***
For some reason, on ocassion, I found myself wondering what it was like to be human. But more than that, I wondered what it was like to die. Dolls don't die. They can expire, I guess, which is just a scary way of saying you won't be able to move or talk anymore. Expiration sounded peaceful to me, but death did not. Yet somehow I didn't imagine death to be like this: complete and utter darkness.I must have been laying there for an hour, but I was already losing track of the day's time when my box was taken up a flight of stairs and locked into a room behind a small door almost like a cupboard in the wall. I should have felt a sense of accomplishment. I had finished what I had set to do and spared someone else's life a year of misery, and yet I didn't feel that way. It was more like weariness, disappointment, and the feeling I imagine students get when they finish homework one night, only to be given more to do the next day at school. Smiling all that I could, I touched the icy red rose at my side, one that I kept from Elsa in my utility belt. She was still with me, even now, as I prepared for my first day of a year alone in the attic.
Feeling the rose gave me motivation to get out, and I coughed the dust that had already settled into my mouth. I would have to get used to dust from now on. I kicked the lid to my box open, ornaments falling around me this way and that. Good thing the humans didn't believe in taping their Christmas boxes shut. Swinging a leg over the side of my box, my feet braced for impact as I jumped onto the plywood flooring below, causing a small thump to ring out and another layer of dust to rise. Blinking, I took in my new surroundings. Christmas totes with red and pink lids towered around me like buildings in a foreign city, and cardboard boxes with old Sharpie marks etched into their sides read things like "baby clothes" or "pictures 99 to 04". I sighed and began scrounging the grounds for a proper place to set up camp for a the year.
My footsteps echoed with each tiptoe as I tried little by little to make my way forward. Everything around me was so dark that it began hard to make it proper colors. The bright blues and reds of my Captain America uniform faded into dark navys and maroons. Boxes became mere shapes, and the floor beneath me crunched with crumbs and accidentally broken glass. Each object was suddenly an obstacle as I fought my way from Point A to Point B. Wherever Point B was.
"Hello?" A voice called out from the beyond.
My metaphorical heart nearly stopped. Great, first day in the attic and I was already hallucinating. Still, I struggled forwards.
"Hello?" The same voice yelled again, very clearly this time. I was not alone in this attic.
My soldier senses took over and I stooped to hide behind one of the many boxes so I could first seek out if this person was a friend or foe.
"Are you a doll?" I tested, my mouth dry.
But the person did not reply to that. Maybe they didn't hear me well enough, which was believable.
"Benny? Benny? Are you back?"
At least now I knew what the person wanted. They were a doll, and they thought I was Benny. Here was the only problem- I wasn't. What would they do to me when they found out I had taken their supposed friend's place? And for an entire year?
I raised my arms for protection over me as I tiptoed towards the voice. This was the first time I was without Liberty, my shield, and it was weird how much I wanted it by my side.
"Hello?" I tried to let my voice sound courageous. "Hello? Sir? I- I have to let you know, I'm not Benny."
The person grew quiet almost immediately, and then spoke again. "Where is he?"
I sighed. "Downstairs. With the other dolls. I took his place for this year so I doesn't have to come back up here."
Silence again. I swallowed nervously.
"Who are you, then?" The voice inquired. Now that I was closer, it sounded like a male about my character's age that was talking.
"One of the newer dolls," I explained. "I was found on December 18th, a little earlier this month. My name is Steve Rogers."
"I recognize that name," said the person. "I have a name like that, too."
"Yeah, it's pretty common to find when you're a Captain America doll," I let out a small laugh to lighten the mood. Not that it brought any light to the pitch-black attic. "What's your name?"
"You're not going to believe this, but... Zayn Malik."
I wrinkled my nose. I was sorry to say that I could not say the same to him, that I recognized the name. Was I supposed to? Had I never heard it before?
Luckily, Zayn seemed to pick up on this. "You probably haven't heard of me. I'm a male doll, like you, but if I had to guess, you were found in the designated boys' toy section. Believe it or not, I'm from the girls' section."
I lowered my hands from my face. "Why?"
"I'm a One Direction doll. It's a boy band and I'm one of the singers. Well... was." Zayn did not sound very proud to say this.
