Pain exploded in my head as I scoured for the lost memories of last night’s disaster date. Random babbling of my blind date worms its way back into my conscious mind, followed by terrible live poetry by amateurs and one drink too many to drown it all out. What followed was a long taxi ride home, my legs feeling of lead as I stomped up the stairs to my single bedroom apartment and a rough bed. More blaring music as the neighbor blasts his obnoxiously loud jazz music at all hours of the night every night.

‘Come to think of it, why don’t I hear that music now? And just where is this? This is hardness, it feels plastic and stiff as a board.’

Rubbing my sore eyes, I sat up and froze in place. The décor was off entirely, pink walls with foreign pictures, of people that looked too perfect to be real. Vacations that I could never afford to go, a snowboard and surfboard lazily propped against a side wall. An overwhelming scent of rose petals, the most disgusting of all flowers.

‘This is not my room. This is not my house. Where the fuck is this?’

Rolling off the bed, my legs still weak from the night drinking. Staggering footsteps, leaning on the wall for balance, I make it to the window. Fingers run across the coarse material, more plastic, but at least it is clear enough to view the outside. A few minutes of stunned silence later, my mind recovers and I can no longer keep my thoughts inside and casual.

“What the fuck is going on? Where the fuck am I? Somebody get their ass over here and answer me!”

I’m already screaming by the end, despite the burning sensation building in my throat. Definitely overdid it on the drinking. The bedroom outside the window reminds me of a stereotypical fan girl, complete with the signed posters of One Direction and BTS plaster the far wall.  Framed on both sides by artistic drawings in light paints and colored pencils of a happy family, small dolls and a tall dresser. It’s the doll that captures my attention most of all, the clothing, the hair, why does it remind me of me? And why has no one answered my questions yet?

A groan from behind has me spinning around, too fast for my stomach to maintain a healthy state. Nausea overrides any sense of decorum or balance, toppling over I empty the liquid contents onto the floor only a few steps from the bright pink plastic bed. Disgusting, I’m disgusting, it’s the only thought I can lock onto as I stare down at the bile. Then the noise rings out once more and my attention bounces away once more.

Return to the wall, the coarse plastic pricking my fingertips as I crawl along to my destination. The sound is clearer now, a man’s voice, a pained voice. At last, someone that may have answers, even if he sounds like a dying cat. I should get a weapon, eyes dart for anything useful, land on the snowboard and snatch it up in one hand. The surfboard has a longer reach, but it is too heavy and I’m too unsteady on my feet. A single swing with the snowboard may be my limit so I’ll have to be fast and accurate if I’m wrong about the man.

‘Did the floor just shift under my feet? I could swear the floor just moved.’

The thought only just flickered across when a whole section of wall disappeared outward and a giant girl’s face entered my sight. Blonde pigtails, a toothy grin, eyes that sparked with curiosity and cruelty, it all aroused a fear that I never knew I had and sobered me up immediately though now I really wanted another bottle. Small for her size fingers reached out, softly caressing my back as I froze up entirely. Fingers still curled around the lame excuse of a weapon in my left hand while my legs shook from sheer terror.

“Hello dolly! I found the perfect Ken for you, now you can make babies and be a happy family forever and over.”

What I can only imagine was intended to be a soft push sent me sprawling across the floor and rolling down to the first floor of the opened house. More pain rocketed up my entire left side as I hit the floor snowboard first. Nothing broken as I could still move my fingers and toes, just incredible shooting pains. Barely crawling up, two fingers pinched my shirt and set me back on my feet impatiently. Another stagger forward as a pinky the size of my entire chest pushed me into an upright position.

“Ken, this is Barbie. Isn’t she great? Daddy found her yesterday!”

That innocent voice of the devil rang out once more as two pairs of eyes turned to face a man laying prone on the ground a few steps from my side. Black crew cut hair, obsidian eyes, angular jaw and dressed in a polo shirt with khakis. Overall, not a bad looking man, but something about her earlier wors was still ringing alarms in my head. Her father found me especially for him? Who was he then?

“Little girl, my name is Emily, not Barbie. Perhaps your father made a mistake?”

Wrong words, definitely the wrong words as that toothy grin turned to a scowl immediately. Definitely the wrong words, a large index finger crashed into my chest only a second later. Flying once more, right into the plastic kitchenette and another explosion of pain, this time in my back.

“Don’t you ever call Daddy a liar! He is the perfect man and he would never lie to me! If he says you are Barbie and Ken, then you must be Barbie and Ken.”

‘Fuck your fucking father and fuck you’

Shaky steps place me next to the man, only now I can see he is prone not of his own decision but due to the leg bent at an odd angle. Cold sweat runs down my back like a river. She must have noticed my gaze as two fingers pinched the leg and twisted it back into place. The scream that followed drowned out any other thoughts.

Eyes squeezed shut as I tried to hum a song, distract myself from this obscene reality. A distraction that lasted only mere moments as his screaming stopped and changed to grunting effort. Peeking through my hands at him, I found him already crawling towards me. Something in his eyes had radically changed, there was no more empathy of someone in a similarly cruel situation. There was only desire, a growing lust that spiked my sense of disgust even further than when I lost everything only minutes earlier.

“You, stay, stay right where you are! And you, if you want to see how babies are made, go do a Google search like a normal young girl! I refuse to have babies with Ken or anyone else for that matter! I am still a vir— “

A burst of pain interrupted my argument as I worked on my pilot’s license once more. Violent little witch, always hitting people smaller than her. My right upper arm twisted into an odd angle, for some reason I thought of pretzels just before my left side once again impacted hard. Flashes of my ex-boyfriend beating me over a cold cup of coffee flicker across my eyes as my resolve firms up.

“I was trying to be nice about it, but now II don’t care anymore. Fuck you, princess. Fuck your father, fuck your mother, fuck your entire family, you devil born piece of blonde shit!”

Consciousness left me as a large skinny palm came crashing down on my head. At last, I thought, some peace. Maybe this terrible dream will be over when I wake and I can return to reality.

…

That was nearly eight months ago if my count isn’t off. Time is so hard to tell now that I can’t move around on my own. I don’t regret much though, it’s hard to regret when looking down at the swell in my belly. Little Becca, the giant girl, has grown on me too since she makes Ken do all of the housework and cooking. He even has to change my bedding every day. I do miss walking and talking though, but I know now I was a terrible person. Becca told me so after all.