The Dollhouse

Chapter 39

THE plan I had, had to be carried out alone.

"Where are you going?"

I had taken great care to rise during the early hours of the morning, before the red sun had even peaked over the hills out in Dutch Country. Just as I was lacing up my sneakers to slip quietly out into the new day, a voice made me start.

Violet drifted into the room, her bare feet making no sound across the floorboards. It was definitely her - but it was as if she had been snatched for an alternate universe. Her dark hair was back, face pale and untouched, and she wore the ugly Victorian dress that displeased her so much. This was what it looked like. Violet, the version that they had finally defeated.

"You'll see," I said, turning the doorknob. "I'm going to get us out of here."

"What do you propose by that?" Her voice dropped at the sound of a creak upstairs. "Lydia, wait - what are you hiding?"

I didn't stand around and entertain her questions. I was running, running away into the untouched purity of a fresh morning, not looking back at the joke I couldn't even describe as home.

Not a soul knew where I planned to go. Which was why arriving at the train station unscathed seemed like a more momentous victory than usual. It was identical to the platform we'd departed from when Daddy picked us up on that fateful occasion we fare-welled Washington - and began our hellish lives in Haverbrook. I purchased a ticket, then a bottle of water, watching the litter blow around my ankles.

I'd never journeyed on a train alone before. By the time the right number arrived, the sun had broken through the clouds, streaks of yellow painting the concrete. I got on carefully. Half of me was terrified I'd end up in Texas or something, so I hounded the conductor until he grumpily confirmed my ticket was correct.

The good thing about public transportation is that it gives you all the time in the world to think. Dearly, I wished that I was running away from that miserable, old-fashioned town, but I couldn't leave Violet.

What would happen to Rudy? Or Nick? Even Betsy and Lorna - or poor Sherri?

There were too many people reliant on me.

Townships and the countryside blurred by in one. I couldn't even loosen the stress from my shoulders; I sat straight, knees knocking together as my leg bounced. Ever time the train came to a halt, my stomach somersaulted.

And then, we were at the destination.

Euka, PA.

It was a trendy borough situated close to the eastern border of the state. Even the platform was state-of-the-art, with a glass roof with projected light on to all angles of the station. There were posters for performing arts and pleasant-looking, modern folk milling about in bright colors. I got off slowly with a sense of dizziness. 

Announcements sang the arrivals and departures in a musical voice. Reaching for the crumpled address in my pocket, I straightened out the paper torn from the phone book. It was half past eight AM. There were endless hours to spare. 

I must've looked idiotic walking around; holding a cheap map held upside-down, I went past the fantastic buildings with no grace. A cab pulled up beside me. But I told the driver I had no money, so I ended up catching a bus - and then another bus, which took me a few miles in the wrong direction. The temperature wasn't very harsh but I still found myself sweating. Worst case scenario I'd find a pay phone and call Betsy. Could Lorna drive all the way out here to pick me up? My feet seem to be trudging on automatically at this rate; if I so much as though about stopping they'd start killing me.