6 The longing deepens
I didn’t feel any better, in fact I was more enraged.
My parents, though I knew they’d been lacking my whole life, had just laid it all out in the open that they’d attacked and beat someone almost to the point of death, just because they were jealous of her, and made glib excuses rather than owning their shit.
I stayed home from school, faking that I was sick and locked myself in my room, refusing to come out.
I kept the blinds drawn, feeling more comfortable sitting in the darkness, where the secrets you kept could be revealed and you could forget everything and just be lost in the abyss.
I sat on my bed, the only light coming from my bedside lamp and brushed Bess’ fiery red hair, humming the familiar refrain.
Although it was daytime and I wasn’t asleep, here in the semi darkness, Bess was awake her voice singing along with me.
I won’t show mercy, won’t be kind, as your life I vanquish, you were never kind to me. Pop goes the weasel!
“You are going to have to go back to your life until it’s time,” Bess encouraged.
“I don’t want to. I can’t stand it anymore.
The lies, the fake smiles. I just want to kill them all.
I want to feel what it’s like and not just dream it,” I said, flopping back onto the bed, “but it’s not just getting revenge for Savannah, it’s for me to get my own back on my parents and people who’ve wronged me too.
I feel the anger, betrayal and hurt just like she does. ”
“I know, but you still need to be strong, that’s what we’ve been doing all your life Caspian, making you into the warrior that you were meant to be and need to be,” Bess replied, clambering on to my chest and sitting cross legged.
“What’s going to happen when this is all over? Will you have to leave me?”
“I don’t know. The Dollmaker has never told us.”
“So there are many dolls, not just you?”
“Yes. All have their mission, to bring the guilty to justice.” I sighed.
It was torture not knowing and having this aching need deep within me to kill, but then afterwards, would I be doomed to wander the world alone, haunted by horrific visions and memories or would I be able to break away, get myself a home and go to college like every other normal eighteen-year-old?
Presently, I heard a gentle knock on my door. It was Florian with a tray of my favorite French pastries; all baked from scratch and a pot of chamomile tea. In spite of me ostracizing myself from the world, my belly grumbled in protest. Florian laughed.
“You must eat Caspian. These are fresh out of the oven.” The delicious smell invigorated my nostrils, and my mouth began to water.
“Thank you,” I said, taking the tray from him and padding into my room. He lingered in the doorway, looking concerned that my room was almost in complete darkness and I looked unnaturally dishevelled, distraught and pale.
“You do know you can talk to me don’t you? I know you’ve had a lot to go through, and you’ve got exams coming up and your graduation, but I just wanted you to know that me and all of the staff are here for you, you don’t have to feel alone.”
I turned and smiled at him, feeling a flush of gratitude and then a stab of embarrassment. I could have anything I wanted aside from the love of my real parents. Instead I got pity from the help.
“Thanks for the pastries,” I said, and closed the door in his face.
“He thinks a lot of you,” Bess said, as I sat on the bed offering her some of the pastries. She pulled off a piece and her sharp little teeth ravaged it viciously, “mmm these are good!”
“I guess, but he’s beneath me, a servant.
I will not make the mistake of getting close to people not on my level like I did with Isabella.
In fact, I’m better off on my own. The only person who hasn’t let me down is you Bess,” I said, as I ate, my eyes fluttering at the exquisite taste of the warm goodies.
We demolished the tray and drained the teapot and then we lay in a pleasant food coma on the bed.
“How come I can see you moving when I’m awake?” I asked, feeling full and sleepy.
“Because the power is getting stronger now. The task is almost at its end, and you are nearly the weasel, all on your own, without my help.” We drifted off, and for the first time in a long while, I just let the stress and anger float away and cleared my mind, not thinking of anything, just feeling at peace.
That was, of course, until I started dreaming.
I was walking down Lull Lane, then I crossed Main Street and made my way along the leafy streets to Hawthorne Elementary School.
I could feel that I was wearing the mask, and I wondered where Bess was.
As I reached the school, I noticed that it was home time and little kids were being greeted by their parents or piling onto the yellow school buses that were waiting outside.
I was drawn to one bus in particular and boarded it.
The driver, a tanned, chubby guy with a crew cut and a bushy moustache looked at me with disdain as he put on his aviator sunglasses.
I could hear the wind chime giggling of Bess and made my way down the bus.
“Why do you have a raccoon mask on?” one cherub faced, blonde haired boy asked, his bright blues eyes questioning .
“I’m not a raccoon. I’m a weasel,” I snarled, my voice dripping with intimidation.
The child shrunk back into his seat. The bus was almost full, but I found somewhere to sit near the back.
I could hear the whispers and giggling of curious children and then from under the seat in front of me, out came Bess.
“Isn’t this fun?!” she said excitedly, “our first road trip!”
