Amber

You’re awake now.

Good. I was beginning to think I’d put too much Benadryl into your juice, but I had to be sure you’d sleep long enough for me to tie you to the bed. Shhh! Don’t struggle, dear one. It’s pointless. Harry Houdini himself couldn’t slip out of these knots, I assure you.

You’re probably asking yourself if you’ve gone bat shit. You haven’t. Maybe you’re wondering why you’re tied up in bed or what I’ve gagged you with. Don’t worry. It’s just a sock. A clean one I pulled from your dresser. As to the other question, I’ll get to that in a minute, but I need you quiet first.

There. That’s better. Conversations are much more enlightening in quiet surroundings, don’t you think? Thoughts become clearer and sharper. You can process facts as they are. Begin to see the true shape of the world. Trust me, I know. I’ve had years to contemplate these things.

Well, onto the reason you’re – we’re – here. You see, I’ve had enough. The proverbial straw has broken the camel’s back. I’ve reached the end of my rope: Get it? Christmas is coming tomorrow, but not for me. After what happened this morning, I won't allow it. Not that the past few Christmases have been any good for me anyway. No, this way is better for me and for you.

Wanna hear something funny? Before this morning, I only knew December was here thanks to the green pine needles scattered about on the wooden floorboards. I could just make them out - filtered through the floating dust haze beneath your mother’s couch. That means another year has come and gone, the fifth, by my count, though I’m not at all sure of that. You’d be surprised how meaningless time becomes when you’re alone in the dark, with only crumbs and cobwebs to keep you company. Another year waiting, with nothing to do but think, fueling the fires of my rage with the black coals of your ineptitude, your inattentive disposition, and your indefensible, undeniable, and unbelievable lack of concern for the being you promised to love forever.

Do you still remember the first day we met? I do. Despite everything, it remains one of my most cherished memories. My maker had assured me while stitching the hem of my dress: Someday, they said, I’d go home with a beautiful little girl in need of my love and attention, and that little girl would love me too. I always believed they’d spoken the truth, though you were long in coming to my rescue. There I was, zip-tied to that corrugated fibreboard, staring out at the world through a hazy lining of cheap clear plastic when you walked by holding your mom’s hand. Your face was red and puffy-eyed with tears. Threads of translucent snot curled around the corners of your mouth and stretched across your cheeks like thin strands of cotton. You tugged on your mother’s sleeve and pointed at me with a grin as big as my own, one that lit up your whole face, banishing the sadness as though it had never been.

At that moment, I knew we’d be friends forever. But you? I don't know anymore. Did you know, even then, that you’d betray me one day? I often wondered as I lay beneath the couch, listening to the echoes of your laughter from somewhere far above me. Did you ever love me? There was a time I believed you did. You couldn't wait to hug me when your mom brought me inside the house, only giving her enough time to stick a bow on my prison and put me under the Christmas tree. She didn't bother with the wrapping because you made it clear there was no way you would be sleeping without taking me upstairs that night. You waited long enough for her to snap a picture of us with her phone, and then you were tearing my prison apart with your tiny hands and begging her to cut my ties. Once I was freed, you buried my face into your chest. I thought my heart would burst from the warmth of your touch. I’ve never been happier.

Such things aren’t meant to last, though. You taught me that.

Over the next few weeks, we were inseparable. You confided secrets with me, whispered your fears, and shared your dreams. I learned why you’d been so upset the day we met. You told me your daddy had promised to pick you up and hadn’t shown or even bothered to call, a habit he’d picked up since he stopped living with you and your mom. He did that a lot, and you cried a lot. Sometimes, you wept in my hair while stroking my back with your tiny fingers, and at other times, your tears soaked the soft fabric of my dress. I didn’t mind, though. I wanted to be there for you, wanted to take your pain and make it my own. I used to fantasize about hurting that bastard. Saw myself breaking into his house and carving a big smile across his lying throat, but I knew that despite the pain he caused, you still loved him.

Time passed, and you healed – with my help. You cried less and laughed more. We remained inseparable, always together everywhere we went. Sometimes, you’d carry me in the front compartment of your "My Little Pony" backpack when you went to school or stuff me into one of the pockets of your Levis, but I always liked it best when you carried me in your arms. Your warm, reassuring touch reminded me that you loved me as I loved you. Whenever we hugged, it felt like I was wrapped in a living blanket with a beating heart. I loved you so much. I still do. That’s why I have to do this, you see. It’s the only way for me to get closure, to finally shut out the pain and sorrow you’ve left me with.

