Never was I so afraid than when she first showed me the dollhouse.
April 19th, 1961 was the last day anyone saw me before I went missing. It was the day before my 25th birthday. I remember so vividly how dark the storm had made that evening. My birthday party was hosted in my neighbor Lindsay’s house. Only close friends were present. A cake was brought out and I blew out the candles. I remember what I wished for. That Victoria would accept my marriage proposal. I would have given her the ring sometime during the next week. God, I remember.
Silver rain coursed down the black windows, and between the flashes of lightning and bursts of thunder, I felt brief premonitions of doom. During the evening I also could feel a tight squeeze around my chest, and a lightheaded dizziness which frightened me. Perhaps it was all a warning. Like how animals can sense when an earthquake is near, perhaps something deep within my humanity, something instinctual, was calling out to me. For my earthquake was near, and the sound of the thunder would be with me daily from then on, for the rest of my life.
Brooke.
One by one, the guests departed. I shook hands and gave hugs. Then Lindsay asked me something I can’t quite remember. But my answer was, "Tomorrow." I was the last to leave, and Lindsay wished me a happy birthday as I closed her front door, turned, and stepped out on her lawn.
Maybe it was because I wasn’t sober, or because the fence between our houses was not that tall, but I climbed the fence and planned to hop it, when suddenly I heard a voice.
"Daniel," it said.
I dropped down to my feet and peered into the darkness, but for the rain I could not see anything.
"Daniel," it repeated.
"Yes?" I shouted. "Who’s calling?" When no answer came after an inordinate time, I followed to where the voice had originated. "Hello?"
A bright flash as bright and quick as the lightening hit me, only it wasn’t the lightning. I don’t remember what happened after that; I only remember waking up in the hospital. I’ll just say this, I do remember what it felt like to be hit with by the car. A sharp, aggressive impact hurling me into the air. Rock beats scissors. Thinking back on it also makes me think of Brooke, the undeniable power.
Some balding doctor told me no bones were broken, that I was just knocked out. The woman who was driving the car had driven me to the hospital and she was waiting for me to wake up to apologize. She was afraid she killed me. The last thing the doctor said was that he wanted me to stay overnight, after a checkup in the morning, I’d be free to go home.
A long minute after the doctor left, the woman who hit me with her car walked in, followed by her daughter. That was when I first met Brooke. To think how small she looked in the doorway. She was leaning against the frame of the door, staring at me. No expression on her face, except maybe a slight pout. But her eyes were grave and fixed upon me, never blinking. She never blinked.
Her mother was short as well, and her hair was unkempt. She was clearly the nervous type, right down to the hysterical and rapid shaking of her hands, and the endearing shiver in her voice. "God, Mister, I’m so damn sorry. I just wasn’t paying attention, I wasn’t. Are you okay? I was going to buy you something down at the gift shop to say I’m sorry with, but I don’t have any money. But I am very sorry. I’m so sorry. I thought I’d killed you. Please don’t sue. I’ll make you dinner for a week; I can cook well, like a professional. This is my daughter Brooke, I’m Becky, she was in the car when we hit you. I was driving her home from a friend’s house, and it was so dark, and I didn’t see you. I nearly had a heart attack when we hit you. But Brooke told me what I should do. She’s so smart."
Still not blinking.
"I’d never sue someone for something that wasn’t their fault," I assured her. "It was an accident."
"Accident, yes," she repeated.
Brooke then took a few short strides and approached me lying on the bed. Up close her face was authoritative and serious. She was remarkably beautiful, but just looking at her I couldn’t help but feel a cold shiver run up my body and the lightheaded dizziness return. Her shapely lips whispered to me, "Daniel." It was her voice I had followed blindly into the street, I was sure of it.
"Well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some rest, please," I said. Over and over again I kept thinking in my head, God, get this girl away from me.
"Yes, let’s leave," the mother said.
