Broken Dolls by James Carol

wished herself out of the dark, and now she could see, she wished she was blind again because all she could see was the dentist’s chair.
    The chair was made from brushed steel and had cream upholstery. It was solid and heavy and identical to the sort of chair she sat in every six months when she went for her check-up. Identical except for one big difference: the straps. Padded straps to secure arms, padded straps to secure legs, a padded strap to hold the head in place. For a while she just sat on the mattress and stared at the chair. She didn’t want to, but couldn’t help herself. Just looking at that chair made her feel sick.
    Rachel got up and walked over to the chair in a trance. The upholstery on the armrests was stained dark in places. She knew it was blood but didn’t want to admit that to herself because then she’d be opening up the floodgates, and she wasn’t ready to go there yet. She didn’t know if she’d ever be ready.
    ‘Number Five will walk over to the door.’
    Adam’s voice came from all around her. It was distorted and robotic, so loud it was deafening. Rachel spun around in terror. Four speakers were hung high on the walls, one in each corner, all painted white. The cameras fitted next to each speaker were painted white, too, positioned so there were no blind spots.
    ‘Number Five will walk over to the door,’ Adam repeated.
    Rachel walked slowly to the door. She stared at the floor so she wouldn’t have to look at the cameras, watched her feet move one in front of the other. Her legs felt like they belonged to someone else and her whole body was trembling. She was aware of the cameras following her every move. The dog flap swung open and a bucket was pushed through. The bucket was filled to the three-quarter mark with soapy water, a scrubbing brush floating on top. The dog flap swung shut with a clatter.
    ‘Number Five will clean up her mess.’
    Rachel hesitated. She glanced at the speakers, glanced at the cameras, glanced at the pool of vomit next to the mattress. Then she looked at the dentist’s chair. She picked up the bucket and carried it over to the mattress, got down on her hands and knees and scrubbed the floor clean. The smell of bleach got into her nose and made her eyes water. The chemicals burnt into her hands and made her skin itch. When she’d finished cleaning up, she carried the bucket back to the door. The dog flap opened when she was a few steps away.
    ‘Number Five will put the bucket through the flap.’
    Rachel complied immediately. The flap clattered shut and the lights went out. Adam’s footsteps faded into the distance, a door opened then closed. The only sound was the sound of her breathing. Rachel made her way back across the room, slowly, arms outstretched like a sleepwalker. She reached the far wall, followed it around until she found the mattress, then lowered herself down and wrapped a blanket around herself. She was searching for comfort, but all she found was a lonely sadness that gnawed away at what little hope she had left. She closed her eyes to fight off the tears and the backs of her lids burned white and pink in the darkness.

16
    The temperature outside the Fizz offices was at least fifty degrees colder than it had been inside. It was like walking into a freezer. Most of the snow had melted, leaving behind grey piles of slush and treacherous patches of pavement ice. I zipped my jacket up to my chin, pulled my hood over my head, and wished I was in California or Hawaii or Rio, anywhere that was sunny and warm. Anywhere but here.
    ‘Do you want to press charges?’ Templeton asked.
    I gave her a look. ‘Why the hell would I do that?’
    ‘Well, first off, Greg Flight assaulted you. And secondly, he’s an arsehole. There’s two good reasons to get you started.’
    ‘And thirdly, he told me what I wanted to know, and at the end of the day that’s all that matters. If I press charges I’m just wasting time and energy that could be put to