Dollhouse [Closed to Aang]
Asuka dreamed again. The Nightmare King aside, she has disturbing, surrealistic dreams and nightmares on her own. Usually they weren't that bad and only half-remembered the following morning. She can typically remember her mother. It's not something she talks about with anyone ever. However, tonight was different. Tonight was horrifically, terribly visceral and real to her. It was almost as if she was standing in that corridor again, staring at the door (except she's not a child anymore, but her grown self).
She didn't want to turn the knob. She didn't want to go inside that room. She knew what was beyond it, what lay in wait for her. Her mother was dead. Her mother had hung herself and hung her. Asuka. The doll her mother had treated like her daughter instead of the flesh and blood being. Her hand rose of its own accord - despite her silent screams and the will she threw behind the gesture, despite the rising horror and dread. She turned the door knob and the door flew open, sending a long rectangle of light into the darkened room beyond.
She choked back a sob and slid back against the corridor wall, siding down until she was huddled against the floor, staring. She was reliving it all over again. Her mother's corpse hanging from the ceiling. As if that weren't bad enough the doll - that horrible, wretched doll, with it's yarn hair and button eyes slowly swung around, almost like it had a mind of it's own, and seemed to stare at her.
Die with me.
A whispered voice on the edge of her hearing.
"No! I don't- I want to live...!"
Her voice was a thin, reedy wail as she began to claw at the wall behind her, searching for a way out of this nightmare. The doll twitched. Then again as the rope holding it snapped and it dropped to the floor to lie in a little heap.
She was trying not to scream again as she half-crawled away from the doorway. Not again. Not again.
It was following her. The doll was following her. Dragging itself along on it's arms, scuttling impossibly fast after her. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening.
She didn't want to turn the knob. She didn't want to go inside that room. She knew what was beyond it, what lay in wait for her. Her mother was dead. Her mother had hung herself and hung her. Asuka. The doll her mother had treated like her daughter instead of the flesh and blood being. Her hand rose of its own accord - despite her silent screams and the will she threw behind the gesture, despite the rising horror and dread. She turned the door knob and the door flew open, sending a long rectangle of light into the darkened room beyond.
She choked back a sob and slid back against the corridor wall, siding down until she was huddled against the floor, staring. She was reliving it all over again. Her mother's corpse hanging from the ceiling. As if that weren't bad enough the doll - that horrible, wretched doll, with it's yarn hair and button eyes slowly swung around, almost like it had a mind of it's own, and seemed to stare at her.
Die with me.
A whispered voice on the edge of her hearing.
"No! I don't- I want to live...!"
Her voice was a thin, reedy wail as she began to claw at the wall behind her, searching for a way out of this nightmare. The doll twitched. Then again as the rope holding it snapped and it dropped to the floor to lie in a little heap.
She was trying not to scream again as she half-crawled away from the doorway. Not again. Not again.
It was following her. The doll was following her. Dragging itself along on it's arms, scuttling impossibly fast after her. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening.