z

Young Writers Society


12+ Language

Chapter 2-Dollhouse

by graphiteshimmer


I woke up in a bed that definitely wasn’t mine. This room looks like something I’ve only seen on TV. It was perfect, with carpet soft enough to sleep on and pillows that matched the wallpaper. This must be my room, I thought. I’ve always dreamed of this.

“Come downstairs, Cry Baby, It’s time for school,” a man who must’ve been my father called. I quickly got dressed, a decision not easy to make as there was a huge closet full of clothes waiting for me. Walking downstairs, I noticed all of the family photos that hung on the walls. A mother and father, and a teenage boy, and me. I looked so different from the rest of them, with half-purple half-black hair and a gap in my teeth. They looked normal. Perfect, even. I wondered how I would measure up. These pictures were taken at places I’ve always dreamed of going on, with a perfect family. This was all I’ve ever wanted.

This was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Here, people would love me. I’d have a shoulder to cry on. In fact, there’d be no reason to cry.

At the bottom of the stairs, my father and brother were waiting for me. The boy looked like he wished he could be anywhere but here. I tried to ignore the mother asleep on the couch with an empty bottle of liquor on the coffee table.

“Are you all ready?” Dad asked. He then led the way out of the front door and to a clean shiny silver minivan parked in the driveway. The yard was clipped perfectly, and the whole house looked new. It was like a dollhouse.

I climbed in the backseat while my brother sat up in the front. He sniffed the air suspiciously, then glanced out of the window in frustration. It smelled like cheap perfume in here. I wasn’t wearing any. Dad got in the car and started it, careful not to make contact with the boy’s knowing eyes.

Pulling out of the driveway, the car was dead silent until the boy couldn’t wait any longer.

“So where were you last night?” he said accusingly.

“Josh,” Dad said, ignoring the fact that Josh’s eyes were shooting daggers at him. “That is none of your concern.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know this family was none of my concern. I’ll try harder next time.”

“That’s enough, Josh.”

“You were with her last night, weren’t you?” he accused. “You were out with some random slut while I had to take care of Cry Baby because Mom’s too drunk to function.”

“Watch your mouth,” he said sternly. “What kind of example are you setting for your sister?”

“Yeah, you’re one to talk. All she’s learning from you is that men are trash. Stop avoiding the fact that you’re a horrible effing father and you should just leave. Mom wasn’t like this until you had to tear apart this family for a quick thrill. You ruined everything.” Dad opened his mouth to speak, but Josh kept going. “You drag us around, forcing us to act like everything’s okay, then everything changes once we’re alone. You run off with your girlfriends, I run off with my friends, Mom stays home and drinks herself to death, and Cry Baby shuts herself in her room depressed because she deserves better than this. She hasn’t done anything wrong, yet she’s suffering for your mistakes. You don’t have a leg to stand on when it comes to what’s right for her.”

Dad took a deep breath, not wanting to acknowledge the fact that he’s right. “I am the adult. You’re a child. You have no right to judge my life, or to disrespect me like that. I think I know what’s right for her, thank you very much. But I’m not going to argue with you anymore. You’re grounded.”

“I’m already grounded,” Josh argued. “I have nothing to lose.”

“You can lose your attitude.”

“You can lose your affair,” Josh muttered bitterly. This is not what I expected this family to be like. I thought it would be one of those gluten-free, Parent magazine, minivan families where you hug it out and share and drink lots and lots of water. I expected a family whose biggest problem is deciding between polo and tennis.

This family is all kinds of dysfunctional. This is nothing like what I had in mind.

When we arrived at school it was like this whole conversation never happened. We got out of the car and started towards the school together. “Bye, Josh! Bye, Cry Baby! Have a good day at school!” Dad called after us.

“Love you, Dad!” we chorused, with fake enthusiasm. As Dad drove away, Josh started walking around the school, towards the back parking lot.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about it. Just go to your classes. Don’t tell Dad when you see him.”

“Are you skipping? I won’t tell.”

“Yeah, you better not.” Josh got in a car with three other boys. He lit a cigarette and let it dangle out of the window while I stared at him blankly. “Mom and Dad don’t need any more reasons to fight.” Then don’t do this in the first place, I thought.

He puffed and said, “Go to your classes. Don’t tell Dad. Bye, Cry Baby.” I waved as the car drove off. It disappeared in a cloud of smoke. I wish I knew where he was going. I wish he was at school where I’d know he was safe. I wish he would stay away from smoking, and just be a normal, good person. This family just needs hope, and he’s not doing even trying to provide it.

