The Doll walked out of the bathroom after changing into her new uniform and recovering from the embarrassment of Malina and Lila walking on her. She was now ready to face both of them. The two undoubtedly had questions for her given her odd behavior this week. Questions that The Doll wasn't sure she could answer given The Strings influence.
But even if she could tell them, would she?
When she first came to Dreadwood, that answer would have been a resounding yes. She would have told anyone she could about this ailment that seemed to be afflicting her. It wasn't like her loss of magic; this thing could directly impact the safety of the Ashencroft lineage. Telling somebody would have been rational—the quickest way to deal with this problem.
But now…
The Doll wasn't sure who she could trust with anything.
Malina was a royal; she would likely know more about whatever this was than The Doll, yet Cecilia also knew more about this than The Doll, and that almost resulted in The Doll's death. What if Malina held the same suspicions Cecilia did and was less constrained with her natural reaction? Or even if Malina did know nothing, what would stop her from telling somebody else about The Strings and that information getting back to Cecilia?
For all The Doll knew, even if Malina could be trusted, Lila was also here. It seemed like Lila couldn't hurt a fly, but she was also roommates with Cecilia, who had made it clear that if she didn't want The Doll to know she was a pillar, The Doll wouldn't know. What if Lila was also a pillar, and she had simply chosen to remain hidden while Cecilia revealed herself to The Doll? Nobody truly knew how pillars operated outside of the crown; maybe they always worked in pairs of two.
But if she couldn't trust these two, then who could she truly trust at Dreadwood?
Could she trust anybody?
Every member of the faculty that The Doll had met at Dreadwood so far had been strange, to say the least. Madame Octavia was doing something suspicious with the mana zone, and Malina kept on saying that she wasn't a human. The headmaster seemed fascinated with The Doll, and she shuddered at the thought of what he may do if he found out about The Strings. Furthermore all the teachers seemed to have their own issues, and they'd surely report back to the headmaster anyway.
As for the students, with the exception of Lila and Malina, she only really knew one other student, and that was Lukaz. She was sure she could trust Lukaz not to tell anybody, especially if he believed that it could harm The Doll. But he may think it's best to tell Father about this, and if he knew, he might take her out of Dreadwood.
To go back to that cold castle.
The Doll—she didn't want that not yet, at least.
No, that was wrong to think.
She just hadn't even completed a year of her education yet; being pulled out of Dreadwood early would be detrimental to The Doll. It would hinder her ability to properly represent the Ashencroft house, and that would reflect poorly on Father.
Perhaps The Doll was just worrying over nothing, and The Strings was merely some disease she didn't know about. A sickness that could easily be cured if she could somehow find a way to tell somebody about this.
Stop.
Maybe The Doll was just overthinking things in general; she couldn't tell anybody anyway, so why worry about who she could trust? But even so, shouldn't The doll at least figured out a way to tell somebody if she needed to?
Stop.
For all The Doll knew, this was an issue she could solve on her own anyway. She never truly needed anybody at all; she solved most issues alone anyway. Why would The Doll treat this any differently? It was just another in the long line of problems with her life.
STOP!
There were just so many things that The Doll didn't know, but she needed to find a right answer. There was always a right answer; she just needed to find it. There was a way to deal with The Strings, surely, but what was it?
There just had to be a way.
“DOLLIE STOP RIGHT NOW!” A stern voice shouted as hands pressed against The Doll's shoulders. As if being awoken from a sleep, the world around The Doll emerged from a darkness. The Doll hadn't even realized the world around her had been swallowed by this darkness. At the center of her vision was Malina's face with a worried expression on it.
The Doll had been so engrossed in thought she hadn't even realized that she was standing in the doorway to the bathroom still. But why did Malina look so worried? At most she had just stood there for a moment too long, yet this slight pain on top of her head implied otherwise.
Looking down, she saw her gloved hand with a large amount of black hair wrapped around it. At the end of this portion of hair was a piece of white mass that resembled skin. It appeared as though The Doll had pulled out a portion of hair while in thought.
This was the third time in one day she'd lost her composure.
Before coming to Dreadwood The Doll could count on one hand the number of times she'd lost her composure, but now…
She pushed the thought to the back of her mind for now, aware that she needed to address the worried princess before her. Looking up, she just decided to tell this small truth: “I apologize; I found myself lost in thought.” She then disposed of the piece of hair in the trash that was fortunately next to her before adjusting her hair in such a way it would hide the negligible loss.
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This answer, however, didn't seem to satisfy Malina, who only tightened her grip on The Doll’s shoulders. "Don't lie to me again.” She said quietly, nearly inaudibly.
I find she has no right to worry about that.
The Doll didn't struggle; she figured it would be easier to talk Malina down rather than fight against her. But the gall of Malina to worry about her when she herself had pulled out The Dolls hair not too long ago. "I'm not lying, Malina; I was in deep thought and hadn't even noticed.” The Doll said with a stern tone to her voice that she hadn't remembered using.
This only seemed to make Malina angrier as she tightened her grip and looked down. “Half truths are still lies, Dollie.” Her voice still held that silent, soft tone.
Why should she worry about me?
