Apr 09, 2000
Sparks kemset@hotmail.com
Doll Parts [Emma][1/1]

Disclaimer: Though the actual character is never mentioned, it's meant to be Emma as a child, during her time spent at the asylum, which makes her Marvel's. The insanity is mine, though. *grin* Notes: Many Twixes go to Lynxie for beta'ing and ideas and general... stuff. ;)

And, um, I guess this should be rated R for a bit of language and some disturbing imagery.

Doll Parts




Hmm. It's always dark here. Sometimes you get bits of red flashes here and there, but for the most part it's dark.

What I wouldn't give for a lamp, or a... light bulb. Giggle.

Most don't know the difference between dim and dark. I mean really inky pitch black kind of dark. The kind of dark that causes your eyes to ache and your lungs to crush and your veins to bulge--unpleasant.

It hurts.

Takes away all feeling.

You reach and stumble and claw fall and you never know when you're going to stop because you might not hit anything at all.

So you wander and stand still.

It's like being in one of those wheel things that rats run on, you know? Going nowhere and everywhere and, oh, there's such confusion...

And sometimes... sometimes it feels like pain might help. I mean, at least you'd have something to cling to. Besides fear. Fear becomes quite the bore after some time... not that you ever stop being afraid. No, that might kill you. Which is why it could never happen. But it's fun to pretend.

But pain is but a simple companion. Not allowed to struggle for higher ground, for higher bliss of pain. They don't trust you with a hairbrush--I'm sure that anytime now they'll hand over a knife or five.

Get so restless in here... nothing to do, nowhere to go... and they wonder why the insane never get better. Aren't allowed to see anything worth getting better for. Stupid wankers.

I don't really see why it's such a crime to be insane. I mean, honestly, everybody is. Just because the rude or poorly mannered choose to display it in public... sigh.

I still say he deserved it.

Simple flick of the wrist and then, thud. On the floor, gaping mouth, bug-eyed, clutching blindly at his stomach.

I like sounds... he made funny sounds... oh, but you know what my favorite was? The thunk. Say it: Thunk. The sound an ax makes as it plunges into someone's gut.

...Not that I'd know, of course.

Of course, of course, of course... not.

Well, I never. Smirk. Never again...

It was all his fault, anyway. He spoke out of turn. It's a bad example, I tell you...

They all speak out of turn... never ever listen, not even to scoldings... like insolent children, the lot of them. Always whining.

You ever notice that? It's always when we're children that we have to settle. But come adulthood, all that time of silence passed, people just can't seem to wait to open their mouths and complain. Of course childhood is the best time of your life--because you didn't know any better.

So naive... ignorant bliss... my hind foot. Bullshit. Bullshit bullshit bullshit! They're always full of shit! They tell you one thing and do another and expect you to achieve fucking clarity?! Stupid stupid stupid... they're stupid, I'm stupid, you're stupid...!

Excuse me. I've forgotten my manners.

Young lady. I'm a princess...


Just wait until the old crone dies...

Then I'll be a queen...

Such fuss. They all want me to get better.

I think they just need to get worse.

Piff. They're all idiots anyway. Neanderthals. Don't they know who they're dealing with, here? Hmph. Throw them in the dungeon, I will! The whole lot of them! They'll regret it. They'll regret everything.

When I'm queen.

Yes yes yes... down in the dungeon... down down down... hell is down.

Boiling in oil, mmm... barbecue.

What? Was it something I said? Oopsies. Didn't mean to upset. It was harmless, really. I'm harmless.

I harm you, you don't harm me. I am without harm. See? Harmless. Grin.

Ho-hum. Oh, look, a spider. I like spiders... so delicate, so deadly. Someday I'll have a web of my own... someday. I tried to make one before, but it didn't turn out quite as well as I'd planned. I would spin and spin and spin and spin... but before I could finish, they took me inside. It really was a pity...

Oh well. I'm not one to cry over spilt milk. I miss milk... no matter.

When I get out of this pisshole, I'll be able to finish my web, and every one of them will be trapped.

And I'll get to feed. Drain.

Down the drain, down the drain... it seems many things end up going down. What goes up, must come down. I like staying down, myself. At least I know I'll never fall. Or feel the sudden stop at the end. It's not pretty.

I dropped one of my dolls once... she was beautiful... porcelain face, curly blonde hair, haunting blue eyes... and with one little slip-up she was shattered.

I cried over it. Till Daddy got me a new doll. One who was even prettier than the first. Even more treasured while the other one was swept into the trash.

Sometimes I think I am a doll...

I don't know. I missed my doll, I really did. But the other one was simply held so much more promise. The other doll could do everything that the first couldn't. She could sit, and she could move, and she could pose and pout and look pretty and perfect and say "Mama" when you pulled her string and she filled the bare space on the shelf.

I hope she collects dust.

Not that that's going to happen anytime soon. Snicker. Looks like I'm not the only one with a screw loose. Might want to check on the stability of that shelf, Mum.

Yawn. Life is such a bore here. You'd think that in a place like this, there might be more than a bit of colourful conversation echoing through these walls. But alas. There are more random sounds than you can shake a stick at; screams, groans, moans, howls... and they're always thrashing about, even in their minds, always flailing wildly in vain attempts to break free from whatever shackles them.

Hell, even I'm at a loss for freedom.

Drugs are wearing off again...

Not for long, of course. No, God forbid I have a few hours when I can actually fucking think for myself.

Bitterness in my voice, you say? Hmp. Surely you jest. Oh, sarcasm as well now? Figure that.

I can feel them now. Measure measure measure... they'd better get it right this time. Nearly put me in a Goddamned coma last time... not that they knew or cared. No. To them I'm nothing but another basketcase.

Oh, look, here comes the needle. Ooh, shiney. Is that not what I'm supposed to say?

Prick. No, not you. I meant the needle. Probably.

All this so I can get better. They all want me to get better. Get so, so much better.

Someday they'll be worse... someday... I'll make sure of it...