hopped off the chair and walked away. She pulled open a dark wooden door and disappeared.

Dolly wanted to stay awake. What if she came back? What if she brought someone with her? Someone... like... oh! What happened with that old woman? The one who’d dressed in a black veil and picked him up from the Winthrops? Surely she was Dolly’s new owner. Where was she? Who was this little girl to her?

But as much as he wanted to—needed to—remain alert, sleep was once again calling him. He closed his eyes for just a moment, hoping to placate that feeling...

—   —   —   —   —

The next time Dolly woke up there was no one in the room. His eyes darted around, and once he was sure of that fact, he relaxed. Just a bit. He shouldn’t let his guard down all the way. But at least he could look around some more.

The design of the room was... old-fashioned. Not excessively. It wasn’t like the furniture were antiques. But their style was a few decades old. He didn’t know enough about interior design to place it exactly. In addition to the bed and table with chairs, there was also a dresser with a large mirror and a closet, its dark wood doors slid open to show clothes on hangars.

There was also a... well, Dolly wasn’t sure what it was called exactly. One of those things with the clear bags you see in hospitals. It was right next to the bed. He stared at it. There was a tube coming from the bag. His eyes followed its length... until it ended at his left arm, where a needle pierced his skin right at the bend in his elbow, held in place with medical tape.

Wait... Now that he was looking at himself, he realized he was wearing new clothes. Primarily, an overlarge gray T-shirt with faded writing—something the Winthrops would never put him in. He couldn’t see his legs with the blanket, but he could feel new, soft fabric. And... there was a cast around his right arm. He could also feel something similarly stiff around his left shin. And there was a strange cold patch on either side of his ribs, under this new shirt. Band-Aids and other bandages dotted his arms.

Before Dolly could fully process this (Why would someone give treatment to a doll like this? That wasn’t how it worked, was it?), the door to the room creaked open. Dolly’s eyes snapped towards it and saw a man walk in.

“Oh shit.” The man stopped only a few steps into the room. “You’re awake again.” He was darker skinned—like that little girl was—and had long black hair, strands pulled back into a ponytail. He wore a black T-shirt with some colorful swirling design on it. “Hold on. I’ll be right back. Don’t fall asleep.” And the man turned around and left again, leaving the door open.

Dolly stared at the door. Don’t fall asleep. Don’t fall asleep.

But sleep was calling for him again. He could feel it trying to drag him down...

No! Don’t fall asleep. He said not to do that, and Dolly knew what happened when dolls didn’t listen. Remembering that sent a surge of fear through him. The adrenaline momentarily jolted him awake, but it didn’t last long. His eyelids were so heavy...

Don’t fall asleep. Don’t... fall...

—   —   —   —   —

Dolly’s eyes shot open. No! He’d fallen asleep, he wasn’t supposed to do that! He shot up into a sitting position, biting back a cry as the sudden motion sent pain through his sides.

“Holy fuck!” The man was in the room again. He’d been sitting at the table but now stood up quickly. “Don’t scare me like that, oh my god.” He let out a huff of breath and pressed a hand to his chest. “Alright. Third time’s the charm. I’ll actually be right back.” He started walking towards the door, then glanced back at Dolly. “Relax, man. And lie back down, you shouldn’t be moving too much.” And he left.

Dolly waited. After a few seconds, he slowly lied back down, head and shoulders supported by pillows. His stomach sank. He’d fallen asleep. He wasn’t supposed to do that. Dolls weren’t supposed to do what their owners didn’t want. And sure, maybe that man wasn’t his new owner—he was pretty sure it was the old woman from before—but he didn’t want to risk it.

His caution hadn’t paid off, though. He hadn’t listened. He knew what was coming next. No doubt that was why the man had left the room. He would be back with... with something to... no, he didn’t want to think about it. It would only make the wait worse.

Only a minute later, the man returned... and with him was the old woman Dolly remembered. Her silver hair was pulled back in a bun and she wore a green turtleneck and a pair of glasses on a chain. “Yeah, see?” the man said, gesturing at Dolly.

“I do see, yes.” The old woman adjusted her glasses. She looked at Dolly... and smiled. “Hello there. Glad to see you’re awake. So sorry about the sedation. We’ve adjusted the cocktail now, it's only painkillers.”

Dolly stared at her. He glanced over at the man, who was standing off to the side and slightly behind the woman. What was their relationship? He was pretty sure they weren’t family. They looked nothing like each other.

