Page 6

C hapter 6

Grey

”W-what?” Naya stutters out, and I can’t do anything but shake my head, my eyes set in a hardened look.

The world tilts on its axis as a relentless feeling of dread settles over me, dragging me into the depths of a vile grip resembling a black hole, impossible to crawl my way out of.

Inside my head, it feels like a stormy sea.

She swallows, opens her mouth, then swallows again, as if she cannot find the right words.

”Was that real?” She finally wonders out loud, uncertainty clouding her voice.

I can’t answer her, because the second emotion that washes over me is anger. Pure, fiery anger that makes the blood in my veins boil at the thought of someone leaving that note here. Rage at the person causing my little doll such a frightened state of mind.

Naya shifts uneasily on her feet, glancing at me from the corner of her eye, probably wondering if I saw the note too. I did, and the clenching of my fists proves it. Nails dig into my palms, creating crescents that burn along my skin as emotions roll over me like endless waves refusing to dissipate.

”It was probably nothing. Maybe someone trying to play a prank.” My voice is determined, knowing I have to believe my words. There’s no other way, and the alternatives are much worse.

”I didn’t imagine it, right?”

Adrenaline spikes through my body as I force myself to stay composed. I grab her hands, my warm touch enveloping her cold ones. It’s as if a phantom has taken over her being when I lean forward, drawing the curtains to conceal the outside world until there’s only me and her.

”No, you didn’t. I saw it too,” I kiss her forehead.

A thought hits me, making unease rumble in my stomach like a dangerous drug. “No one knows we’re here except for Daxton.”

I push out the words, hating to say them aloud, yet knowing I can’t trust my brother. Not after what he did, and not for leaving me like that. I want to scream at the entire world, to force them to revel in the anguish I feel from not getting a goodbye from my own fucking brother. He merely stood there, looking at Naya as if she lit up his entire world. Then he left, leaving me without a brother once again.

I hate to admit that he left a hollow space in my soul that may never be filled.

Our parents abandoned us, and I thought he at least would love me enough to stay, but that wasn’t enough.

“He wouldn’t do that,” Naya says, her eyes flaring with trust for a friend in whom she confided for months. There’s resolution in her tone, a hopefulness that it wasn’t Daxton who did this.

I pause, scanning her from head to toe as I sigh. “Okay. You know that I trust you. If you trust him, then it wasn’t him.”

She bites her lips, sending a rush of desire through my veins despite the inappropriate moment. Like my own goddamn drug I need to take, she always messes up the chemistry in my mind.

“Let’s just try to sleep. It’s late, and we’re safe in here,” I tell her gently as I make my way over to the door, checking to make sure it’s still locked and the chair prevents anyone from breaking the handle to enter.

Reaching for her hand, I lead her over to the bed, gently tucking her into the soft cushions and the blanket before lying beside her. My muscles strain as I reach for something on the bedside table, and when I meet Naya’s eyes, her brows are furrowed, her head resting against the pillow.

“Where did you get that?”

A small, silver knife is in my hands, reflecting the faint light from the moonlight trickling through the curtains.

“I stole it from the reception area. It’s better than nothing,” I mutter, looking down at the makeshift weapon. It offers some sense of security, even if it’s not much.

She snuggles closer to my body, arms hugging my bare chest. A surge of warmth floods through me, removing all the remaining tension. Eventually, she sighs in contentment, soon followed by a yawn that has her arms losing their harder grip around me.

“Sleep, my little doll,” I whisper into her ear, and she closes her eyes as I kiss her forehead, breathing in her scent.

And so she falls asleep in my arms, a smile gracing her lips that I haven’t seen for weeks, maybe even months. Yet, the threat of the note lingers in the air, a harbinger of impending doom. It’s not the only concern weighing on us—this godforsaken town, with its haunting memories from my childhood, adds to the burden.

This is the lull before a devastating storm that will obliterate everything in its path.

––––––––

A MUTED, GRAY LIGHT fills the room as raindrops tap against the windowpanes, giving off a melancholic melody that serves as a reminder of the dreariness outside. The note clutched in my hand is shaking until I realize it’s because my hands are trembling. Not soft shivers—no. Violent tremors that make it hard to hold on to the note in my hands, wanting to tear it into pieces. But I can’t. It’s the only piece I have left of him .

