The Broken Doll

Pain flared across Laverna's back, where dried blood marked the areas she couldn't reach with her clothes, a constant reminder of yesterday's brutality. Each movement sent sharp pains from the base to the top of her spine, a relentless assault on her already weary body.

Her muscles spasmed as she lay on the cot, dreading the rising sun and cheerful birdsong that mocked her suffering. She longed for the return of darkness and the escape of sleep, dreaming of a life far from this hell, a life where she wasn't a prisoner of pain and fear.

She touched her face softly, her fingers tracing the tear tracks that had dried on her skin. She was silently crying and blinking back tears that threatened to spill anew.

Hearing the soft click of the door, the sound both familiar and terrifying, she exhaled a shaky breath of resignation.

"I don't want to..."

Her body protested with every fiber of its being as she carefully rose from the cot, avoiding pressure on her stiff back, each movement a renewed agony. Grateful for the cloth she'd torn into strips, a small act of defiance amidst the helplessness, she cleaned them with stored alcohol, the sharp scent stinging her nostrils.

She wrapped her back, ensuring the wounds were fully covered, a makeshift armor against the day's inevitable torments. Though the friction was still uncomfortable, the rough fabric grating against her raw skin, her body healed quickly, a gift and a curse, but it wasn't fast enough to outpace the constant injuries.

With a soft whimper, a sound of vulnerability she tried to suppress, she dressed for the day, struggling to do so alone, her trembling hands fumbling with the simple fastenings. The scratchy fabric of her gown irritated her skin as she pulled it over her hips, a coarse reminder of her servitude.

She put on new undergarments, the worn material offering little comfort, and gingerly brushed the tangles from her hair, her movements slow and deliberate, minimizing the pain in her back. Hearing the door unlock, the sound sending a jolt of fear through her, she quietly opened it a crack.

Her long fox ears strained to catch any sound, a skill honed by years of survival in this treacherous place, discerning the soft breaths of the sleeping family. A soft sigh escaped her as she slipped from the room, her feet padding as quietly as possible on the wood, a shadow moving through the silent manor.

This wasn't the first time a family member had beaten her; young Abigail's punishment had been the worst, a memory that haunted her waking hours and plagued her nightmares. The child, a prodigy with knives, her small hands wielding them with terrifying precision, delighted in poking and prodding to see what would happen.

Suddenly, rough leather restraints, cold and unforgiving, bound Laverna's arms and legs, and a force pulled her down, the unexpectedness of the attack leaving her disoriented and terrified. The brothers easily threw her to the ground, their laughter echoing in the sudden silence, restraining her as they spoke of Abigail's amusement, their words like a death sentence.

Fear, cold and paralyzing, filled Laverna as she watched Abigail run her fingers over Laverna's bare legs, a slow, deliberate caress that promised pain, then giggle softly, a sound that chilled Laverna to the bone. Licking Laverna's cheek, a grotesque parody of affection, she whispered in her ear.

"Mommy said you didn't get out of bed quickly enough. So yesterday, she told me I could have fun today..."

She grinned, a wide, innocent smile that belied the cruelty in her eyes, her fingers digging into Laverna's skin, leaving bruises that would blossom into dark reminders of her torment. Then, grabbing a handful of Laverna's hair, she jerked her head up, forcing Laverna to meet her gaze.

"So fun we will have!"

She spat out small water droplets, hitting Laverna's face, a gesture of utter contempt, as an evil look, ancient and malevolent, washed over her frame, transforming her into a monster.

The boys dragged Laverna to Abigail's 'Fun Room'. Laverna cried, her voice hoarse with terror, begging for mercy, but no one came to her aid.

Her screams only made Abigail giggle and jump with excitement, her body vibrating with anticipation, skipping ahead of the boys with a macabre glee. At the 'Fun Room', Abigail opened the door with a flourish, revealing the horrors within.

The room resembled a surgery, but twisted and corrupted, filled with medical apparatuses like scalpels, syringes, and oxygen tanks, perverted from their intended purpose of life-saving to become instruments of cruel machinations. The boys tossed her onto the surgical table, the cold metal a stark contrast to her burning skin, strapping her limbs tightly to each corner, the leather biting into her flesh.

After that, they left, their footsteps echoing in the silence.

"Have fun, Abigail," Ronald said, his voice devoid of any warmth.

