Bring Me To Life

Dollhouse

Five days had come and gone, and an eerie silence had settled between Jennifer and Ben. Each evening, they shared their bed, but not a word passed between them. Their children, Cy, Sam, and Violet, could sense the tension that had taken root in their home, but they hesitated to broach the subject.

From Cy's perspective

I stirred from a nap on the living room couch, my mother Jennifer setting her book aside to hand me my glasses. "Thank you," I whispered, offering her a faint smile before stretching.

"Hey, Cy... Can I ask you something?" My mom's voice quivered with uncertainty.

"Yeah, what's up?" I yawned, snuggling up to her, the only comfort I allowed myself to seek in these uncertain times.

She hesitated for a moment, playing with my unruly curls. "If your dad and I were to consider therapy... would you be open to joining us?" She asked, her words carrying the weight of their troubled relationship.

I sighed, well aware that I had become guarded with my emotions. Ever since I witnessed Ben's relapse and the heart-wrenching incident at the restaurant, I'd grown reticent, sharing my feelings with very few. My loyal companion, Lady, our dog, seemed to be the only one who truly understood me, offering a non-judgmental ear.

"Um... I don't know. It's a tough question. I might need to think about it," I admitted. "I'd be willing to give it a try because you're asking, but honestly, I don't feel comfortable talking to someone I don't know."

"Okay... I understand," my mom replied with a sigh, sensing my reluctance. She shifted gears, asking, "Since you were with Ben at his workplace yesterday, did he mention me?"

"Hmm... yeah, but it was guy stuff," I deflected. I wasn't about to betray my father's confidence. My mom hugged me, her apology for probing into sensitive territory.

"Moooommm," I playfully whined, squirming out of her embrace and retreating to my room. I caught a glimpse of Ben in the hallway, engrossed in some notes. "Hey... are you two finally going to talk?" I asked, hoping for a resolution.

Ben's reply was disheartening. "There's nothing to talk about," he stated curtly before retreating into his office, leaving me with a heavy heart. Sam, my younger sibling, appeared crestfallen as well. For weeks, Ben had skipped their Saturday morning tradition of visiting Dunkin' Donuts for munchkins, and it was evident that the absence weighed on Sam.

"Wanna go to Dunkin' with Mom and Violet?" I offered, attempting to lift Sam's spirits, but he shook his head and retreated to his room. I, too, made my way to my room and slipped back into slumber.

Around dinner time, the inviting aroma of arroz con pollo roused me. I descended the stairs and found my mother serving everyone, while Ben stood quietly behind her, awaiting his turn. She served herself and took a seat at the dining table with my siblings. I took the initiative to serve Ben, a silent understanding passing between us.

"Thank you," he murmured as he collected his plate and sat beside my mom. The room felt oppressively warm, time seemed to drag on, and my heart raced in a disconcerting manner. The mounting tension in the air was suffocating. I felt as though my heart would leap from my chest. 

Anxiety gnawed at me, and I sought solace in my parents. But inexplicably, my voice failed me.I looked to my mom for help, but I couldn't muster the words. Did I appear normal to her while I was in turmoil within? This had not happened in a long time, not since I was six and discovered my father's betrayal and his secret family with Shannon.

Desperate for support, I turned to Ben, who was silently consuming his meal. He gazed at me and instantly recognized my distress. He guided me outside for fresh air, his presence calming.

"What's wrong, Cy?" he asked, his voice soothing.

"It's happening again... I feel like I'm reliving it," I admitted, tears streaming down my face, further intensifying my turmoil.

Ben gently picked me up, cradling me in his arms. His warmth and comforting embrace provided the safety and reassurance I needed, a stark contrast to the fear I had associated with him during his relapse. My mother appeared and joined us, offering her support.

"What's wrong, baby?" she asked, but I couldn't find the words, only my father's presence seemed to alleviate the pain.

"Cy is experiencing a surge of emotions tied to something they're not ready to talk about... I'll handle it, please go back inside and finish your meal," Ben assured my mom, who nodded with understanding.

"Do you want me to stay with you?" my mom asked, her eyes filled with concern.

"No, just Dad, please," I managed to request.

Gazing at my mother, my heart ached, as I remembered the pain she had endured when she discovered my dad's betrayal. As she retreated, my dad continued to hold me, offering soothing words and affirmations that provided the comfort I so desperately needed.With time, my anxiety receded, and my father gently set me down. We rejoined the dining table where my family had already finished eating. My mother had not touched her food since her earlier departure. My father moved my plate between theirs, creating a protective cocoon around me. I sat in between them, their arms wrapping around me. They began to speak again, even if it was just light conversation. It was all I had hoped for, and I felt immensely grateful for my parents' support in helping me navigate my anxiety.

To be continued...