the second floor to the next set of stairs, I realized that I hadn’t stopped the night before to look around and at this moment I
wasn’t particularly interested in doing so but I made a mental note to stop here on the way back up tonight and take a look around.
I quickened my pace as much as I could with the shuffle I had
started using to ease the pain on my legs and practically hopped
down the last flight of stairs. The room was much brighter now
since the sunlight started pouring in. It didn’t really seem much
different than it was when I saw it last night but I just noticed
extra little things. Like the cracks in the walls, pieces of bricks on the floor, actual cobwebs from some of the dolls to the tables. It was desolate and lonely but that also made it mine and I identified with my new home and that made me a little happy.
Scanning the tables I selected the largest one which harbored
the most materials. Scraps of cloth, actual cloth, looked to have
been tossed carelessly across it as well as an array of needles and pins. I selected two different colored scraps, a white one and a
dark green one, and then sat at the end of the table that housed the sewing machine. I stared at it for a moment not remembering if I
had seen London ever use one before. It looked simple enough;
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place the cloths together and run them under the needle. I cleared my throat and with a glance made sure there was thread in the
machine before I started. I slid the materials under the machine
and waited. For some reason nothing happened.
“Try using the pedal,” a voice said.
I got to my feet and looked around but saw no one.
“Who’s there?” I asked.
The voice stayed quite but I heard the sound of feet shuffling.
It seemed to be coming from the door that was directly across the
room from me. Squinting I could see a figure standing in the little bit of shadow that was in the factory but I couldn’t tell what
species it was or if it was male or female and the sound of the
voice was no help in distinguishing either.
“Who’s there?” I repeated a little sterner this time.
“I’m not going to harm you, but until I’m sure you won’t
harm me, I’ll answer nothing,” the voice replied defiantly.
“Fine, just stay in the shadows and away from me then,” I
instructed as I sat back down and turned my attention again to the machine. This time, I used my fit to locate the pedal that the
shadow had mentioned and found it almost instantly. Again, I slid
the materials under the needle this time pressing down on the
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pedal and the machine sprang to life.
I let out a small shout of glee as the two pieces started to
become one. For a brief moment I forgot about the intruder and
continued to maneuver the pieces until I was satisfied that I had
made something suitable enough to cover most of my scars in the
warmer weather. I held it up and inspected it. It wasn’t as perfect as I had seen worn by everyone outside but it was just enough and
I was proud of my first try.
“May I make a suggestion?” the shadow asked.
I glanced in its direction for a moment. I wasn’t particularly
interested in what it had to say, but it seemed to want to be
helpful and that was something that I had been receiving a lot of
lately so why not listen?
“I will listen to you only if you step out of the darkness,” I
replied.
I thought that was a fair request to make and apparently so did
she because when she stepped hesitantly out of the shadows I was
finally able to see who had invaded my home.
She kept her eyes on my cautiously as she approached slowly
at first and she was radiant.
She was older than London I could see it in her steel blue eyes.
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They were serious and almond shaped and framed by a heart
shaped and flawless face. Her wide, thin lips were covered in
some kind of deep red colored paint that I had seen London wear
at points, only hers was skillfully applied, whereas London would
sometimes have it smeared all over her face and teeth. Her bright
red hair was pulled neatly back into something resembled a
horse’s tail. I liked the way her body looked for some reason. She wasn’t exactly thin like I had seen in the movies London would
sometimes watch with me, she looked like one of the slightly
larger dolls I had seen when I first came in here.
“If you go over the stitches again you should be able to make
them a little bit stronger,” she advised as she stopped next to me.
“Here, let me.”
I stared at for a moment, until she gestured that she would
need to sit, then I moved out of the chair and stood next to her
watching her as she went over the stitching I had just done again.
Her hands moved more gracefully than London’s had when she
sewed her dolls together and the determination in her face held no evil.
When she was done she held it up and examined it.
“Hm,” she said as she searched the table for something. She
moved pieces of cloths and shoved some of the books away from
her. “Aha!” she said when she found what she had been looking
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for.
I didn’t mean to react the way I did but when I saw what she
had wrapped her hand around, I panicked and grabbed the nearest
thing I could and smashed it against the back of her head. The
sound was sickening and her body slumped over almost
immediately. I saw a trickle of blood dripping down the back of
her head.