The last thing Brooke said to me, staring at me like I was inanimate, just an unfeeling object, was, "Goodbye Daniel. Don’t be afraid." Her mouth cracked a smile, and she turned swiftly on her heel and shot like a bullet out the door. Her mother, still pitifully apologetic, hunched backwards out the door, waving me farewell.
I prepared myself for my night in the hospital. It had stopped raining. My room was very dark, and I was still afraid.
"Don’t be afraid."
I know my mind was full of a hundred different thoughts, each staying off the relief of a good night’s sleep. I had this horrifying fear of hearing that disembodied girly call of my name again, here in my room. I was drunk, maybe hearing things. We all have moments when life seems unreal, some kind of fantasy. But still, I was afraid.
"Don’t be afraid."
I think I had fallen asleep, but was soon woken up with a start and in a cold sweat. Like I had awakened from a nightmare I couldn’t remember. I wasn’t able to tell what time it was, but I could sense it was still late at night. It must have been April 20th, my birthday. "Please, don’t be afraid." Oh Jesus, there it was! I heard it, the voice. "Please Daniel, I hate it if they’re afraid when I do it." I tried summoning the nurse, but the button didn’t work. I froze; there was a ghost in the room with me.
No, she wasn’t really a ghost. But in the shadow of the room and with the paleness of her skin, Brooke seemed otherworldly.
"It’s Brooke, right?" I said to her. "Listen, what are you doing here? Where’s your mother? You guys have apologized enough already. If you don’t mind, I’d just like to forget the whole thing happened. All right? Please let me go back to sleep."
"Please Daniel, I can already tell your frightened. I have such bad memories of the others being frightened. This is my least favorite part of the whole thing." Brooke seemed genuinely concerned, her eyebrows were expensively anxious, and I may have gotten a sense that there were tears welling up in her eyes. She was nervous, so very nervous. "I never learned what the first one’s name was, I just called him Huggy. I was five years old and when I did it to him, he screamed so much, I still remember. I was never very gentle with him, and I did things with him I never did with the others. I was only five." She paused, put her hand to her mouth. She was definitely crying. "He slit his throat with a cooking knife my mother dropped on the floor. The next one was Abigail, oh my sweet Abby Baby. I was nine. When I did it to her she made such a terrible sound. Even though after a while her and I were like best friends. But I sometimes found her crying at night in the dollhouse. I got mad at her one day for trying to escape me and I lost my temper. I didn’t mean to kill her." Brooke took another moment to sob.
"Nurse," I whimpered.
"And then there was Adam. He was in the military, so you’d think he’d be stronger. I remember him telling me some combat stories late at night in my bed. I was thirteen." She stopped, and chuckled. "He was my first."
"Please get the fuck out of my room."
"All of them screamed in such a horrible way. Please promise me you won’t scream, Daniel. They stay with me, you know. I remember them all so clearly. Oh Adam, the cat was supposed to be in the garage. I’m sorry. I’m sorry."
Not that I took anything she said seriously, though my heart was pounding, I planned to just make a run for it. I could have walked, but my instincts screamed, run.
To this day, the only thing that gives me any comfort is that Brooke must remember my scream. She must. Because, boy, I screamed like nothing I had ever heard before. My jaw almost came off. I like to dream that it keeps her up at night.
It started simple, if not weird. Brooke pounced at me as I got up and she wrapped her arms around me. The silly girl was hugging me. "Hey," I said, "Get off!" Her tears dampened the hospital pajamas I was wearing. She was crying so much it was terrifying. I grabbed her arms and tried to pry her off. She wouldn’t let go. It was actually a brilliant method, I think. Any twenty-five year old man would be able to overpower a teenage girl and stop her from hugging him. But the smaller he got, the stronger she would become, and then there’d be nothing left for him to do.
It really didn’t sink in till my feet were lifted off the ground and I realized Brooke’s head was getting closer and closer to mine. The swell of her breasts grew to cushion my entire torso. Second by second, the hold of her arms intensified in strength and size and imprisoned me against the once-little girl.
