dollhouse

I got really down yesterday and thought about writing this today. This got really dark really fast.

mentions of child abuse and (underage) drug use.

Hey, girl, open the walls, play with your dolls
We'll be a perfect family.
When you walk away is when we really play
You don't hear me when I say,
"Mom, please wake up.
Dad's with a slut, and your son is smoking cannabis."
No one ever listens, this wallpaper glistens
Don't let them see what goes down in the kitchen. - Dollhouse (Melanie Martinez)

–

Lillie ran her hands over the warm water and washed them, quietly admiring how soft the soap was against her fingers. It smelled good, too. Roses. Mother always had good taste in what was beautiful and pure. Gladion preferred washing his hands with bar soap or hand sanitizer (didn't it burn since he always had cuts on his hands?), but Mother thought those were inefficient. Every time she saw Gladion trying to wash his hands with bar soap, she'd throw it out and run his hands over with hot water

He used to cry out in pain, but lately he'd grown quieter and quieter.

She lathered on the soap a little longer than was necessary, then rinsed her hands and dried them under the air dryer. It was still too noisy and she didn't like it too much, but Mother didn't want them wasting paper towels or hand towels for their dirty hands, either. Too wasteful. Every time she used it, her hands felt like they were gonna be blown away from her wrists, but Mother knew best. Mother used to be in fashion magazines, and she was smart, and even now she had such pale, beautiful hands, perfect for playing the piano or baking cookies late at night.

Although lately she hadn't been doing either.

Frowning, she shuffled off from the stool. Being eight, she didn't know a lot that was going on with the adults, but she had that sinking feeling that things weren't supposed to be like this. Mother was angry more, and often Wicke tucked her in at night instead of her, and there was always that nasty smell of alcohol wafting around Mother whenever she brushed her hair. And Gladion was angrier, too. He was always quiet, but he never looked at Mother or Miss Wicke with kind eyes anymore.

And then he pierced his ear.

Mother said little boys shouldn't pierce their ears. Mother said that it would've been okay if he was still a girl, but he was a boy now, so he couldn't pretend to be a girl anymore. It was bad as it was that he was pretending to be a boy. (Lillie didn't see a problem with him being her brother, but she couldn't speak against Mother.) Mother yanked the diamond stud out of his ear and then yanked his ear so hard he fell to the floor and he bled, and all she could do was watch and cry until Miss Wicke scooped her up into her arms and carried her out of the room before Mother turned on her.

And then he kept holed up in the attic. Even now.

Darting her eyes back and forth to make sure no one was around, she hugged her satchel close to her as she pulled down the ladder and climbed it. Unlike the rest of Aether, the attic wasn't painted white, only dark paneling and dim lighting. A funny smell made her cough as she walked through towers of boxes and soiled rugs messed up by sick pokemon. This was where all the things that Mother discarded went. They might go into the trash or recycling, maybe not.

Curled up against one of the rugs, surrounded by smoke and holding his Game Boy in the air, was Gladion.

He didn't expect her because when their eyes met he rolled over and immediately put out whatever was making the smoke. They usually wore only white clothes, but tonight he was wearing a tattered, gray shirts and oversized pajama pants. And he was a little stinky. Lillie decided not to comment on his body odor as she pulled him into a hug. "Gladion, you forgot about our tea party today!" she cried, puffing her cheeks.

Gladion looked like he wanted to scowl, but all he did was shake his head and gave a thin smile. "Aren't you getting too old for tea parties?"

"Mother likes it when I have tea parties!"

The smile faltered. "Mother likes it when you act like a doll, not when you have tea parties."

There was an awkward silence. Then Gladion pulled away, flopping back down to his rug. He gestured for Lillie to sit next to him, but not wanting to sit on pokemon pee stains, she crouched down across from him. He was stinky, but he was her brother and she still loved him. Even so, his hair was beginning to look like a mop, just like Mother's, and it was all over his face. She placed a hand against his nose and swept some of the hairs behind his ear. "You should get a haircut! I bet you can't even see your video games like that!"

"I put it in a ponytail sometimes. When Mother's not looking. I was thinking of getting an undercut, but she won't let me."

"What was smoking?"

"Weed."

Always the honest brother. Lillie puffed hr cheeks out again and crossed her arms. "Gladion! You're ten years old! And Mother says that drugs are bad! Where'd you even get that?!"

"Don't care. Don't care. Stole it from one of the janitors. It's only one joint."

He rolled onto his side. Lillie nudged his back with her foot. "Gla-di-on! You're always getting into trouble now! Mother's always angry and Miss Wicke is always nervous and I can't keep going on without a playmate, I can't! I tried taking care of the sick pokemon, but they won't let me." She sniffled. "I need you."

More silence, and Lillie instantly felt guilty. She knew she couldn't be too hard on him - everyone was hard enough on him as it was - but she was worried about him. They used to be the perfect family, her and him and Mother and Papa, long, long ago. But Papa was only a blur in her memories, and even Mother's warmth and love was starting to fade away. If Gladion became broken, too, how did she expect to continue being happy?

Her dollhouse was dusty and her tea cups were empty, and she had that feeling that someway, somehow, she was beginning to break, too.

Gladion rolled back over suddenly and tickled her foot, and she almost fell on top of him. Blushing in embarrassment she gently punched him in the arm while he sat up, chuckling bitterly. "It's for my pain," he said finally, sighing.
"The weed. Mother didn't refill my prescription this month. It became unbearable."

The prescription for his chronic pain. He had it ever since he was small, and it only became worse and worse as Mother started shaking him in the nights. Sometimes she heard that it had to do with something called nerve damage. "Why…why didn't you ask Miss Wicke to refill your prescription for you?"

'Do you really think I can go downstairs looking like this? Wicke can't help me."

"I can! I can get your medicine and bring it to you!"

"You're too young. They won't give medicine like that to a little squirt like you."

"Well, I can ask Miss Wicke to refill your prescription for you! I can-"

"Lillie. She can't help. Mother threw out the rest of my pills and the refill information and everything. I'll be fine."

"But you're in pain!"

She didn't want to cry. Not again. But there she was like a stupid, little squirt, bawling her eyes out as snot dripped from her nose. Gladion grabbed a roll of toilet paper and unrolled an excessive amount of toilet paper before giving it to her. Sobbing, she took it gratefully and blew and then leaned against her brother's arm as he pulled her into a half-hug. "Gladion, when did things stop being perfect?"

"…a long time ago. I don't think they ever were perfect."

"I'll fix things one day. I'll make everything better."

"If anyone can do it, it's you."

Later that night she was in the bathtub, scrubbing herself raw of any traces of weed and body odor. If Mother thought something was wrong or something smelled bad, she'd wash her herself, and she'd use the hot water like she did with Gladion. It would make her skin burn and turn red, and then Mother wouldn't be as interested with her because she looked more like a shiny Crabrawler than her cute daughter. For now Mother was still right, and she would stay right until Lillie found a way to start fixing things.

She sat in the bathtub longer than she should've, hunched over her knees, sniffling. Did it really matter? Her heart hurt more than any cleansing Mother could do.

Everything was perfect, yet everything was broken. And she could do nothing.