Malina continued to speak, “Why do I find you staring off in deep thought so much when your attention should be on me?” Her voice got louder the more she spoke, approaching a more normal level now.
I find she has been the source of all my problems since coming to Dreadwood.
With The Dolls lack of response, Malina spoke again. “Why do I find you passing out and writhing in pain more than anyone should?" Her voice continued to rise, becoming louder now.
Yet you dare to raise your voice at me.
Malina spoke again, her gaze still not leaving the ground, “Why do you act like everything's fine when it's not? What's wrong with you, Dollie? I don't like being lied to.” With every question her voice only continued to rise, “SO WHY DO YOU LIE TO ME?” She said, her voice rising to the level of a shout that echoed against The Dolls’ ears.
BECAUSE THEY HAVE NO RIGHT.
Both of them they have no right; they don't understand. It's been a week, and they still don't understand. Especially her, they sit there, and they continue to poke and prod with their words as if they could ever hope to understand me.
Who could hope to understand me?
Nobody could ever hope to understand me but myself.
Yet despite that simple fact, this parasite who latches onto me as if I am her property insists on raising her voice at me. I should aim righteous anger at her.
I should scream.
I should let it all out.
I should do what I truly want to release my inhibitions.
The Doll focused her gaze on Malina, "fully intent on shouting at her—no, screaming at her. She truly had no right to get angry at her. If she wanted to get angry The Doll would show her anger true anger.
The Doll opened her mouth to yell only to feel a drop of water splash against her face as Malina rapidly moved her head to look at The Doll. It took The Doll a moment to fully register what she was seeing.
Malina was crying.
Tears of sadness streamed down Malina's face, shed because of The Doll. The fists that The Doll had unknowingly clenched up released themselves as she simply stood there unsure of what to do next.
Malina spoke through the crying, “I can't lose you. I can't lose another one.” Her voice had dropped back down to that soft, vulnerable tone. Even her grip felt soft, as if the slightest movement could break what once held on so tightly.
After a moment, Lila walked over and put Malina in a hug, allowing her to freely cry into her uniform before looking The Doll in the eyes. “W-We are just worried about you.” Though she didn't cry, The Doll couldn't help but notice the distinct sadness in her voice.
She had thought of them with such suspicion earlier, but they still felt worried for her own well-being. Worry enough to shed tears over a doll such as her.
Perhaps her suspicion had been misplaced.
If there was anyone she could trust, then it would be the first who would shed tears over her well-being. The first to shed tears over her well-being in such a long time.
But how? How could she tell them about The Strings if The Strings so adamantly stopped her every time she went to speak about it? She stood there for a moment thinking of a way to bypass a creature that could seemingly read her thoughts.
Then she remembered her discussion with Cecilia back in the library. The two had passed notes back and forth seemingly because a library was a place for silence. Yet what if there was another reason?
Back then Cecilia told her that she needed to deny the existence of beasts if she could see them. Yet back in the library, Cecilia acknowledged the beasts over quill and paper with no repercussions.
Perhaps there was something about writing that beasts couldn't decipher.
While The Doll was unsure if The Strings was a beast, the similarities between the two creatures were undeniable. Maybe The Strings also couldn't read what was written on quill and paper.
No, no, she had to believe that this would work; she had to be certain. It was the only thing she could think of, the only way to gain some semblance of control back from this being that claimed to be her. That attempted to control her life.
Looking up at the two, she finally said, “Go sit on the bed. I need a quill and paper.” Malina kept crying while Lila wordlessly nodded, guiding her to the bed where the two would sit surrounded by stuffed animals.
The Doll walked over to Malina's desk, pushing aside the mess of crumpled-up papers and discarded books to make a space where she could write. Grabbing a piece of blank paper that looked as though it could still be used and a quill that had seemingly never been touched, simply lying in the wet ink.
She hovered over this paper for a moment thinking of what she should write, allowing drops of ink to fall onto the page. Slowly and tentatively, she brought her shaking hand to the page, feeling the pressure of the quill against the desk as she began to write.
The Strings didn't stop her.
She wrote some more; eventually she stopped even thinking about what she would write, merely spilling out words onto the page. Everything about The Strings came out onto that piece of paper.
How it controlled her.
How it spoke to her.
How it stopped her from speaking about it.
Everything, every feeling she felt, every truth she had kept hidden about it. It had only truly affected her for three days, yet there was so much to tell. So much that she had kept hidden.
Before even realizing it, she had filled up the page completely.
There was still so much she wanted to tell them about, so much she wanted to get off her chest, but this would do for now. Standing up, she grabbed the page and slowly walked over to the two, hesitation in every step.
Yet despite that hesitation, she felt strangely resolute.
When she reached the bed, she sat down and handed the two the piece of paper without a word. They both read the paper in complete silence. She was sure their expressions were changing, but she couldn't bring herself to look up from the bed.
Eventually, after a moment that felt like an eternity The Doll felt a tight pressure press against her body and then another. She looked up and found her face between the both of their heads as they tightly pressed themselves against her in a hug.
In this moment the action felt so comforting.
Without saying a word, The Doll reached up and returned the hug.
The three of them sat there on that bed filled with stuffed animals for hours hugging each other.
Not a word needed to be said.
Not a word could be said.