But what had frightened me most of all was what she had just
reached for.
I looked down at her body in horror.
In the bright daylight I saw the seam ripper glistening in her
hand.
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Five
It was hours before she regained consciousness. I spent those
agonizing moments sitting in corner hoping that I hadn’t killed
her. I wanted to help her; see if she was breathing but I wouldn’t go near a seam ripper. It made me wonder how long it would be
before I could get over my fear of those, would this be my
reaction every time I saw someone holding one. Would I always
go into violent reactions or would I one day be able to control this?
I heard her groan as she opened her eyes and felt giddy with
relief; I hadn’t taken her life after all. I watched as she rubbed her head where I had hit her with a rotary cutter and push herself to
her knees. Her eyes squeezed tightly to combat the pain, a gesture I knew well; she gripped the seam ripper so tightly that her
knuckles turned white. I reached down for my weapon which I
had next to me on the floor ready to attack again if needed.
She groaned again as she got to a seated position then
searched the room for me. “What the hell was that for?” she asked
angrily after her eyes finally found me.
“I thought you meant to torture me.”
“By helping you with your shirt I was torturing you?” she
asked incredulously.
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Taking a deep breath, I pointed a
trembling finger at her hand.
She looked down at instrument in her hand not knowing that one
similar to that had caused me many nights of unspeakable pain
and horror, then back at me completely confused. I took a shaky
breath, perhaps it was time to explain.
“The one who m--,” not like that, “My mot—“she’s not your
mother, “I was constructed, not born like you. And I was kept
prisoner and tortured with tools like the one you’re holding.
Especially with one similar to the one you’re holding,” I said
quietly.
“I knew you were different when I watched you sleep last
night. I heard soft ticks and whirs and there haven’t been sounds
like that in this factory for years,” she said thoughtfully. I
watched her get to her feet, place the seam ripper on the table
near her, and come over to where I sat. “I’d like to help you if I can. You seem to have been through a lot if something as simple
as a fabric tool can cause such a reaction, so I won’t hold a
grudge against you for knocking me out as long as you promise
you won’t do it again,” she said with a playful smile.
I nodded.
“I’m Morrison.” She extended her hand to me as Finnegan
had done.
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“Caelum,” I replied shaking her hand firmly.
As our hands parted I felt a tug on my other hand. I glanced
down and saw that she was trying to get me to release the rotary
cutter. I looked up into her eyes for a moment and saw kindness. I let it go and she threw it across the factory.
“Thank you,” I said.
Smiling still, she reached down and helped me up from the
cold, dusty floor. That was when I noticed she was almost a head
shorter than me and something inside of me told me I needed to
protect her. I don’t know why or who I would protect her from,
but I just had to make sure she would live her full life. Imagine
what London would do to her if she found out about your new
friendship, the voice in my head said.
“You watched me sleep?” I asked ignoring the voice.
She nodded, “I was here last night. I assumed you were a
trespasser when I made my rounds through the floors. I was very
close to calling the police until I heard the ticks. I don’t know
why but I figured you were harmless and I watched you sleep for
a couple of hours. When the ticking started to get faster, I knew
you were going to wake up so I made my way back down here
and hid in the shadow to watch you.”
“Trespasser?”
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“I guess I should tell you. This factory has been in my family
for generations. I was supposed to be the next owner when my
father passed away, but the night before I was scheduled to take
over a fire broke out and destroyed almost everything. All that I
was able to salvage is what you see here and I just couldn’t find it in my heart to have this place demolished.”
Father.
That was a word I had never heard before. I assumed it was
something close to what mother meant only in male form. I’d just
have to draw my own conclusion on that and maybe one day I’d
have the courage to ask her if I was right.
“So, you saw my scars?” I asked quietly.
“Yes. I won’t ask you where they came from. That’s only
something you will tell me when you feel the time is right, but I
just want you to know that when you are ready, I will be here to
listen. I also want you to know that what your body looks like,
does not define the person you are. Wear those scars proudly,
Caelum. They mean you are strong and a survivor,’ she said with
conviction.
She sounded as if she herself had scars but from what I could
see she didn’t. I wouldn’t ask to see them; that would not be kind.
Instead I walked to where she had fallen after I attacked her and
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picked the shirt up from the floor. I removed the hooded jacket
and placed it on the table top aware that her eyes were on me the
whole time. I pulled the shirt over my head and pulled it down
over my head and over my torso.