“My name is Andrea,” the woman said. “This is Xaver.” She gestured at the man, who nodded and raised a hand in greeting. “And he says you’ve already met Lilith, too. If you remember being awake for that. She’d be a ten-year-old girl.” The woman—Andrea paused. “Can you tell me your name?” she asked softly.

No. No no no, this was a test of some kind, wasn’t it? Dolls weren’t supposed to talk. Surely she knew all the details, if she’d talked with the Winthrops. This was a test. Dolly said nothing. He didn’t move, either. Did she want him to? Should he shake his head?

“I see.” Andrea nodded. “Well... I suppose for now we can use what those people were calling you. Dolly, right?”

The man—Xaver made a face. “You sure about that, doc? It feels... wrong.”

“I know it does, but this is the best we can do for now.” Andrea looked back at him. “Give him time, alright?” Her voice was almost too quiet for Dolly to hear.

Xaver sighed. “Yeah, I got it.” He took a step backwards. “Well, you don’t need me here for this. I’m gonna go check on Lilith.”

“Alright. Tell her I say hello.”

“I’ll do that.” And with that, Xaver left.

As soon as he was gone, Dolly tensed, instinctively bracing himself even as the slight motion caused pain to shoot through his ribs. ‘You don’t need me for this’? What was that supposed to mean? Was Andrea going to do something? Was this the punishment for falling asleep when he wasn’t supposed to? He would have hoped it wouldn’t be too bad, since Andrea was elderly and may not be able to do anything intense, but Eleanore had been a child and she was fully capable of all sorts of things—

Andrea walked closer. Dolly’s breath hitched. He watched as she grabbed one of the chairs from the table and pulled it over to the side of the bed. She sat down. “Alright,” she said, letting out a heavy breath. “I suppose I should explain what’s happened to you, and what will happen next.”

Dolly wasn’t sure that was a good thing. He stared, waiting.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Andrea said in a soothing tone. Like how one would speak to a spooked, injured animal. An appropriate comparison, Dolly briefly thought. “Not now, not ever. We don’t do that here. No matter what you did or didn’t do. Alright?” She paused. “Nod if you understand.”

Tentatively, Dolly nodded. The motion revealed a slight crick in his neck that made him flinch.

“Alright. Good.” Andrea gave him a small smile. “Now. Let me start from the beginning. We’ve been looking into the Winthrops, and five days ago we found out they’d put the word out through certain channels that they were selling a... doll. One that was, as they put it... severely broken.”

That was him, obviously.

“Given the Winthrops’ character, I knew what they really meant. I felt it urgent that we jump in. Xaver was a tad unhappy about me making myself known to them, but I thought time was of the essence. And I was right.” Andrea’s expression became grave. “If I hadn’t stepped in for the... for the purchase... I doubt you would have made it much longer. Or if you did, it would be in the hands of someone much worse than the Winthrops.”

Worse?! For the first time in a while, Dolly wanted to laugh. Even though it wasn’t funny. And even though dolls weren’t supposed to laugh.

“I can’t know what happened,” Andrea continued sympathetically. “But I know that your arm, leg, and ribs were broken. You had many cuts and bruises, some of which were infected. And it was all made worse by malnutrition and dehydration. Don’t worry. We’ve taken care of all of that. You must have noticed the casts and bandages, haven’t you?” She chuckled. The sound quickly faded.

Dolly had to take a moment to understand all this. Andrea had bought him from the Winthrops because she thought he... wouldn’t make it. That thought made him feel very cold. He decided not to focus on this part. And instead wondered what Andrea wanted from him now. She had to have a reason for this. People didn’t just buy dolls to fix them up. They fixed dolls so they could use them later.

“Unfortunately, you won’t be able to move much while your body heals,” Andrea said. “I don’t want your injuries getting worse. But I will be visiting you. Every day, at least once. You and I will be... working on things together. If I cannot come, Xaver will check on you.” She paused. “Do you understand? Nod if you do.”

Dolly nodded. Okay. So she did want something after this. Work on what, though?

Andrea’s eyes scanned his face. “Before I go,” she said softly. “I need to... establish something. For this to work. I want you to respond to questions when I ask them. When you do, I want you to be as honest as possible, according to your own thoughts. Do you understand?”

He... thought he did. Unless... this was another test? Or a trick? After a few seconds of internal debate, Dolly hesitantly nodded. He held his breath as he anticipated Andrea’s response.

“Good.” She smiled, and pushed herself to her feet. “I will be back to check on you later today. Get some rest. Don’t be afraid to fall asleep; I do not mind if you are sleeping when I check on you. Understand?”

Dolly nodded one last time.

