Soon after Mark left, Susan had lunch with Kelan in the kitchen. Their words were few, two strangers at a bus stop, and so she sat in her rocker and watched the world turn colder. She never heard him take the stairs, nor the noises from the basement; her home had become an empty tomb. As the afternoon drifted away she grew weary of staring blankly out her window, and as it started to snow she went upstairs to lie down. That was when she found it.
The doll’s gown was in red and gold tatters, slashed and torn. The body was broken. Susan picked up the remains, cradling the tiny head. Its long-flowing hair had been been ripped from its porcelain skull. A few strands remained, while the rest had been tossed about the room like celebratory ribbons. The doll’s skin, once flawless cream, was ripe with scrapes and scratches. It smiled oddly, its affection stilted and disconcerting. Its eyes had been gouged out and lay on the floor.
The other dolls stared.
Susan slipped back on her bed, incredulous and heartbroken.
How could he do this to me?
But she knew better. For Kelan to do this—to do this to her—no.
It did this.
She rose quickly and went to Kelan’s door. The doll she clutched firmly in hand. She braced herself for the sickness and reached for the knob. The door opened before she grabbed it, and she stepped back with a gasp.
“Mom?”
“Kelan—”
Kelan’s eyes fell to the doll. “What happened to that?”
Susan started to say something, but held her tongue.
“Mom?”
“You tell me,” Susan said. “I want the truth.”
“I … I didn’t do that.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Maybe Eric did it.”
“Kelan!” Susan glanced past him. It was in there. She could feel it. She tried to imagine him holding it, scratching the face of her doll with it. Gouging its eyes out. Ripping the hair from its skull.
“I didn’t do it.”
“That’s it … this has gone far enough.”
“I didn’t do it!”
“As of this instant, you can forget about that damn Run.”
“But I told you—”
“I’m taking your snowboard away for good.”
“You can’t do that!”
“Oh no? Watch me, kiddo. And I’m putting it in the basement.”
Kelan stood slightly agape, his lower lip trembling. Susan knew she had crossed a line she never should have drawn, and she hated herself for it. She let him pass, and he locked himself in the bathroom. She could hear him fighting back the tears.
In her bedroom, she closed the door and leaned back against it. Kelan’s sobs kept on for a time, and it was all she could do to keep from rushing out and telling him she hadn’t meant it.
She sat on the bed and ran her fingers along the sculpted curves of the doll’s face. The scars ran deep. A hairline crack split its cheek.
She found its shiny eyes on the carpet and set them back in their sockets. Cuddling up with it on her bed, she stroked what was left of its fine hair. She kissed it gently.
And wept.