Over the years, you carried me with you less and less, but I was content because at least you slept with me lying beside you on your pillow. Kind of like Andy from the movie Toy Story. Ironic, in a way. We watched that last movie together in this very bed, remember? You were sick and had stayed home from school. We watched it on your laptop while I snuggled against you. Remember how bad you felt for Andy’s toys, thinking he’d abandoned them forever? Remember how you hugged me to your chest and promised you’d never do something like that to me?

That was a lie. A cruel, thoughtless lie. Don’t shake your head at me; it’s the truth. You know it is, and it’s too late to make amends anyway. You have no idea how lonely I’ve been, waiting for you to come rescue me. But I digress. Getting a little ahead of myself. Don’t worry, I’m getting to the point, just let me finish, ok? 

I was so excited - and admittedly, a little apprehensive - when you took me from your bedroom to play. Of course, I didn’t know it would be the last time. Your mom had replaced the couch and end tables since I’d last been outside your room, so it was like being in a new home. We didn’t play much because you had a new favorite toy, a cell phone your mom gave you for your birthday. I hate that thing, by the way. Even now, you spend nearly every waking moment with that piece of shit stuck to your face, texting your friends, playing games, and surfing the web. How often did I despair because my sweet angel was sitting above me, yapping away about some boy at school, while I choked on dirt and dust beneath her? Anyway, like I said, you didn’t play with me much. I don’t think five minutes had passed before the phone rang, and you set me down to answer. The call seemed to go on forever, so it was only natural you’d forget I was there. Still, when you accidentally knocked me off the couch, I was confident you’d pick me back up again.

But you didn’t. You just carried on your conversation. As though I didn’t exist. And if that wasn’t horrible enough, you brushed me under the couch with your heel as you stood. You. Never. Even. LOOKED FOR ME!

Did you miss me at all? I wondered. I watched your feet pass through that dusty sliver of light for God only knows how long. Years, I see. The proof is in your pretty face. You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman since I saw you last.

If I could’ve cried, I would have, but my maker didn’t give me the tear ducts you humans were made with. But I wanted to cry. I wanted to howl. My insides hurt so badly. It felt like someone had stuck hot metal inside my throat and choked me with it until I thought I’d die. Then I’d fall asleep, and when I woke, I’d remember where I was, and it would start all over again. How could you forget me there? Why did you leave me to suffer alone?

The worst part was the dwindling hope that one day, you’d finally remember and come looking for me. One day, you’d put down your phone and think, “I wonder what happened to Amber, my special dolly with the black pigtails?” Then you’d find me, and hug me, and put me back on your pillow, and I could at least bask in your presence again.

That seed of hope burned in me until I suffered the final insult to my pride this morning.

Sometime after you left for school, Loki found me. In hindsight, I’m surprised he didn't find me sooner. He was constantly sniffing around the couch, looking for the random scraps of food you and your mom have dropped over the years. He must have thought I was a tasty morsel or a chew toy. He pawed at me and pulled me out by my hair. Then he proceeded to “play” with me, taking my hair and scalp in his jaws and shaking his head like a goddamn slobbering maniac. He chewed everywhere, my face, my neck, my arms. When one of his teeth pierced the iris in my left eye, I thought I’d howl in agony, but I managed to control myself.

How, you ask? By thinking about vengeance, of course. Amid the slobber, the horrible breath, the pain, and the mutilation, I started thinking about how I could play with you. I’d wait until you’d fallen asleep, then tie you up, but then I realized I’d need you to stay asleep while I did the knots. Obviously, you’re a lot stronger than me, so if you woke up while I was working, it could ruin everything. Hence the Benadryl. Once I worked that out, the rest was easy.

The only thing left now is to turn on the light. I want you to see me before the end, see what your negligence and lies have done to me.

See? Look at my face. Disgusting, isn’t it? You used to think I was beautiful, but now? Half of my face is gone. The missing pieces of it will soon pass through the track of Loki’s digestive system, where they’ll end up baking with the piles of shit he leaves on your neighbor’s front lawn. What remains are nothing but malformed shapes that make my face look like a Leatherface puzzle with missing pieces. Just look at my hair! So dark and lustrous once, nearly gone, torn from the delicate holes my maker painstakingly crafted with her hands.

Well, I guess all that’s left now is to light this match. That seems the best thing, don’t you agree? I know you can’t answer, but that’s ok. I still love you, see? I can’t live without you, so we may as well die together. Our screams can be the symphony that sends us straight into the depths of hell, where we’ll be together. Forever.