I throw back my head in a silent, anguished gesture, causing the pain to crack through my skull, yet it’s oddly welcome. I do it again, until it morphs into a throbbing sensation that forces my eyes shut.

I need to hurt, need to rid myself of these emotions crushing my chest from within. Soon, the weight will be all too heavy for my heart to handle, and it will be torn into millions of pieces impossible to ever glue together.

I don’t even notice the damning tears before one trickles down my cheek, leaving a wet stain on the paper, and I grab the note even harder while attempting to keep my hand from trembling.

A note from my brother—one I hadn’t seen or even noticed until now, a day after he left.

Our motel room is enveloped in an inky darkness that is punctuated by the glow of the digital clock on the bedside table, showing that it’s three in the morning. The neon sign on the other side of our building, across the parking lot, flickers red through the half-way drawn curtains, only amplifying the sense of eeriness that has settled over this motel.

I never fell asleep yesterday, and after hours of listening to Naya’s even breathing and observing her chest rising and falling, I got up from bed and chose to put on a T-shirt I know Daxton left in the backpack.

Then, at the bottom of the bag and in a pocket none of us had noticed, I felt the slightest bit of something sticking out.

It turned out to be a note from my brother, written in the same handwriting he had a few years ago when he foolishly left an “I miss you” letter for our parents, who later tore it to pieces before our eyes. My heart still clenches at the thought, nausea and anger threatening to overwhelm me. I throw back my head, hitting the wall behind me while gritting my teeth. The physical pain is better than the turmoil inside my haunted mind.

I stare at the note again, hands trembling ever-so-violently, reading the words once more.

“ Grey,

I know I didn’t tell you goodbye. Truth be told, I didn’t have it in me to face the consequences of what I left behind or to see the misery in your eyes from something I caused. I’m supposed to do better, be better as your little brother. I know you believe I betrayed you, and in a way, I did. When you needed me most, I let them take you for my crimes.

I never wanted things to turn out this way.

I ran, letting you get locked up for what I committed, and then I escaped. But a month after I left, a man in a suit with black salt-and-pepper hair found me. They knew everything. They had evidence—evidence no one else had of how I committed the crimes. Surveillance footage.

To save both myself and you, I had to comply with their plan. I worked for them at the dollhouse as a supposed ‘doctor,’ hoping to keep you safe and alive. They promised they would never hurt you as long as I did what they wanted. I thought you’d be safe, serving your time at the hospital until your release. So I obeyed them until you showed up at the dollhouse. Imagine my shock when I realized the grim and brutal truth.

They fucking dared break my trust.

I know you believed I abandoned you, but there’s something I need you to do—something I heard whispers about during my time under their control. Uncover the connection between Frederick Grimhill and Emilio Ricci—only then might you find the closure you seek.

Truth is, I used to care for you, love you like a brother should, but they broke me down just like they did you. I can’t afford to care anymore. I’m not the same person as before.

I’m sorry for everything I did, for betraying you.

- Daxton

I read the note over and over, each word searing into my heart like a hot iron, leaving a trail of agony that burns worse than hell.

I’m not used to feeling like this—I’m accustomed to being in control, with only rage and hatred fueling my insides as I struggle to navigate through the tumult of emotions. That is not the case now, not since I met my little doll. This godforsaken note only amplifies the turmoil within my tainted soul.

I remain fixated on the note for what feels like an eternity, my hands eventually ceasing their trembling. “ Uncover the connection”… What does he mean? Why couldn’t he just tell me? I quickly push the thoughts aside, not wanting to drag Naya back into her horrible past.

Tranquility and a sense of finality settle over me, masking the rawness of emotions that had gripped me moments before. In place of the hurt at the abandonment is a certain numbness.

A muffled mumble comes from somewhere in the room, and I glance over at Naya as she shifts uncomfortably in her sleep. Her brow furrows, whispering in a broken voice. ”No…please, please...no!”

Beads of sweat form on her forehead, amplifying the nightmare I know she must be having. But I cannot find it in me to move, to help, or wake her. I’m stuck staring at her, trapped within the confines of my mind, all because of the numbness that has taken over every inch of me.

