Chapter Seven - Succumbed
Awakened in her dream, Belinda sensed something different. She struggled to breathe the thick air around her; her body felt heavier, denser. Most dreams would begin with a bluer sky, but the clouds had already made it darker. A storm was nearby.
Belinda walked across the valley, looking for Pin.
She followed a muddy path, her knees splashed with dirt.
Her dreams were so different now that she wondered what had changed.
“Has she upset Pin?” Her thoughts clouded her mind.
Everything looked scarier now; she thought of turning back.
She looked in every direction for a sign of her doll and their picnic site, but she could barely see around the shadows of shrubs and trees.
Exhausted, she began to run. “Where are you?” she cried.
“I am here,” a voice said.
Belinda didn’t recognize the voice.
“Over here!” the voice repeated, followed by a malevolent giggle.
After walking what seemed to be forever, Belinda found their picnic site. Pin had been waiting for her, sitting down with a straight back and perfect hair that waved at the ends. A kettle rested on the red quilted blanket, with freshly brewed chamomile tea beside it; the air smelled sweet.
“I’ve been waiting for you, B-” Pin said.
Pin speaking again in this new dream was strange. A doll’s voice after eighteen years can shake anyone’s mental state. Still, Belinda was happy to hear Pin, fleshing out their lifelong friendship.
“How come you never spoke all these years?” Belinda asked
“I never wanted to scare you. You mean the world to me.”
“Why now?”
“Well, I wanted to test your devotion first. After Jenny and Miss Nancy, you’ve proven yourself!” Pin explained.
“I… never wanted to do those things. I don’t know what came over me,” Belinda said.
“Maybe not back then, but you do now. I have waited for eighteen years to be able to talk to you. I believe you are ready.”
“Ready for what?”
Pin took a sip of her hot tea before grabbing the hairbrush sitting next to them. Her hands were glassy and delicate but worn. After getting up, she made her way behind Belinda and began to brush her hair, carefully dividing her silky hair and running the bristles through it in slow strokes.
“It’s almost time for you to meet my creator.”
“Why do I need to meet your maker? My mom never knew who gave you to me,” Belinda said.
“You know, your parents knew my maker. They are the reasons why I am here. You must take care of a few… things. Darkness must answer for its deeds.”
“Will I have to hurt someone else?”
“Not anyone that doesn’t deserve it,” Pin smiled.
“Okay, I am with you.”
“It has been wonderful being with you all this time, B.”
While she sat in front of Pin, the soft bristles of the brush felt good on her head. Belinda closed her eyes in comfort, hands flat on the quilted ground, air still thick and musky. She felt a light crawl across her hand, followed by a sudden, sharp pinch on her skin.
Her eyes snapped open just in time to see a double-tailed black scorpion’s deadly stinger strike twice. A surge of pain shot through her, sharp and relentless. Belinda shook her hand frantically, but not before the scorpion had already stung her in two spots on her hand.
Belinda jumped up, knocking the scorpion off as she panicked and held her throbbing hand. “What am I supposed to do?” she asked.
“Remember, that this is just a dream, darling. The poison might just make you, uhm… Sleepy,” Pin replied.
“Will we meet again?” Belinda asked before falling into a sleeping coma, Pin standing next to her, watching her as she drifted away.
“Of course, my darling girl,” Pin whispered.
Belinda woke up the next day, feeling more alive than ever.
She grabbed her doll and ran to the bathroom to brush her teeth.
The mint toothpaste tasted too spicy for her bitter mouth, so she decided to finish with just water.
The air smelled floral; she couldn’t tell if it was jasmine or honeysuckle.
She never noticed her mother’s wall plug-ins before. While she liked the scent, it made her sneeze. After wiping her snotty nose with the sleeve of her shirt, she quickly made her way downstairs and found her mother making breakfast.
Nervous, she approached the kitchen, looking for any signs of Miss Nancy. At least part of her. Lost in her thoughts, she was jolted back to reality by her mother’s voice.
“Aren’t you going to change into your day clothes?” her mother asked gently.
“Oh. Yes, of course,” Belinda replied, going back upstairs, changing clothes, and returning to the table where she made room and placed a serving plate for Pin.
