Dolly by Mehreen Ahmed

Dolly

    
“Not without her,” Ana screamed. “I’m not leaving without Dolly.”
    But the police officer kept pestering. She put Ana in hand-cuffs. Ana yelled at the constable. She pleaded. But the resolute officer didn’t budge. She told Ana that she must leave without her doll. For it was really she, who was in trouble, not her doll. Ana realised that police officer didn’t understand that Dolly was her security blanket, now and always. Ever since she was five, now fifteen.
    “Trouble?” she screamed. “You say, I’m in trouble? A parasite under the radar until you caught me out?”
    “What else would you call yourselves? You, downy mildews of fester? You steal buns from that bakery, there.
    “I only steal for hunger.”
    “Little snitch! I’ll get you sorted out.”
    “Ha! I have been like this since five. I sold flowers on Harlon Street, an orphan, and a phantom to most. Those who saw my flowers, never saw me; I was invisible to them, camouflaged like screech owl on a living bark. Then one day, someone noticed me,” she said.
    “Who? Who noticed you?” asked the police constable.
    “He did. The big man. One evening, it rained. I appeared at his car window with a bunch of yellow chrysanthemums. He rolled down his windows and offered me money. He told me to take the money, and re-sell the wet bunch. Just when the lights changed, I dropped the flowers on his lap, saying that he must take them or else Dolly may get offended. The man drove away.
    She looked down at the grooved pavement littered with torn plastic bags. A bed made out of slippery bags for a slippery life.
    “Is this any way to live? You should be ashamed of your life?” The constable yelled.
    “Yeah? You have a better idea? Where were you, when they took me? I had almost become the big men’s playing doll. Where were you when those leeches nearly lay me down in their valley, the dark night’s under-bridge?”
    Another rain began as Ana told her story, how the same car came back the next night, and she, a mere child of ten ran towards it to sell some more. But this time, the driver opened the car door, instead of a window. He tried to entice her with bundle loads of money. The girl was frightened and ran she away this night.
    The end of her flower selling days came the next evening. This time she had Dolly with her. That car was on the street. She stood squeezed in between the traffic jam. Two strong hands grabbed her and pulled her inside.
    She fretted, twisted and turned. Ana fell asleep gripping Dolly close to her chest.The car sped along; they reached a mansion. The heavy doors opened, a woman appeared. She came to the car and took Ana inside. They entered a pink bedroom. She scoffed at her, ‘not another word’. Weeks and months passed. She was kept all to herself in this pink bedroom. It was full of dolls. The woman dolled her up too, beautiful dresses, and new make-up. But she missed her street.
    Then one day, the man summoned her into the living-room she hadn’t seen in many days. But he wasn’t alone. He was with others.
    “What’s your name, little girl?” asked another man.
    She replied, shyly, “Ana,”
    “Lovely name, Ana. Go pack a small bag, I want to take you out.” 
    A cold shiver ran through her. She was going out with this strange man. Maybe, this could open up an escape route. In her room, she  packed a pink suitcase and picked up Dolly. She came back into the living-room. The man took her hand and walked her out of the palace. Ana never saw this palace again, the woman, or the first man. They climbed into another car that the new man drove. In the car, he looked at her and slid his hand under Ana’s skirt. Ana felt odd. She tried to move away from him. By now he had started his car, and the car sped down a highway.
    “Where are you taking me?” Ana asked.
    “You’ll see. Don’t be afraid.”
    Ana began to cry. She screamed so much that the man had to stop his car. He took Ana by her shoulders, and shook them.
    “Stop this. Stop this at once. Or else I’ll kill you.”
    Ana cowed before his rage. He glowered at her and restarted his car. She looked at her doll and pressed her close to her chest. Her nails dug deep into the doll’s cascading hair. She thought of her flowers, the delicate white, yellow, pink chrysanthemum petals. How they bloomed before her and perished. Her freedom on the street, her kind boss, the owner of the flower shop. Some days, she got paid, some days, she didn’t. Some days she ate, some days she didn’t. It all depended on the sale. But this? Anything was better than this. She fought her miserable thoughts. This new place, she didn’t know. Where was she going to go? The driver stopped the car, yet again. He got out, locking her inside. Ana’s restive mind thought of a way out. She held her Dolly tight and said. 
    “Dear Dolly, I will take you out of here. I won’t let that bastard touch you.” 
    The doll looked at her and blinked. She had wings. She rose from her lap like a dot of light. There was a sound of the window locks clicking and popping straight up. The car doors flung open. Bright lights in her eyes, Dolly smiled. Ana was free. She jumped out of the car. She fled. She fled with Dolly and never looked back. The man had gone to buy coffee, she imagined. She pictured him back into the car, looking frantically for Ana. But all he found was her pink suitcase, perched neatly up against the seat’s leather base. 

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Mehreen Ahmed is an award-winning, internationally published and critically acclaimed author. She has written Novels, Novella, Short Stories, Creative Nonfiction, Flash Fiction, Academic, Prose Poetry, Memoirs, Essays and Journalistic Write-Ups. Her works have been anthologised and translated in German, Greek and Bengali. She was born and raised in Bangladesh. At the moment, she lives in Australia. 
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5267169.Mehreen_Ahmed