Charles chuckled darkly. "Don't break her too much. We want her to last the week."

Abigail skipped forward, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Oh, I will," she said, her voice a singsong whisper. "This will be the most fun I've had all month!"

As they left, Abigail locked the door, the click of the lock sealing Laverna's fate, and the 'fun' began, with classical music playing on a phonograph, a surreal and disturbing soundtrack to the unfolding torture.

Abigail started by snipping off Laverna's potato sack blouse and undergarments, the fabric falling away to reveal her nakedness, leaving her vulnerable and exposed. Wasting no time, her movements precise and efficient, Abigail took a scalpel, its edge gleaming in the dim light, and began cutting Laverna's skin without anesthesia, the first incision a sharp, burning line across her arm.

Blood slid down Laverna's arms, a crimson tide marking her suffering, as she watched Abigail slice off a deeper chunk of skin, her brow furrowed in concentration. She gently poked the muscle and tendon, her small fingers probing the raw flesh, watching Laverna's arms twitch as another cry escaped, a sound that seemed to both fascinate and amuse her.

Each whimper, cry, or gasp in pain excited the young girl, fueling her sadistic curiosity, who continued poking and prodding Laverna's body, experimenting to see what would happen if she did this and that, her mind a twisted laboratory. The pain intensified within Laverna, each new cut a fresh wave of agony.

Layers of skin were sliced away, peeled back as if she were an animal for butchering, a piece of meat on a cold slab. Laverna watched, her vision blurring with pain and shock, as Abigail jumped onto the table, her frame straddling Laverna's, her blade slicing down Laverna's stomach, causing a blood-curdling scream that echoed in the confines of the room.

"Oh, no-no-no. Shhh..."

Abigail said softly, her voice a soothing counterpoint to the brutality of her actions, watching Laverna's body spasm from the hours of torture, her limbs twitching and jerking uncontrollably. Frowning, as if displeased with the results of an experiment, the young girl shook her head, wagging a bloody finger at Laverna.

"We will continue later. Mommy said I couldn't kill you... yet."

She slipped off the table with childlike grace, her movements fluid and unhurried.

"Ronald, Charles, Gavin! Come get her," she called out, her voice clear and commanding.

With a wave of her hand, she summoned her brothers. The brothers entered, their expressions a mix of boredom and disdain.

"Pick her up," Abigail ordered, pointing at Laverna with her bloodied scalpel. "And take her back to her room."

Gavin lifted Laverna's limp, barely conscious body. The world flickered in and out as she felt herself thrown onto the cold floor of her room. She barely registered the lab gown Abigail tossed at her, the fabric drifting down like a cruel mockery of kindness.

"Here! A gift from me to you for giving me so much fun! Now get moving, pet!"

Laughter echoed down the hall as the siblings walked away, leaving her in a broken heap.

For a long time, she didn't move. Healing took time, and even though her body worked faster than most, it was never fast enough.

The room spun as she curled onto her side, shielding herself from the memories flooding her mind. The Lichtensteins thrived on torment, their cruelty endless.

She could only hope that her suffering had momentarily satisfied them, that they would lose interest until the next time boredom struck.

Painfully, she forced herself to stand. She had no time to recover. Duties awaited, and failure meant worse than what she had just endured.

Slowly, she moved through the manor, cleaning as efficiently as her body would allow. Each motion sent fresh agony through her, her scabbed wounds tearing open, warm blood trickling down her back.

She ducked into the nearest bathroom, ensuring no blood stained the floor. If they found a mess, she didn't want to imagine the punishment. Quietly, she secured the door and unwrapped the bloodied makeshift bandages. Retrieving fresh ones from the shelving unit, she swiftly replaced them, ensuring the wounds were properly covered.

She moved like a ghost through the manor, slipping into hiding spots whenever necessary. She knew the shortcuts, the rooms the family never bothered to enter. Each day, she avoided them as much as possible, existing only to do their bidding. To them, she was nothing more than a tool, a disposable object.

How much longer could she keep going?

She had convinced herself that surviving was better than dying, that one day something, someone, might bring her hope. But as the days blurred together, she wondered if she had been lying to herself all along.

She longed to feel the wind in her hair again, to let the sun kiss her skin, to drink and eat without fear. She wanted to feel a gentle touch instead of pain, warmth instead of cold indifference.

But those dreams were just that... dreams. And dreams had no place in the hell she called home.