“Great.” Another smile. “I will see you again, Dolly.” With that, she walked towards the door and left the room, closing it behind her.

Dolly waited, just in case she was going to change her mind and come back. She didn’t. And that man, Xaver, didn’t appear either. So he finally relaxed. He turned his head to stare out the window. The sky outside was clear. A sunny day. It was... nice.

But surely the sky would cloud over again.

It wasn’t worth hoping for constant sun.

[spookywhumping]

Whumptober Day 28

No. 28 IT’S JUST THE TIP OF THE ICEBERG | Punching the Wall

There was a knock at the door. Simon glanced towards it, but said nothing. Nobody had ever knocked on his door in this place. They just came in.

Well, a few seconds later, the door opened anyway. So maybe the knock was more of a warning. A nurse poked her head into the room. “Is everything alright in here?” she asked. “I heard some noises.”

Simon stared at her. He’d seen her before. Only once, but he recognized the long black braid and the strange accent. He didn’t know her name, though. Maybe she was new.

The nurse looked at him, brows drawing together in a puzzled expression. No doubt she was wondering why he was standing up and facing a wall. Then her eyes flicked downward and she gasped. “Hand!” Simon immediately hid his hand behind his back, but it was too late. The nurse bustled inside. She closed the door behind her and started digging into her apron pockets. “I carry bandages with me,” she said, pulling out a roll in question. “For the bad things.”

As she started walking closer, Simon backed up until his back hit the wall. “Don’t,” he said. Normally he would’ve said more, but right now his head was...buzzing. Yes, that’s it. There was the steady sound of buzzing in his head. It was making it hard to concentrate.

The nurse stopped walking. She was close, but out of arm’s reach. “It is only the bandages,” she said, giving him a small smile. “You have hurt your hand, I can see it.” Her eyes flicked to the side. “And I can see where you hurt it.”

Simon’s eyes also flicked to the side. He knew what she was talking about, though it was just out of eyesight from where he was standing. A circular spot on the wall that was stained red. It matched the bleeding cuts on his knuckles. “There’s not...much to do in here,” he said quietly, partly as an explanation, partly as a defense.

“So you hit the wall?” The nurse asked.

“Yes.” Initially, he wanted to slam his head into the plaster, just to help the buzzing calm down. But he managed to resist the urge...if only by punching the wall until his hand started to bleed.

“Well, that is a hard surface,” the nurse said. Simon laughed at how obvious that statement was. She paused for a moment before continuing. “If you want to hit walls, there is a room in here that has walls with paddings—”

“No.” Simon shook his head. He didn’t like those rooms.

“Alright. But your hand is still hurt.” The nurse held out the bandages. “I am not supposed to give this to you, but if you want to wrap yourself, you can.”

That was...new. Simon stared at the nurse for a good few moments, trying to figure out what the point of this was. It must be some kind of test, right? After a moment, he held out his hand. “Do it,” he muttered, bracing himself.

“Ah. If you say so.” The nurse took his hand and unrolled some of the bandages. She began wrapping it up. He waited for something to happen—maybe she would tighten the bandages suddenly, or grab his arm and pull a syringe from her pocket—but she just steadily, gently wrapped up the wound. Then let go. “Is that better?”

Simon stared at her some more. He looked down at his hand and examined it, twisting it over and over. Nothing was wrong. It was just...a bandaged wound. He looked back at her. For the first time, he noticed they were eye level. That didn’t usually happen. Simon was quite tall; most people were at least slightly shorter when he stood up straight, as he was doing right now.

“I remember you,” the nurse said. “You were the one in the closet? With the orderlies? They took out your shoulder.”

“Dislocated,” Simon muttered.

“Yes, dislocated.” The nurse sighed. “I did never think I would see things like that here. But I am seeing more and more.” Then she shook her head and smiled at him. “I am Nurse Ariti. If you need help, I will try to help. Do you want to tell me who you are?”

Simon hesitated. He started to shake his head, then stopped. “I’m...Simon,” he said carefully. He didn’t have to tell her his last name.

“It is nice to meet you, Simon. You can ask for me when you need.” Ariti gave a little bow, holding onto her skirt, then turned and left Simon’s room.

He watched her go, confused, but feeling the slightest hint of... No. No, he couldn’t have that. He shook his head and pushed down the rising feeling. He couldn’t be hopeful. Not here. It would make him do foolish things. There was nothing he could do to get out of here. What good was hope when he knew that?

After a moment, he sat down on the bed, holding his injured hand in his other. The buzzing was still there. But it had been easier to ignore when someone was talking to him.