Walking back to school, I wondered what else could go wrong.

🏠 🏠 🏠

I had received a text from Dad saying he couldn’t pick me up today, for me to ride the bus. His car was in the driveway when I got home, so I couldn’t help but wonder why he couldn’t come get me.

I trod up to the front door, not bothering to knock before I pushed open the unlocked door. I unknowingly walked onto a battlefield.

“Well maybe we could afford to if you didn’t waste all our money on alcohol.” I heard Dad complain, frustrated. I assumed he was arguing with Mom, but I didn’t say anything. His voice was coming from the kitchen, so I cautiously closed the door behind me and eavesdropped in the livingroom. They didn’t notice me.

“I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t out all day with a bunch of sluts.” Mom snapped.

“Don’t even try to go there. All you ever do is drink. You’re the reason this family is a trainwreck.” Oh, was she? I wanted to say. I wanted to go in there and join the argument, I wanted to add fuel to the flames. Eventually those flames would burn this house down, and I could escape. We could run off, Mom could find somewhere for us to live, she’d stop drinking. We wouldn’t have to worry about Dad. She’d be sober enough to get a grip on Josh, and she could stop him before he does something he regrets.

“Back off,” I said to Dad, being more assertive than I’ve ever been. “She’s killing herself to cope with pain that you caused. And yet you have the audacity to come home and run your mouth about everyone else’s life. Just get out! There is no problem that this family’s had to face that you haven’t caused. If you want such a problem-free life, get a divorce, move out, and stay with some other woman. You clearly care more about them than you care about us.”

“Please, Cry Baby,” he said, trying to remain calm but I could sense the pain in his voice. Instantly, I regretted my words. I shouldn’t have said anything. “Go to your room, and let me take care of this.”

I obeyed, going upstairs and wishing I had just kept my mouth shut.

I left my room door open, wanting to see how long they argued. It lasted two more minutes, until I could hear Mom coming upstairs. I quickly grabbed a book off the shelf, pretending to read. She didn’t even glance in my direction. She was clutching her bottle of liquor, as if it was the only thing keeping her on earth. I knew how she felt. I was the same way with writing.

There was no problem, nothing that I can’t get through without a pencil and journal. When things like this happened, I just wrote a poem. There wasn’t anything more satisfying than turning a depressing situation into a piece of literary art.

For example, the one I wrote then.

Dollhouse

There are families that seem like they’re perfect

Like the ones they show on TV

But it’s not what it looks on the outside

That image is sure to deceive

Just because there are two parents

Doesn’t mean everything’s all right

They don’t see how my brother suffers

Because my parents fight

Just because we’re well off

Doesn’t mean life is great

Mom spends our money on liquor

Dad spends it on other dates

Two parents and wealth is not enough

To reach perfection with no flaws

A family that’s broken beyond repair

Trying is just a lost cause

We look perfect, happy, and stable

But they’ll never learn the truth

We make our total madhouse

Look civilized and couth

Through our smiles you can’t see

The pain inside our hearts

And though dolllhouses are beautiful

They are sure to fall apart

🏠 🏠 🏠

Later that day, we were on our way to church.

The tension in the car was rampant, as Mom and Dad hadn’t a word to say to each other. It was only two hours since their bitter arguement. I silently pleaded for the radio to be turned on, anything to break the silence. The clock said it took ten minutes, but it felt like centuries. Centuries of having to suffer because of my parents’ failures. It wasn’t fair. Josh was right. Don’t I deserve more than this?

Yet their attitudes changed upon our arrival. Mom had cleaned up nicely, as if she’s never touched a drop of liquor. Dad was holding her hand, standing by her side as a true husband should. It was all fake. The congregation members asked about Josh, to which they responded, “He’s at home sick.”

Josh was more than likely at a friend’s house getting stoned. Clearly they knew this. But this is a family only concerned with looks, not values. As long as they think everything is okay, who cares if it’s really not?

Everyone thinks that we’re perfect. Please don’t let them look through the curtains.

I saw the most interesting thing that night. The man that was calling his wife a bitch only an hour earlier was bowing his head in prayer. The woman that spends her days drunk instead of caring for her children had her hands raised, praising a God they don’t care about any other time. It was all an act. One I was expected to be a part of. I hate myself for being a good girl and helping them deceive everyone with this false image of perfection. I hate myself for doing nothing. I should’ve said something in the car to make them forgive each other. I should’ve poured out the alcohol. I should’ve made Dad stay home last night. I hate myself for all the things I don’t do.