"That's okay, I don't judge," I promised, trying to step blindly around a few obstacles. "I've never heard of One Direction myself, so you don't have to worry about my opinion here."
Zayn seemed relieved. "That's good. So why are you up here, then, and not Benny? You said you took his place to come up here, but why? How?"
"Benny was growing nervous about the after-Christmas packup, so the other dolls and I formed a plan to keep Benny hidden for the week, but I knew that wouldn't be enough. I knew She would notice a weight difference in the Christmas boxes when they were repacking. I told only one friend what I would be doing, and then I sneaked into a box and got taken up here," I waved my arm around in the dark, trying to make sense of it all myself. "The one friend I told can make her hands glow when she sings. I could really use her right now." I chuckled, trying to make it seem like her source of light was the only reason I needed her.
"What is your friend's name? I might know it."
"You probably will. It's Elsa." Somehow I couldn't believe that her name was able to escape my mouth without showing any emotion.
"Queen Elsa of Arendelle from that Frozen movie? Yeah, sounds familiar," Zayn coughed. He seemed to have the same nervous tick I did. "So, anyway, I have to a favor to ask if you don't mind."
I felt the nerves in my neck spike up as my heroic instincts kicked in. "Sure, anything."
"I'm sandwiched between two of these boxes here. They came with that pink box you arrived in."
Getting a little direction from Zayn, I was able to guide myself using nothing but outstretched arms to find him. I wasn't able to see much of him, but Zayn was clearly crushed under the weight of one of the ornament boxes and a really mildew-layered one, one that had been up here a long time. I wondered how long Zayn had been here.
When I pulled him out, I was able to see Zayn's true features, thanks to some dusty sunlight filtering through a crack in the roof. The only light in the entire spans of the attic. He was about my same height, probably a 12'' doll as well. He had coppery brown skin and extremely dark hair that stood up on its end. The irises of his eyes blended into the black of his pupils, and he was wearing a gray tank-top, denim skinny jeans, tan high-tops, and a red sports jacket.
"Thanks, Steve. I owe you one." Zayn began brushing the box residue from his shirt. Obviously he wasn't hurt by them.
"No problem. I guess I turned up here for a reason, right?" Though the moment reminded me painfully of when Elsa had to save me from my box, though I was trapped inside out rather than stuck between two of them. Rescuing Zayn was my way of returning the favor to someone.
Zayn looked at me, and his brow furrowed in the way someone might look at a person who's let them down. "Hey, where's your shield?"
"Oh, Liberty? Yeah, I named it Liberty. Um, I gave it to Elsa to keep for the year before I left."
"Ah. Well, it's going to be a while before you get it back." Zayn threw a hand behind him and began pushing around the objects in the attic with trained experience. I didn't know what else to do, so I followed him, helping him push the debris along the way.
"I realize that," I continued sadly. "But what do you do up here all this time? You've obviously been here a while if you know Benny," I paused, but my curiosity got the better of me. "What exactly got you into the attic anyways?"
I saw Zayn's hands clench into fists. "I did nothing. It was the humans that did. She's boy band phase only lasted for a month or maybe two. I was given a present from a friend who didn't know any better, and since She was long over Zayn, I was put up here to basically rot until expiration."
"Oh," Elsa was right. Everyone had their own tragic backstory. "I'm sorry to hear that."
Zayn ignored my pity. "It's whatever. It's really not that bad up here. Just a little claustrophobic and boring. There's not much to do except go through old boxes and search for things to use," Zayn pointed upwards at the crack in the ceiling. "I did that myself. There's some old stray school supplies up here, and I just threw pens at a weak spot until I was able to get enough light in here to see around. Maybe one day I'll turn it into an escape route, but so far, no such luck."
"Cool." Maybe I could teach myself to read and write while I was stuck in here. After all, Elsa was able to do the same even with less time than I would have. There was no use in doing push-ups or crunches like I was in jail, but there had to be something else to make the best use of my time.
Zayn stops at a clearing amongst the packages, and I right behind him. He leads me to where the roof slants downwards, meeting into a triangle with the scrappy wood floors. Some cotton candy colored insulation has been piled into two separate bundles, and it appeared that Zayn had constructed some furniture: two stools make from thimbles or bottlecaps. To pull it all together were scraps of fabric as placemats and a mousetrap- sans spring, as a table.