Why didn’t anyone hear me? I really did scream.
-----
Dear Diary,
The new one’s here! His name is Danny. He’s really cute. I think maybe if I didn’t collect him he might have been an actor or male model one day.
As expected, he doesn’t like the dollhouse. I learned from Adam that after such a traumatizing event, people don’t like to be alone. So I’m going to let my baby sleep with me tonight, but in a glass jar with holes in the lid so I don’t squish him.
He hasn’t said anything about himself. But he should start talking in a few days. I showed him a picture I had of Adam, the one where I taped him to the swing in the park and pushed him. It was a funny story because some other kids started playing in the park and in order to hide Adam I had to sit on him gently, so I didn’t hurt him. Almost a whole hour went by before the kids left. I was so worried about him the entire time, if I wasn’t sitting too hard. Adam always was strong. I promised Dan I wouldn’t do anything like that to him. But I don’t know, having a new one is so exciting! I want to try all the old things I did with the others.
Otherwise, my birthday this year was ordinary.
You know, I miss having my own tiny toy person. It’s been a long time. I really hope he lasts.
Anyway, I have to make arrangements for Dan. This was all so unexpected. I thought another birthday was going to go by without having met anybody who shares my birthday. This was a miracle in a way. Someone truly is watching over me.
Just like now it’s my job to watch over Dan.
-----
"Dammit, Crackley!"
"No no no, here me out on this one chief. A few days ago, some kid named Daniel McCready goes missing on his birthday, April the 20th. I think the infamous 420 killer is at it again. Now we need every man on this, maybe we should call the FBI. We can’t let him get away with it this time!"
"The 420 killer is your theory, and a flimsy one at that. All those people who went missing on April 20th had no possible relation to eachother other than that day, and none of them were ever found, so we can’t just say they were all killed, much less by the same person."
"Chief, you’re gonna regret this!"
"Simpson is working on the robbery last night, I want you to work with him. Focus, Crackley. There are real crimes out there that deserve our immediate attention. Don’t go chasing crazy-ass theories!"
Once again, the ever eager Detective Crackley had been beaten down by the man. Well, he wasn’t going to let some bigoted loudmouth endanger the lives of everyone with the birthday April 20th. He was gonna solve this thing. If God had put him on this Earth for one reason, it was to stop this vicious serial killer.
Back at his desk, Crackley practiced how he’d give the interviews to reporters when he became world famous for catching the 420 killer. "Sorry ma’am, you’re very pretty, but I’m married. I don’t tell her about it? Well, since you put it that way…."
That’s when his phone rang.
"Detective Walter Crackley speaking, how may I help you?"
"Hi, hon."
"Oh! My wife who I love and would never think of being unfaithful to, how are you?"
"The craziest thing happened on Wednesday. I was driving Brooke from the Cunningham’s when we hit this complete idiot who was blind drunk. He stammered into the street just as we drove by, he was practically aiming for us. If I didn’t drive the lowlife to the hospital straight away he’d have died!"
"Wow, that’s crazy. Listen honey, I’m glad you called. I don’t want to upset you, but the 420 killer has come out of retirement."
"Oh no, we’ve dreaded this day for so long!"
"For so long!" he emphasized. "I need you to make sure Brooke’s kept safe. I won’t let this maniac take my daughter from me."
Crackley hung up the phone. His daughter was born on April 20th; he had to protect her. He could just imagine the 420 killer laughing over the remains of his latest victim, planning his next escapades. Detective Crackley stared out the window of his office intensely and said, "Alright 420, I’m ready. Let the games begin."
He then started humming dramatic movie music as he imagined the scene fading to black.
-----
I heard the thunder speak again.
"Oh Danny Boy, you’ve been so good. Haven’t cried one bit all day. Just for that, you’re getting a big reward."