Suddenly, a piercing scream tears through the room. It’s raw, twisted, laden with anguish. Tears stream down her cheeks, and I feel the slice of an invisible knife moving inside me.

I wish I could vanquish the demons haunting her dreams, but I can’t. Not when I can’t even slaughter my own that make me numb without the possibility of moving. So I watch, guilt gnawing at me, clutching the crumpled note in my hand.

At four in the morning, a flurry of movement catches my eye. A smaller body springs from the bed, rushing to the bathroom and sinking to her knees. She retches until there’s nothing left in her, slumping against the wall. Then, she stands on her legs while wiping her mouth with toilet paper, entering the room again.

She stares at the bed, as if now realizing it’s empty, until she sees my silhouette sitting on a chair by the window. Wearily, she approaches me.

“You were screaming,” I state simply, one leg stretched out, the other bent with my hand resting lightly on my knee.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, eyes drifting to the floor and her bare feet on the cold carpet.

She meets my gaze, exhaustion more than evident in her mismatched orbs. The usual brightness I see in them is diminished, replaced by a glazed look with slow blinking, as if she’s fighting off the fatigue. After seconds of silence, I shift my attention to the outside world before gently pulling her closer. I settle her in my lap, needing her near, finding solace in her familiar scent. I intertwine my fingers with hers.

“Did I wake you?” she asks, her voice tight.

“I never slept.”

It still feels surreal having her here, in my arms, after so long apart, not knowing if we would ever make it out alive. Eighteen months. It’s been over a year since leaving Dankworth Institute and being thrust into the dollhouse, where even worse things awaited.

“What’s this?” she asks, noticing the note in my hand.

“Daxton left it for me.” I meet her gaze, numbness spreading through me like a virus. “He did all this to save me from the dollhouse, but why do I still feel betrayed?”

I cannot mask the hurt in my voice—she knows me too well.

“You’re allowed to feel betrayed. Why aren’t you asleep?”

“I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see them .” My voice breaks at the end, remembering those left behind.

I fucking hate feeling. It was so much easier just being entirely numb, with anger as my sole companion.

She gazes up at my hair, dragging her hand through it. Over the past year, it’s grown out, the raven color more visible than the red dye I once applied. I need a haircut, maybe to dye it again.

“I feel it too. I don’t think it will stop hurting. Does anything ever?” Her voice is a whisper against my lips, filled with brokenness. My beautiful tainted doll. “We live in a world full of torment and horrors, yet we’re expected to wear a brave facade while we crumble inside. It fucking hurts to live, and that’s the worst of it all.”

We sit in silence, the sound of our breaths a comforting reminder that we are truly alive, at last back in each other’s arms. At times, it feels like this is all a dream—a beautifully morbid experience that changed my life and made me a better version of myself. Yet, even if it is a beautiful dream, I know it’s one I will eventually wake from, and then this will all become a faded memory, long forgotten.

“I feel the echoes of your anguish reverberating through my soul, leaving scars that will never heal. But it’s okay, my little doll. I was meant to carry pain forever, and you were meant to mend my broken pieces.”

In the darkness, we cling to each other, knowing that even the brightest stars fade into oblivion, leaving behind nothing but a vast expanse of space. She traces the tattoos that adorn my arm until her fingers find the eagle surrounded by flames on my wrist. Lightly, she circles the scar underneath, causing me to shudder. I remember the story I told her about my childhood, the pain inflicted by my father for reasons no child should endure.

“Come to bed with me,” she says, standing up and peering down at me.

I sigh, but don’t resist as she gently tugs at my arms, guiding me to the bed. She snuggles up to me, her exhaustion palpable, while a heavy, unspoken burden hangs in the air.

Human contact is such a precious thing, never to be taken for granted. It can disappear in an instant, just when you think the world is within your grasp. I can’t remember the last time we slept like this, alone together, our bodies intertwined with more than just physical closeness. Sleeping beside someone else feels much more intimate than mere sex—a sheer connection that combines the heart and soul, until it’s one single entity.

With her by my side, exhaustion finally claims me, and I’m unaware of the subtle scratching and tapping sounds outside on the windowpanes. I surrender to the oblivion of sleep, without realizing the dangers lurking outside.