"Wait, there's mice up here?" Now I really wish I had Liberty.
"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot," Zayn dug underneath one of the insulation piles, which I'm assuming was a makeshift mattress, and pulled out a collection of colorful cocktail swords. He handed three to me, and I shoved the third into my utility belt for safekeeping. "Around this time of year, when it gets colder, rodents and stuff try to sneak into the humans' attic for shelter and warmth. We don't want them in here with us, or they'll take all of our stuff. So that's why we have the cocktail swords. Don't kill them or anything, just try to scare them away," Zayn hid the other three swords under his mattress again and took a step back. "These are the living quarters. One of each thing is for me and Benny got the rest, but seeing as you're taking Benny's place, I guess you can have his things."
"Thanks," I said, and with slightly feigned appreciation, took the time to test out my year's bed. The pink insulation grew flat immediately under my weight, but at least it was soft and cottony. It was no dresser from the Room She Lives In, but it would have to do until next Christmas. I couldn't believe that it would be that long. I didn't doubt my choice to save Benny and be up here instead of him, but the attic wasn't my home. Standing up again, I kicked the stuffing around to form it back into a bed-like shape. "Have you ever tried to escape before? I mean- not out through the roof? Two and a half stories is pretty high up for a doll to fall."
Zayn scratches his chin. "I've considered it. But I was never strong enough to do anything about it," he flexes his biceps to prove it. "These plastic muscles were only for real life Zayn to show off to get preteens to like him. I'm no super soldier," he shrugs. "The door over there is only small enough to fit boxes through unless you crouch down. And I wouldn't know where to go to hide from the humans in the house if I got out. And- just between you and me- Benny is too old and brittle to help much with the heavy lifting. But hey-" Zayn's eyes trace me from my mask to my red boots. "You're built like a hero. Maybe there will be some hope to get out with you here now, Steve."
I rub my arms for warmth, either that or to cover the fact that I was suddenly aware of my own body. "Maybe. But I have to warn you, I'm not much of an escape artist."
"We can work on that," said Zayn, plopping down onto his bed and kicking up his feet. He grabs a piece of mulch from the pocket of his jeans and one of the cocktail swords, which was duller on one side. "Benny taught me how to whittle. You can join me if you're interested. I don't know how else you're going to pass the time until dinner, but you can wander around if you like."
I watch Zayn carve away at the wood chip for a while, each rough end falling to the floor, mixing in with the surrounding dust and dirt. "We have food up here?" I asked, letting a little hope leak into my voice. I couldn't imagine why else they'd keep table settings.
Zayn laughs, my spirits sinking again. "Something like that. Enough to get by, at least. Since we dolls don't eat, the table and chairs are mostly just for some homey decor. But occasionally you'll find some cinnamon-scented pinecones or scratch-and-sniff stickers. Since it's after Christmas, I have something special saved."
"Really? What is it?"
He only laughs again. "Don't get your hopes up, Captain. It's just the cookie decorating supplies. If you're lucky, sometimes they smell like vanilla from the holiday baking party."
"Ah, of course." I didn't know what else I was expecting but leftovers. No more chocolate or croissants for me.
"We'll eat when the sun disappears from that crack in the ceiling." said Zayn, nodding once in the light's direction, then returning to his carving. Normally I would have taken up Zayn's offer by choosing to explore around a little bit, but I've a whole year to do that. For now, I just wanted to take a nap. I settled down on my insulation bed again, arms folded across my chest and eyes towards the darkness of a wall I'd be staring at for months. I sighed, still trying to ready myself for a new life in the attic with Zayn and savage mice.
But it was hard for me not to stay positive. Things could have been so much worse. I might have been in a dumpster somewhere, completely forgotten by my humans. At least this way I knew I had a chance of escaping back into the house (though I doubted that I would do that) and next year I'd be back with my friends... and my maybe-more-than friend. The little amount of light, promise of cookies for dinner, and a potential new friend cheered me, and I had some hope from my time in purgatory. But first it was time to shut my eyes for a long winter's nap.
Starting a new adventure,
Steve Rodgers
