Chapter Text
You looked out at the dimly lit room, the carcasses of renovations mom had planned to do rotting in her absence. You would likely need to do something about all of it before trying to hand off the house. Even if someone would probably buy it in this state, it'll give you more funds if you managed to at least somewhat salvage the half finished remodeling projects littering the building.
The wooden floorboards creek in protest as you maneuver through the hallway, careful not to knock over any of the bloated trashbags leaning against the walls lest they spill their contents and make this house even more of a disaster. You were supposed to bring some of the bags to a landfill, since the contents couldn't be burned and were too broken to give away, and others were to be donated or given away to friends. And yet, every time you're reminded to bring them to the car, you tell yourself you'll ‘remember it later’...
You don't remember it later. (or you do, it just hits you after you're already driving home for the day)
As a kid you'd always looked forward to the day you were tall enough to do things like reach the tall shelves so you could get a better look at moms ever-growing collection of shiny rocks or being able to reach the top cabinet in the kitchen so you could finally help mom in the kitchen when she was baking. Yet you feel no such joy and wonder as you easily pull the tab dangling from the ceiling to open the hatch that leads to the attic.
The old wooden stairs resist your efforts to extend them, but a little extra tug has them tumbling out, the stairs making a mildly loud noise as wood hits wood. A slight flinch away from the commotion and the sharp feeling of muscle memory kicks in faster than you can think as your breath quiets to a nearly mute volume, head slumped forward and legs only held up by an instinctual locking of your knees, focus already dancing in the distance with the conscious mind held far away from the front.
A blink and you're back to the present, eyes refocusing on the world in front of you as you breathe deeply through your nose. The tension seeps back out of your tense shoulders, the shape of your nails temporarily engraved into your open palms.
The first step is taken carefully, weary of the very real possibility of things breaking from under your feet just to leave you scrambling to not face-plant your way to another life… You're not sure whether to be thankful you climbed the stairs without possibly breaking your face or disappointed you didn't have an excuse to not continue sorting through the mountains of boxes hiding in the chilly attic.
Yet another sneeze rippled through you as more dust kicked up into the air from the lid of the wooden toy box, the light from your flashlight shaking in your hand. The box was an old, weathered thing that had definitely seen better days. The flakey polish and illegible crayon scribbles have you pushing the brimming feelings ever further away.
You looked blandly at the well-loved box. You don't think there's anything in there worth keeping, probably just some old toys and a whole bunch more dust. Sparing your lungs the trouble by not opening the box seemed like a logical choice. It would be the most logical to let what is dead stay in its grave. Yet, you seem to forget how illogical your feelings can be at times.
The box seems to almost shiver under your apprehensive touch, the wood looking surprisingly sturdy and intact despite sitting in a dusty attic full of what you hope was just mouse droppings. (Which was yet another thing you'd need to take care of before you could sell the house.)
A short sigh left your slumped body as you mustered the energy to open what was bound to be just another box full of junk.
And it was.
Broken action figures, crumpled papers, a bunch of loose puzzle pieces. It was just about as boring as you expected, yet your curiosity drove you to dig deeper. And soon you would be rewarded with quite the surprise.
Right there, at the very bottom of your old toy box, was a small, vaguely human-shaped plush, its button eyes staring straight up at you. You narrow your eyes at the familiar sight, blurry images bordering the edge of your mind; just out of reach, a happy feeling radiating from the long forgotten memories floating through your fuzzy mind.
You reach down and carefully lift the well-loved plush, its limbs dangling limply over the edge of your hand. You bring it closer to your face to further examine the doll. The clothes, though slightly worn out, look well crafted. The blues and blacks dominated the color palette in a way that still managed to match the intricate accessories that, like the clothes, seem permanently fastened to the doll's body.
Though that's not what caught your eye the most. In front of the frilly white neckpiece, resting over the doll's chest sat what seemed to be jewelry in the shape of an eye. The swirly silver frame shone slightly as you held it up to the dim light, the weirdly detailed and strangely shaped blue eye staring through you even more than the doll itself.
Despite its mildly creepy button eyed stare, you actually found the doll to be quite cute. From its black and blue tendril-like hair, to the frilly white cuffs on its wrists
And it would be a shame to throw away such loving craftsmanship…
Then it was settled. Despite protests from the more logical side of your mind, it was only a matter of time before you gave into the urge to keep the old doll. Besides, you'll at least have some sort of company now as you deal with the piles of junk and half-finished projects littering the rest of the house.