The bus pulled away from the curb and made its way along the avenue. Bess climbed onto my knee, and a brunette girl with freckles and pigtails in the seat next to me grinned.
“What a pretty dolly! How does she move and talk like that? I want one!”
“She’s a special dolly,” I replied, “she’s my best friend.” Bess smiled showing her horrific teeth, that looked even more frightening than usual. The little girl stopped smiling and turned away frightened.
“This is your final and most brutal test. Hell, I know you’re ready, but I want you to let go of everything and let the anger and bloodthirst take over.
Real soon, you are going to have to do some horrific things, and it may be to people that you once cared about.
So you will have to lose the guilt and the remorse and just go for it,” Bess said, jumping down and dragging out a black sports bag from the seat in front.
I unzipped the bag, and inside where six bottles of vodka, a length of chain with a padlock and a torch lighter.
I could hear static on the drivers radio and Bess began to dance grabbing my leg.
“Watch this!” she said, her voice exuberant. She opened her mouth wide and sat perfectly still, her amber eyes looking like they were flashing with sparks of electricity. The driver’s radio crackled and then a voice spoke.
“Miguel, the road ahead is blocked. You will have to take a detour along Foxglove Drive.” The bus came to a halt, and turned, heading up the hill into the woods. Bess closed her mouth.
“Wasn’t that cool?!” I nodded, impressed at the new talent she’d shown me. I wondered what else she could do, that I hadn’t seen yet.
“What now?” I asked.
“Just wait. A little further down the road and then you will see!” The bus cruised up the hill until we reached the top where you could see a stunning view towards the coast in the direction of dad’s drug den.
Bess went as still as the dead again and her eyes looked like they were burning from within.
The bus stopped dead, and the driver cursed, pumping the gas, but nothing happened.
“Sit tight kids. I have to go and check the engine,” he said, opening the door and going out.
There were groans all round. Everyone wanted to get home and eat.
Some kids got up and began walking up the aisle, hanging over seats and talking to their friends.
I felt a rush of adrenaline, and I stood up, picking up the sports bag, my eyes too feeling like they were aflame.
Bess and I began to sing, and soon the kids calmed down and sat back in their seats like automatons, joining in with us.
Trapped inside, No way to leave, as the flames burn brighter. Kiddie meat, so cooked so lean, pop goes the weasel.
They sang the verse over and over, getting more erratic and frenzied each time.
I smashed the bottles of vodka at regular intervals along the aisle, but the children, in their trance-like state did nothing, they just kept singing.
Bess and I got out of the bus and went to check on the driver, who looked puzzled as he heard the melodic noise from inside the bus.
“Boo!” Bess shouted, startling the driver as I slammed the hood onto his head.
He coughed, projecting blood all over me.
I slammed the hood again and heard a crack as his nose broke.
I kept doing it over and over until he was slumped over the engine bay, his head split open and his features unrecognizable, his brain matter splattered all over the engine and underside of the hood, looking like strawberry Jello.
The singing had reached hysterical levels and Bess skipped to the open door of the bus, cackling like a lunatic.
I walked slowly, yet with purpose and placed my bag on the floor next to the bus, getting out the padlock, chain and torch lighter.
I climbed aboard and secured the chain and padlock around the door lever so that they wouldn’t be able to get out.
I could see the vodka dribbling down the steps of the bus as I exited, and in one swift motion, I lit the flammable liquid, the spark instantaneous. I then closed the door from outside.
Abruptly, the singing stopped as the little bodies were engulfed by flames.
Bess and I stood holding hands as we watched bloody red fists banging on windows and little faces devoid of hair and skin howling to be set free.
But we didn’t set them free. The raging flames reflected in our dead eyes, and I felt nothing.
I awoke, an acrid smell of smoke in my nostrils.
Panicked, I looked around and realized that I wasn’t in my room, but laying in the undergrowth in the woods at the top of Foxglove Drive.
I was no longer wearing the weasel mask.
Bess was next to me, completely still. I craned my neck to look through the trees, and I saw the firefighters crowded around the bus, its carcass still smouldering.
Groups of parents were being restrained behind police barriers, wailing in anguish, desperate to find the remains of their dead children.
I promptly threw up. Bess had tricked me. This hadn’t been a dream.
“Why did you make me do this” I seethed, “this wasn’t what the Dollmaker would have wanted!”
Bess came alive then. “I’m tired of doing what the Dollmaker wants all the time.
Though she created me, I’ve spent my whole existence doing whatever she has asked.
I was thinking about what you said. I don’t know what will happen when all of this is over.
So I wanted to go out with a bang, literally. ”
“But why kill kids. They’re innocent,” I said sadly.
“Because I could never be one,” Bess replied, tears trickling down her cheeks. I picked her up and we made our way through the trees away from the carnage and back home.