Our house isn’t even real. It’s like an oversized dollhouse. It’s an off-brand flimsy, plastic dollhouse destined to break at any moment. We’re just a bunch of Barbies with painted-on smiles stuck in a never-ending game of pretend. Barbies tend to be loved one day, then when they don’t appeal to young girls’ attention spans they’re broken apart and buried or lost. It was only a matter of time until we were broken apart.

D-O-L-L-H-O-U-S-E, I see things that nobody else sees.*

Is this what living is all about? Will just acting like a saint get you into heaven? What is heaven, anyways? Everyone just imagines angels in white robes sitting on clouds playing harps. Maybe it’s much more personal. Maybe heaven is less of a place and more of a feeling. My heaven, for instance, would be in someone’s arms, knowing they genuinely care about me. Like I’m worth something. That alone would be enough. That would be my heaven.

But I’ll think about heaven at another time. Right now I only have to focus on surviving this dollhouse’s imminent collapse. Right now I’ll focus on rising out of the rubble with minimal scars.

🏠 🏠 🏠

After service, I was so lost in thought I had failed to realize Mom was pulling out of the parking lot while my father was nowhere in sight.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked. Surely she wouldn’t have left him behind.

“Your father decided to get a bus ticket and leave tonight. God knows where he’s going or when he’s coming back. I honestly hope he doesn’t. He’s caused enough problems to last a lifetime.”

Mom then decided to stop at a liquor store and pick up three large bottles of the clear liquid. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t going to end well. 


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118 Reviews


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Fri Sep 08, 2017 1:09 am
PastelSlushie wrote a review...



Hello again, graphiteshimmer, PastelSlushienhere for review 11 for #RevMo ! Let's get right into it, shall we?

The first thing I feel needs to be addressed are the house symbols throughout this chapter. I don't know if they're to represent a symbol for time skip of some sort, but it was very distracting for me.

I can see that this is staying close with the original song, with Cry Baby's looks, her brother doing drugs, her dad cheating, and her mom addicted to alchohol. I like how you stayed true and close with the characters, but I also like how you did a twist with the scenes that weren't shown in the videos. The characters are very diverse with seemingly completely opposite personalities with each other.

I also feel the tension builds up quite a lot between dad and Josh, him knowing what his dad does at night. As Steggy said, it has a stepping on eggshells feeling that the slightest thing can cause a fight to uproar.

But another thing I'd like to point out is the first paragraph, and how confusing it seems. Mainly because when Cry Baby waking up and realizing this room doesn't seem familiar, and then realizing it's her room. Another suggestion would be to put her thoughts that were in the first chapter into italics, to let the reader know that she is thinking something.

Feel free to send me a message if you have any questions or disagree with anything in my review. Best of luck in your future pieces,

Pastel




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Wed Sep 06, 2017 2:18 pm
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Steggy wrote a review...



Hello, Steggy here for a review! I haven't read the previous chapter so if I get anything wrong, let me know!

I only heard of the song Dollhouse once or twice but just from reading over, I can tell that there are some parts that intertwine with what was being said in the song. Also, just from reading, you do a nice job with providing some background to the main character and what her household is like and how it gives off the illusion that everything was perfectly fine but instead, it wasn't. The beginning of this chapter seems a bit awkward mainly because she wakes and realizes the bed isn't her then realizes that it is her room. What I think you're showing here is doesn't remember things quite well. When someone is having a thought, it might be best also to have that thought in italics or something because when the reader is reading this, they could think that their thought belongs with the actual story, if that makes sense.

“Come downstairs, Cry Baby, It’s time for school,” a man who must’ve been my father called.


What I find odd about this sentence is how you worded 'a man who must've been my father'. A simpler way to word this might be like 'a man, who I think is my father, called out.' or something similar to that.

Dad got in the car and started it, careful not to make contact with the boy’s knowing eyes.


I like this sort of suspense that the brother knows where his dad was and you set it up perfectly to where it is assumed that her father went and left their mother to hook up with some other girl. It also gives off that kind of eggshells feeling where a fight could easily break out.

When Cry Baby steps into the fight, you don't mention anything about it. It just happens that she speaks and now she's where they are at. Perhaps you could say she steps into the room and describe the tension she might feel between her parents.

Overall, this was an interesting read because there was a diverse cast of characters and description of the family members within this story. Hopefully, you continue this sort of novel.

If you have any questions, let me know!

Steggy





Books give a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and life to everything
— Plato