Out of the sky came a grand monument, which caused a resounding boom when it landed. Funny, that looks just like a little girl’s hand, I thought to myself, a little girl who’s completely harmless and could never hurt a guy like me in a million years. But why is it so big? There was a surge of great fear in me as I remembered when the thunder had said to me, "Dan, you get in my hand right now or I’m putting you back in the fridge! You don’t want to go back in the fridge, do you?" No, I didn’t want to go back in the fridge; it was so cold, so cold and dark and lonely. I was a good boy, and I climbed into Brooke’s palm.
The hand started elevating and I bid farewell to the ground as I flew into the vast space of Brooke’s bedroom. I was so high up. Hey, I can see my dollhouse from here.
The thunder spoke again, "Danny, for being such a good boy, mommy’s going to give you a kiss."
But my mommy’s dead.
Suddenly in my vision there raced towards me the image of Brooke’s giant face, eyes closed and enormous lips puckered. Oh God! Jump off her hand! No, don’t jump off her hand! Then, those giant girl lips encased me, pinned me to the palm of her hand, and Brooke was kissing my entire puny little man body. What a nightmare, it then dawned on me that a little girl had made a possession of me. This was who I was now, a toy. And it was in that moment, with the warmth and softness of the lips and the feeling of safety I had underneath them, turned me towards my animalistic inhibition. You have such beautiful lips, Brooke. The erection pierced between my two captors, and I began thrusting, thrusting until I touched the hard surface that was her teeth. I felt the lips reform into a bashful smirk, as she must have then perceived what I was doing. I didn’t stop. I kissed so passionately the other half of her lips, forgetting horror, and knowing only lust.
And I still remember how small she had looked in the hospital doorway.
Her giggling shook me entirely. She pursed her limps around me, tenderly smothering my erection. There was a build up of erotic fear and then a build up of something that I fired against her teeth. I exhaled a sigh of an utmost orgasm.
I lay exhausted on the palm of a teenaged colossus and she peered down at me. I could tell she was still smiling
Then I heard the thunder speak.
"From now on, I’m going to call you Toothpick."
Dear Diary,
In just ten days it will be my birthday. It’s been an interesting ride. That’s one whole year since I got Toothpick! We’ve both had our ups and downs, but finally I can say he’s the perfect little playmate.
Daddy’s in the deep jungles of Africa, falling in love with a Hungarian scientist, being chased by the natives, trying to unlock the mystery of the 420 killer. He never fails to make me laugh. But before he left he said to me, "Now Brooke, in a short while you’re going to be a full grown woman, and I think now your ready for this responsibility." He gave me a freaking gun! So I can "protect myself" if the 420 killer comes after me. He wants me to sleep with it under my pillow. I suppose I’ll indulge him that. When I don’t pity him, I find myself respecting him for his commitment to protect me.
-----
She now sleeps with a gun underneath her pillow.
One long year. One very long year. Sometimes I think this is all one horrible nightmare, and that I’ll wake up tomorrow and I’ll be me again. Or maybe I committed some horrible crime, died, and now I’m in Hell. One year, my God.
I hate God. He never saved me, no matter how hard I prayed.
I think about the others that came before me; sometimes I pretend to talk to them. I’ve got no one else to talk to. I’m so lonely. Brooke’s the only human being I’ve spoken to since I shrank, and all she says to me is how cute she thinks I am.
First there was Huggy. Brooke said he was some fat guy in a business suit, maybe he was the president of a large corporation. She hugged him and he shrank into her arms. "A new dolly," she thought. The monster, that’s what I call her sometimes, never went into detail on what she subjected that poor man to. She was five years old. Some five-year-olds pull the heads off their dolls. She couldn’t understand that he was human, a life, someone who could feel pain. What did that poor man suffer?
