Then Gav’s wife found the doll. She made fun of it and of him. She told him he was a psycho and threw the doll into the fireplace. Gav screamed as the smell of burnt plastic filled the air.
His wife killed his doll.
Gav didn’t know how it happened. One second, his wife was laughing as she left. And the next, Gav ran behind her and pushed her.
She fell and then she no longer breathed.
Something inside Gav unlocked. His father was dead. His wife was dead. No one understood him or his needs.
The night his wife died, Gav cried because he couldn’t smile anymore.
He’d lost his doll.
But then he found her. He’d seen her before, but he had his doll at the time, so he didn’t care much about any other doll.
But that night was different. That night, she was crying. His doll didn’t cry, she only smiled.
Now, she cried for him. She was sad for him, and Gav decided he’d found his doll again.
Gav knew that he’d own that doll.
He didn’t want to hurt her, though. He didn’t want to unleash how much he missed her.
So he found other dolls, temporary ones. He hit them from the back, masturbated to their helpless bodies, then left them in the forest.
They had golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes. They looked like his doll, but weren’t.
Now, Gav has his doll. She comes to him. She smiles at him and compliments him.
He cooks for her, washes her, and brushes her hair. He changes her clothes and takes pictures of her. When no one is looking, he masturbates to them.
To her.
His doll.
The one he’ll own forever.
No one believed in his happily ever after, but he did.
He believed that he and his doll would have forever. One way or another.
My hands are unsteady as I find the pictures in the box. Countless pictures of Silver in several indecent positions — while she’s asleep, half-naked, through the shower peephole.
The door to the office opens and I glance up.
Sebastian stares at me. “What are you doing here?”
“Do you have a gun?” I ask in a voice I don’t recognise.
He nods.
I never saw it coming when I should’ve.
That’s what happens when you watch everyone else except for yourself. When you observe everything except for the thing that’s right in front of your eyes.
I never recalled Dad’s last words, but now, I do.
When I ran outside that day, I was scared because I’d heard Mum scream.