“It fits perfectly!” she said with a hint of excitement.
I turned toward her with a small smile; it was a bit snug but it
was definitely lighter than what I had been wearing and would
serve me well in the warmth of the sun.
“Thank you for helping me,” I said to which she smiled and
clasped her hands in front of her.
“You should see yourself in it. I’ll be right back.”
I watched her dash off. She was going to get a mirror and for
the first time since I opened my eyes I was eagerly awaiting to see myself. Even yesterday morning when I had seen myself I wasn’t
pleased with my reflection, but this was something that I made
with just a touch of someone else’s help and I felt a flicker of
happiness because of it.
“Take a look!”
I turned and stared into the mirror. I saw her fingers wrapped
around it but I could not see her. This wasn’t the same mirror
from my room, but it was big enough to hide Morrison and
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expose my reflection to myself.
At first I wasn’t sure to react. The stitching looked similar to
the way my scars did only these were done with more finesse. I
turned slightly to the side and looked at my profile. The shirt
served its purpose in hiding my scars but I felt as if I wore them on the outside now. I wanted to feel defeated in that moment but
Morrison’s words rang through my head again. Wear those scars
proudly, Caelum. They mean you are strong and a survivor.
“We should go for a walk,” she said breaking into my
borrowed thoughts.
“It’s the best time for a walk, I can show you around town and
we can get out of this place for a while,” she said cheerfully
setting the mirror aside.
“Okay.”
I followed her as she led the way out of the factory and out
into the crisp night. The sky looked beautiful, a dark blue with
light gray clouds floating carelessly by. I could see small lights twinkling in the sky as the clouds passed lazily by them.
“You’ve never seen stars before?” she asked curiously as we
walked.
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I shook my head. There were a great many things I had never
seen from my prison. Sometimes I wonder if that was my own
doing. London had left just enough space for me to see the
sparrow when it had passed by the day I left, but I had never
really cared to look through the small slits until then.
“We can stop for a moment if you’d like,” Morrison said
gently.
I tore my gaze away from the stars and looked at her. “I’m not
finished. I’ll never be able to fully enjoy the beauty of the night sky until then, so let’s continue walking.”
“Can I … can I see?”
I stood there for a moment contemplating her request. She had
already seen my scar ravaged body, but this was going to be
different. The way London left my eye, the hole that wasn’t sewn
up, the small wheels ticking, the empty socket that she placed in
the middle of them; this might be too much for anyone to handle
who wasn’t a small child.
I turned my face away as her hand approached.
“Caelum, I’ve seen a great many horrifying things in my life,
I just want to see if there’s anything we can do to fix it,” she said quietly.
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“You won’t be afraid of me?” I asked.
“Did you hear what I just said? What you have peeking out
from under that patch can’t be worse than anything I’ve seen,”
she said with a chuckle.
I was still hesitant and eyed her for a moment.
She held up a hand, “You don’t have to if you don’t want too,
I was just curious and honestly wondering if I could mend you
somehow.”
I looked down.
How would I be able to have a true friendship if I had no trust
in her? Turning myself back to face her, I met her eyes and gave a nod. For some reason she hesitated at first, her hand hovering just a moment before my face. I took her hand and placed her
fingertips on the eye patch. Her hesitation was no more; gently
she pushed the patch off of my head and gasped slightly.
“Are you a machine?” she asked staring at me.
“No. Not everything inside me is the way you see it here,” I
explained quietly.
Nodding, she replaced the patch securely around my head
again, “Who ever made you must’ve loved you very much at one
point.”
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Love? What does London know of love? I had to keep myself
from screaming these thoughts in her face.
“You don’t think she did?” she asked softly. I could only
assume that my face had given away my thoughts.
I shook my head and looked away.
“Let’s not talk about that now. I’d like to continue with our
walk is that’s okay with you,” she said.
“Fine.”
I didn’t walk next to her anymore as I tried to collect my
thoughts as well as my borrowed thoughts because if I let either
run wild, I don’t know how she’d look at me after I unleashed my
anger in a flood of spiteful words about London.
“So tell me about yourself, Caelum,” she said as she glanced
back at me over her shoulder.
I scratched my head, hating the feeling of the hair that I knew
wasn’t mine. “There’s nothing to tell really. I was made, I