He killed himself. I’ve tried the same. My first attempt was climbing to the top of my dollhouse and jumping off. I only broke my leg, and Brooke didn’t know. So when she grabbed me off the floor and burst my eardrums saying that I was supposed to stay locked in the dollhouse when she was out, she didn’t know her enormous hand wrapped around my body agonized me in such a terrible way. It was even worse when she administered my punishment. Six days going to school with her in her underwear. Math class was the worst, she always spoke of how she found her math teacher cute, and the mix of the moisture and heat nearly cooked me alive every day. My leg never did properly heal.
My second attempt was trying to drown myself in the toilet. But no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t climb it. Immediately I began crying as I heard the ground shiver as I knew Brooke was approaching, but it wasn’t her. Deafening boom followed deafening boom until the bathroom door opened and it was her mother in a blood-red bathrobe. Her bare feet pounded and pounded before me as she prepared to take a shower.
I smiled thinking that maybe I could get her to step on me. Then it would all be over with. But instead I screamed, "Help! Please, I beg you! Please! Help me!" But those great feet never heard me.
The bathrobe dropped and I was swept back by the gust of wind. Brooke’s mother loomed over me, gloriously naked. I can’t possible describe how terrified I was seeing a giant naked woman. Nudity always held the sense of vulnerability in the mind, but when a person looks over a hundred feet tall; their nudity only makes you feel so incredibly insignificant. And I was.
A boom came as one of her feet stepped right before me. "What on Earth is that?" the thunder said as the naked giant peered down at me.
"Please help," I murmured.
The giant foot was raised and her big toe approached. It nudged me, trying to figure out what I was, and instinctively I curled up in a ball, scared.
Was it funny? Before she had hit me with her car, and now she’s tapping me with her toe, which is now bigger than her car was. Hilarious.
"Oh my, it’s a little man," she gasped, putting her hand to her mouth.
I was saved! I jumped to my feet. "Yes, please help! I’ve been in your daughter’s bedroom for two months, and she’s been torturing me. Please, call the police, I want to see my friends and family again. I want to see Victoria!"
"Damn these hallucinations," the mother scoffed.
Later I would learn that the monster’s mother suffered from a condition known as Peduncular Hallucinosis. Sometime she saw things that simply weren’t there. I’m the luckiest guy in the world, aren’t I?
"That’s what I get for not taking my medication this morning," she said shaking her head.
"No! No! I’m not a hallucination, please! This is real. I’m real!"
The thunder laughed. "That’s what they all say." She then realized her hallucination could see her naked. Her hands covered herself, "What a filthy hallucination you are, too. What’s that Ducky Einstein? I ought to teach him a lesson? Step on him?"
"No! Oh God! No! I’m a real person, please don’t! Please!"
She bent down and her face filled my field of vision. "Don’t be ridiculous, I’m not about to let a duck tell me what to do." She smiled. "You’re really cute. I wish you were taller, you know. Some of my other hallucinations have been fun to get to know." A hand took me, lifted me into the air. I saw the world’s biggest smile say to me, "Before you disappear, I want you to come in the shower with me. My husband’s in France, with a little Chinese orphan, negotiating with the Parisian Mafia trying to find leads on the whereabouts of a notorious serial killer, and I get lonely sometimes."
Later that evening I wandered back to Brooke’s room; soaked in more than just water. I never made a third suicide attempt. My spirits were crushed. I saw no hope, even in death.
Brooke discovered me out of my dollhouse again. Twelve days in her underwear.
For months Brooke and I were thick as thieves. Sexual favours were commonplace. Sometimes she couldn’t help but abuse her power. I was numb, somewhere in my mind I had lost myself. I was no longer a man. In order to survive in this Hell my conscience had refitted my personality to a subservient state. I was no longer Daniel, I was Toothpick.
But some fire returned in me the first time I saw her gun. She sleeps with it under her pillow, eh? I could never kill myself with it, but that wasn’t what inspired me. My purpose was clear. While the monster slept, with whatever strength that was left in me, I would crawl to the head of Brooke’s bed, position the gun, and blow her brains out.
