Boy + Doll

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
My family was like any others until a new presence appeared and changed our lives for the worst. What was this presence, you may ask? a doll. No, not a possessed demon doll, just a regular, baby doll.

Yeah, I can't believe it either.

Submitted: May 31, 2017

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Submitted: May 31, 2017

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We all have disagreements, especially with our families. Some argue over trivial things like forgetting to buy milk, but others argue over addiction and money and health - you know, things that cause tears and grief for everyone involved. Our situation was a bit of both, I suppose, but what was the cause of the dispute? What was the thing that tore my family apart?

A doll. A baby doll, to be exact.

Yeah, I can’t believe it either.

You see, a month or so ago, my six-year-old brother Kyle was flicking through the toy section of a catalogue and pointed at a baby doll with a sparkle in his eyes. He said he wanted it, and so he got it. Simple, right?

In hindsight, we should have known that wouldn't be the end of it.

Dad wasn't exactly what you would call a big fan of the whole situation. He was a traditionalist at heart, believing that men should be the ones to go out to work while the women stayed at home, pink was a girl’s colour, and that girls should only wear dresses while boys wore trousers.

So, it was no surprise that when he walked in on his football playing, ‘rough and tumble’ son holding a small, dress-clad baby doll, with a complete set of accessories to boot; he wasn’t thrilled about it.

He and my mum had screaming matches about it for days on end, and they weren't subtle about it. Sometimes they would fight in front of Kyle and me, and we would both get teary eyed – me, because the words "sick" and "unnatural" were being said about a kid who couldn't understand the situation – him, because of the noise.

It wasn’t long before things spiralled out of control.

A couple of days after the 5th fight, things had been eerily quiet. Mum was out shopping, and Dad and I were in the living room watching some wrestling show he put on, while Kyle was sitting on the carpet, playing with his doll.

When Kyle had come in holding the pink dressed toy, I stiffened and turned to face dad, preparing myself to hear another rant about it, but instead, I got nothing at all. He didn’t even glance over.

A part of me then foolishly believed that he had changed, or at least, partly changed. Maybe he and mum had an actual discussion about it; maybe he had done some research online, perhaps he had just realised that in the grand scheme of things, the doll didn’t matter.

Like I said, foolish.

He was silent, yes, but what I didn’t pick up on at first was the twitch of his jaw, the veins bulging out of his neck, the way the hand resting on a pillow clenched. ”Right” be breathed out “I’ve had enough of this” He stood up.

Then all hell ensued.

He stormed over to Kyle, grabbed the doll viciously out of his hands, and then smashed it against a table, immediately destroying it. Kyles eyes filled with tears and a gut-wrenching yell left his lips, the sound piercing my ears and breaking my heart simultaneously.

Dads eyes zeroed in on him like a tiger watching his prey, and grabbed his collar roughly: “No son of mine is going to become a dirty little fa-“

Before he could finish his sentence, I pushed him with a strength I didn’t even know I possessed, watching with wide eyes as he stumbled back and spluttered indignantly. I turned to look at Kyle, who was still holding onto the doll with trembling hands in the corner of the room, crying his eyes out. Before I could get to him, rough hands gripped me, and I felt myself flying forwards and a stinging pain near the corner of my eye, realising that it had hit the edge of the table as I went down. I groaned and brought my hand up to my face, pulling it back only to see crimson. My eyes widened in disbelief, and I looked up at my father, my attacker, to see his face mirroring mine.

How could he have gone that far over a doll? How could we have let it go that far?

Those were the thoughts that sprung up when I heard the tell tail sounds of police sirens. The neighbours must have called. They probably heard the screaming.

I didn’t know where they had taken dad, but I saw one of the policewomen taking Kyle somewhere to calm him down, and a sighed in relief, knowing that he was at least ok, or would be.

Another officer came over to sit beside me after my head was seen to, with a notepad in his hand and asked me a few questions. When he had asked what started the fight, I laughed. When I received a questioning look in return, I said: “well, it all started because of a doll”. He looked at me with a flat look, “a doll?”

I nodded, “Yeah, I can’t believe it either.”


© Copyright 2017 SameenaQ. All rights reserved.

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