Friday 19 August 2011

Gladiators.

Dropped by the neck, stockings torn, shoes missing. A doll, discarded in high tide. Lips set in a small blank smile, eyes seeing everything, no ears required, she never needed them anyway, heart missing and nowhere to be found. Everything is black and grey, it will be quite a while before she washes up somewhere to be found by a strange face or maybe she'll be eaten by a shark.

I listened from outside his office door as he railed on the phone and I listened to the threats he made and the things he promised and I lost my nerve. I couldn't go in. I can't confront someone so unpredictable, driven by unimaginable, deceased loyalties.

Oh, how ironic, you say.

It would be different but you don't hear that because my mouth is sewn closed and I dropped my hand from the knob and backed away slowly, quietly until I could turn and run for the elevator and be away from there, where people are busy and things get done and deals are made that multiply anything the Devil has ever done by ten and it makes me nervous, you see because I am only a doll and I don't really understand this whole concept of how they can traffic the same human multiple times and why I have become the commodity and the collateral damage all at the same time and why isn't anyone else doing anything, and oh, that's right, multiply it all by ten, everyone, keep your heads down and don't rock the boat because it's new and we wouldn't want it to flip but if your favorite, beloved doll falls into the drink, well, that's sometimes what happens when you stand too close to the edge and you look over to see where you're headed instead of watching land shrink behind you.