April 19th, 1962, the day before my 26th birthday.
In the hush of the night’s air, the monster was preparing for sleep. "Tomorrow Toothpick, can you believe it?" She put on her sleeping attire, kissed me goodnight, and crawled in between her sheets. She was just so fucking happy. I looked down at my hands, was I really going to kill a little girl?
I couldn’t help but chuckle at the question. This was certainly not a little girl.
I could feel deep down within me my very soul dance with excitement. It knew my day of revenge had come. Toothpick’s revenge. It would be glorious.
Shadow now, and only shadow. My eyes peered into the darkness. Out of the window in my dollhouse I saw what appeared to be a stretch of polka-dotted mountains. It was the monster fast asleep. First things first, get out of the dollhouse.
"This is for you, Huggy," I said aloud. "Sic semper tyrannis."
I imagined Huggy there with me, assuring me that what I was about to do wasn't insane or evil. "Be brave, Daniel," Huggy answered back.
"Avenge me!" shouted Abigail.
"Shh! Abby, be quiet. You’ll wake her," Adam whispered.
"Yes, very smart Adam," I spoke to my invisible companions. "Tonight a great evil will be snuffed out, and all your souls will rest in peace."
My cold, murderous hands grabbed one of the plastic chairs in the kitchen of the dollhouse. I fiercely slammed it against the window.
"Shh!" Adam reminded me.
Once again I bashed the chair against the window.
"Shh! For God’s sake."
Just one more crash against the window and the clear plastic tile popped out. I could feel the chill of the free air outside. I spread my arms out and breathed liberty. My eyes opened, I saw the monster patiently pulse with her breath. "I wrote this poem for you Brooke…
Roses are red, So is blood,
Violets are blue, So are cold dead corpses.
And Toothpicks are sharp,
And should not be played with by little children."
The sheets of her bed were easy enough to climb, and it only took me a few minutes to reach her pillow. At that instant I paused, gazed up at the giant’s sleeping head, and truly marveled it. Was a part of me falling in love with depending on you? You always told me how much you loved me.
But that thought just made me more willing to kill her than ever.
Tonight you die.
I look over at Brooke’s alarm clock far in the distance.
12:00am
Happy Birthday Daniel. Happy Birthday Brooke.
I crawl under her pillow and find my metal friend. I yank and heave at the gun for what feels like hours. Brooke repositions herself, putting her weight on the gun and I can’t budge it an inch.
3:55am
Brooke moves again, and I’m able to get the gun out from under her pillow.
4:32am
Nearly out of breath, I prop the gun against Brooke’s right cheek. I kick it until it’s pointing right where I need it to be. I crawl into the trigger, press my back against it then put my legs up on the other side. Goodbye you monster.
-----
"Detective Crackley, how does it feel to be the hero who captured the infamous 420 killer?" the reported asked while shoving a bulbous microphone into the detective’s face.
"I’m no hero," he said. "The 420 killer was bound to screw up at some point or another. His biggest mistake was thinking he could enter my home, shoot my daughter in her sleep, and get away with it. Luckily my wife was there to hit the killer over the head with a baseball bat, and call the police."
The detective’s wife was standing right next to him and spoke into the microphone, "Ducky Einstein and I hope the court sentences this horrible man to one billion years in prison!"
Crackley tenderly put his hands on her shoulders, "Thank you, Dear, that’s enough."
The court showed no pity in sentencing Daniel McCready. The plea for insanity was overruled by the judge. But his defense certainly was the product of a sick mind. He claimed the victim had shrunken him, and treated him like a mere toy. Once he managed to shoot her, the spell was broken and he found himself returned to his normal height.
Daniel was sentenced to life imprisonment. He still kept his nickname Toothpick. Every night before his birthday he still heard someone call, far in the distance, in a girlish whisper, "Daniel."
THE END