Luke Delaney - The Toy Taker

‘The Lord is my shepherd,’ he whispered as he pushed the door open slowly, inch by inch, allowing the light from within to gradually intrude into the darkness of the hallway, casting a shadow behind him that crept across the floor and climbed the wall opposite — grey tendrils creeping through the gaps in the door opposite that led to the younger sister of the one he’d come to save — to give a better life to − until finally the door was all but fully open and he could see clearly inside, the pale light more than enough for eyes that had already adjusted to the dark. He stood frozen, unable to cross the threshold into her room. The scent of her rushed his senses, making him fill his lungs through his nose until he felt his chest would rupture. He could feel her warmth, but the beauty of her life made him stall — begin to lose faith. The doubts urged him to run from the house and keep running to somewhere far, far away where the voices couldn’t find him. But in his soul he knew there was no such place. The voices would always find him. They were a part of him.

He crouched down and placed his bag carefully on the floor and unzipped it with only the faintest sound, both his hands sliding slowly inside before reappearing holding the small, inanimate thing that he knew would be so special to the girl that he would instantly have her trust. He held it as if it was a new-born life. She wanted it more than almost anything in the world and only he could make that happen. That knowledge gave him strength — the strength to stand, the special thing in one hand, the bag in the other, and to walk into the room, moving closer and closer to the tiny figure huddled under the duvet.

The next thing he knew he was standing at her bedside, looming over her like a malevolent cloud, still clutching the special thing.

‘The Lord is my shepherd,’ he whispered softly as he crouched at the little girl’s bedside, placing the bag on the floor as he held the special thing towards her face — her beautiful porcelain face, pale blue in the night light, eyes still closed peacefully as she breathed softly through her slightly pursed lips. He could just make out the bottom of her two front teeth. ‘Let the children come to him and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.’ Her long eyelashes began to flicker, her lips parted further as she drew a waking breath. ‘Victoria — time to wake up, Victoria,’ he gently told her, brushing blonde curls from her face as he spoke, her innocent beauty tearing at his chest, the pressure inside his head becoming almost unbearable as he struggled to suppress the growing damn of tears he felt swelling behind his eyes. His strength and belief deserted him, and he momentarily closed his eyes, bracing himself to rise and flee from the room before the voices could come and persuade him otherwise. But when he opened them again he saw that her penetrating green eyes were now wide open, staring in disbelief, her pink lips spreading into a wide smile as she was suddenly completely awake.

‘Polly,’ she called out loudly enough to be heard beyond the bedroom, replacing his doubts with fear and panic. ‘Where have you been, you naughty dolly?’

‘Sssh,’ he tried to hush her, watching her eyes focus beyond the rag-doll and on to him for the first time. ‘We need to be very quiet now. We could get in trouble if we wake anyone else up.’

‘You found Polly,’ she told him excitedly with no fear or apprehension.

‘Yes, and I brought her back to you. But we need to be quiet now, or they may take Polly away again.’

‘Who? Who wants to take her away again?’

‘Bad people,’ he lied to her. ‘People who don’t understand things.’

‘What things?’

‘Just things,’ he answered, his fear subsiding.

‘But where has Polly been? Mummy and Daddy looked everywhere for her, but they couldn’t find her.’

‘Ahh, she’s been to a very special place. A place where only the best toys ever get to go, and where only the best boys and girls ever get to see.’

‘How do you know?’ she asked, her face the picture of childish confusion and intrigue.

‘Because I live there. I live there with all the special things and all the special boys and girls.’

‘Is it a magic place?’

‘The most magical,’ he told her, choking back his tears. ‘The most magical place you’ve ever seen.’

‘Can I see it?’

‘No,’ answered sadly. ‘I should love to show you, but I think it’s best you stay here with your family.’

‘But I want to see it. I want you to show me.’

‘Really?’ he questioned, confused and disorientated by the child’s insistence.

‘Can I bring Polly?’ the little girl asked.

‘I think … I think Polly would rather stay here with all her friends.’

‘No,’ the little girl told him firmly. ‘Polly wants to go back to the magic world. She doesn’t like the other dolls here; they’re mean to her.’

‘Oh,’ he queried. ‘Why are they mean to her?’

‘Because she’s my favourite. They’re jealous. Dolls are like people: sometimes they just like being mean.’

He looked at the door, trying to force himself away from her bedside without speaking with her any more, but she enchanted him. ‘Are … is someone being mean to you?’ he asked, afraid of what the answer may be. ‘Is someone … hurting you?’

‘No,’ she answered almost flippantly, looking at Polly the whole time. ‘Not hurting me, but they are mean to me.’

‘Who?’ he asked urgently.

‘The children at my school. Mummy says they’re mean to me because they must be jealous of me, but she says I have to stay there because she’s too busy to look after me. She has to work very hard, so I have to go to the school.’

God has given you a sign , his wife’s voice told him, spinning his mind into ever-deeper confusion. You must believe — the child wants you to take her, wants you to save her. It is God’s will . ‘No,’ he argued. ‘No more. Enough. I won’t take her.’ He closed his eyes tight trying to resist the voice — to silence his dead wife − until a tiny warm hand rested on his forearm and eased them open again.

‘Who are you talking to?’

‘No one,’ he lied. ‘I was just remembering something — someone I used to know.’

‘You look really sad,’ she told him. ‘I think you must be very lonely. If me and Polly come with you then you won’t be sad any more and neither will me or Polly.’

The girl is a sign — a sign that what you are doing is right, is God’s will . He brushed the tears from his eyes and quietly coughed his throat clear. You must do as God wills you to do — you must .

‘Very well,’ he surrendered. ‘You can come with me — come with me to somewhere where we’ll never be treated badly. Somewhere no one will ever be mean to us again. You and I, and the other children will all go together — to where there are green pastures and quiet streams — where only the righteous and the innocent are allowed — to live in eternal peace together. Would you like that, Victoria?’

‘Can Polly come too?’

‘Yes. Polly too.’

‘And Mummy and Daddy, and Katherine?’

‘Well, maybe one day they’ll meet us there, but not just yet, I don’t think. Not just yet.’

He stood in the corner, unable to move — unable even to look away as the dark silhouette of the man grew closer and closer to the boy sitting on the edge of the bed. He could hear the man’s whispers of encouragement, although he couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying. He had to watch helplessly as the faceless man sat next to the boy, his attempts to cry out, to warn the boy to run, trapped in his throat, as the shadow man started to gently stroke the boy’s hair. He knew what was about to happen and desperately tried to scream out loud as the hand suddenly gripped the boy tightly by the scruff of his neck and bent him painfully backwards, twisting him so he could now see his face — his own face, when he was a boy. The man’s features became clear too and he recognized his father, smiling, but snarling at the same time. Even in the dream Sean could smell the alcohol on his father’s breath as his face moved closer and closer to the boy that Sean used to be. But he still couldn’t move or even call out, despite knowing the horror of what was about to happen.