“Oh honey, don’t you think it’s time to let the doll go? You are eighteen, after all.”
“Why does it matter?” Belinda asked.
“Well, honey. People might think it’s weird. You don’t want people to look at you funny, do you?”
“The only person making things weird here is you, Mom,” Belinda said the word mom with such conviction. Camille forced a smile before turning back to the stove, she quickly sneaked a pill into her mouth.
“Uhm, you should slow down on those. People might think it’s WEIRD,” Belinda said.
With much indignation, Camille dropped the spatula on the hot cooking pan and began to walk away from the kitchen.
“You can finish the pancakes on your own now. I’ll be in my room. I’ve lost my appetite.”
With that, Camille retreated for the rest of the morning. She waited for Antonio most of the day, wanting to discuss their daughter’s odd behavior.
After eating, Belinda put away the breakfast dishes to make room for the severed hands. She knew her mother would hide in her room for the rest of the day; Belinda was not afraid to get caught butchering the hardened limbs.
After being taken out of the bags, both hands lay spread out on the cold countertop. Belinda glided her hands with calculated purpose, her knife shining with the light that reflected from the kitchen window.
She grasped each hand, peeling back the paper-thin skin with care, revealing the old, pale muscles and sinew beneath. The air became stale and still around her as her hands sliced through tendons and ligaments, severing the last remnants that bonded flesh to bone.
She scraped away blood and gnarly tissue before running the fleshy meat under a stream of cold water, bringing it towards her mouth and licking the last bit of blood before it was completely washed away. “Tastes old. Gross,” she thought.
She then cut the rest of the flesh into small, meaty cubes.
The bones were placed back in the bags, ready to be buried under the concrete statue in the yard.
Belinda took out some limes, cilantro, salt, and pepper, and began to marinade the meat in a bowl.
The acid of the lime should help mask some of the flavor after a few hours. Just long enough for dinner time.
A grotesque meal for a pair of unholy parents, a bounty of destruction and rebirth. Or “Maybe they will just shit themselves,” she smiled.
Belinda put the meat back in the fridge, buried the bones, and retreated to her room. She admired some of her old clothes she had outgrown in front of her long door mirror, tried on her jewelry, and touched her body as if she had never seen something like it before.
She could see the lining of her pad through her pants; she hated the obviousness of it.
She always worried someone at school might notice, but she was afraid of what tampons would feel like to her.
Believing the old myth that tampons affect virginity, her asexuality prevented her from exploring her body in the past.
She ran her hands over her small breasts but hated the way they felt; her curiosity ended abruptly, and she flattened her hands down.
Unsure of her unease, she put the jewelry back where it belonged, grabbed her doll, and headed back to her backyard.
She felt a familiar urge she couldn’t quite explain, but she followed her instinct.
Her stomach growled angrily; the pancakes left her feeling empty. She thought of getting something from the fridge, but the mere thought of actual food made her nauseated.
She walked the yard for a while, wondering when Miss Nancy’s body would be found.
She’s only been dead for a few hours; doubt anyone would check on her so soon.
The woman was a recluse, with no one left around or wanting to be around.
She rolled her eyes to the memory of Miss Nancy calling her a “bitch child.”
Belinda made sure to leave a window open before leaving Miss Nancy’s house; she was sure that some wild animals would sneak into her home to feast on her. Who knows, she might be nothing but gnawed bones by now.
The garage door was loud, the signature announcement of her dad coming home.
She watched from outside as Antonio made his way around the house to the kitchen for a glass of water.
All the curtains were open, and she could see how her dad almost went upstairs but quickly changed his mind.
He redirected to their home office, shutting the door behind him.
Belinda also saw her mom making her way down to his office; something seemed to urge her.
While her parents kept busy in the house, Belinda saw a squirrel hurt on the ground.
One of its tiny legs was broken, and it cried out in misery.
Feeding off her energy, Belinda felt animal-like hunger.
The squirrel tried to squirm out of her hands but was too weak to do so.
It dug its teeth into her skin, making her bleed, but she paid no attention to the pain and blood.