Playing House

Once.

Twice.

I blinked back against the warm sunlight spilling from my open bedroom window. Then, in a lazy yawn, stretched my arms against the bubblegum headboard.

"You're finally awake..." A low voice mused.

Stunned into a strangled scream, I snapped forward instantly. As the comforter dropped to the floor with a cartoonish plop, my satin pink pajamas were left on full display.

And, at the foot of the bed, neat and polished, stood the man with the spine-chilling smile.

His posture was relaxed, a tall frame adorned in bright clothes and an artificial fragrance.

I snuck a glance down to the stranger's palms, grateful to see no visible weapon. On the contrary, both of his hands only gripped at the footboard, fingers flexing and unflexing.

"How did you sleep, honey? Breakfast is almost ready."

The intruder watched me expectantly, head tilted and eyebrows drawn. When my eyes met his own, almost as if on cue, full lips curled upwards into a roguish grin.

Honey?

What...kind of situation was I in exactly?

"I slept fine...thank you." I lied carefully, playing along. I hadn't stuttered or shaken.

The man's head nodded in approval.

Good.

I'd said the right thing.

I took another moment to appraise him, cautious in keeping my expression outwardly calm and pleasant -- a mask of indifference.

The stranger's features were dark but polished, long black lashes and a thick head of coiffed hair. He had a classic look to him, a dimpled smile and creased eyes. White, perfect teeth. Faultless skin. Like a movie star, even.

But there was something unnerving and out-of-place in his demeanor. Something in his cold eyes that didn't match the warmness of his smile. Something...familiar.

If only I could remember...

"I'm glad you slept well, Wife." He murmured, leaning forward to kiss my forehead. My eyes trained on his fingers, unclenching from the bed to fall rigid at his side.

Wife?

I prayed the man couldn't feel my fear through the thinness of my skin -- the raised hairs, the droplets of sweat, and the hot blood scorching beneath.

But he only stepped back stiffly,

"Well...I'm going to go check on the food. Dinner should be done by the time you've finished getting dressed."

My heart dropped to my stomach.

Dinner? Hadn't he said breakfast?

The man shot me another plastic, empty-eyed smile before correcting himself,

"No, wait, my mistake...Hazel gets dinner. Your breakfast is almost ready, Wife."

Hazel? Who was Hazel?

Then, like something out of a movie, the stranger cut me short with a loud thud. Without so much as a word, the man with the spine-chilling smile had leapt swiftly out the window.

Hadn't he?

No, surely I was hallucinating...

Right?

I stumbled from my bed and lurched towards the open window frame. But, when my hands reached for where I'd seen his disappearing figure, I was halted by a barrier of my own murky reflection.

The glass was warm and foggy, pieces of sunlight scattering through in fragments.

The lock was welded shut.

That man couldn't have jumped...It was impossible. My bedroom window was closed.

But...hadn't it been open?

No, of course not.

It was all just a dream.

And I was asleep, wasn't I?

But... if it was real...

As my anxiety skyrocketed, my body took to autopilot, darting to the bathroom.

What if I had been kidnapped?

If I had been drugged?

If I was...awake...

I needed to shower. I need to wake up. I needed to wake up.

I stepped into the fuchsia acrylic free stand tub and wrapped a shaky palm around the handle but...

Nothing.

No water?

The windows were locked. The man had stood by my bed, gripping at the bed frame. He had watched me in my room and now the shower has no water.

He'd called me "Wife".

I needed a weapon. I needed to break the mirror. I needed to unhatch the windows. I needed to cry. I needed to vomit. I needed to wake up.

I needed to get out.

Something was very wrong.

I pinched the bare skin across my wrist sharply, but reeled back when there was no feeling.

I felt my breathing constrict suddenly, as if hands pawed at my lungs, and folded with the onslaught of a panic attack.

Finally, in a terrifying whoosh of black, the world around me flashed, and I was back sitting across from him at a bubblegum pink dining room table.

...

Blink once.

Blink twice.

"Wife, eat up! I'm sure you're hungry."

The man's cold eyes watched me strictly, so I smiled politely.

I knew then that it didn't matter what was real and what was fantasy. It didn't matter what was happening or how I'd gotten here.

At least until this dream ends, I just needed to play house.

"Ah, thank you...Husband." I purred fondly.

The stranger's smile confirmed that I'd given an acceptable response.

So I let my eyes lower to the table, mouth watering as my eyes feasted on the heavenly spread.

"Husband" had prepared a fantastic array of eggs, bacon, sausage, buttered toast, and pancakes. Though, I hated to admit it, everything looked incredible. Like him, the food was uncomfortably perfect.

But what looked delicious, I noticed, smelled of nothing. No warm aroma of batter and sizzling meat and sweetness. Everything only held that familiar muted fragrance of chemical. Of acrylic paint and plastics.

I hesitated, eyes glued to Husband's empty plate.

When his stare once again found mine, I bit down on my tongue, drawing blood in the process.

I just needed to play house.

"Eat up." Husband encouraged, or maybe commanded.

"You changed my clothes?" I responded in a whisper, hoping to change the subject.

When I'd peered down at the table, my pajamas had been replaced with a soft pink embroidered dress and glossy pearl buttons.

Husband's face seemed to pale at my assumption,

"Ah, no. Not me."

His hand raised to scratch the back of his neck.

This time Husband was the one changing the conversation.

"Oh, by the way, Wife...Our youngest daughter..."

"Hazel?" I guessed bravely, recalling the name he'd spoken earlier.

Except the expression on his face was that of pure horror.

No, no, no...

I'd messed up.

I'd said the wrong thing.

All I had to do was play along!

"Baby..." he breathed.

"Yes?"

"No, no...our youngest daughter, Baby."

That chilling, plastic smile was back.

"...Baby?"

"Yes, dear. All of the kids. Baby, Crayon Face, My BFF Samantha, Son 1, Son 2, Spaghetti, and Bear. They're all still with Grandma but she said she'll be dropping them back off soon."

"Wife and Husband! The kids and Bear were on their best behavior."

And once again, as if some absurd curtain had been called, a little old lady spontaneously appeared before us. Along with her, smiling their big plastic grins, now stood a small soccer team of picture-perfect little children.

Focus.

Breathe.

I don't have kids.

None of this is real.

I just needed to play house.

"Daddy, can I take Bear for a walk?"

At this, a small golden retriever materialized from behind the dining table, wagging his tail excitedly as his slobber dripped across the floor.

"Of couse, Crayon Face. And take your sister My BFF Samantha with you too!"'

"Well, I have to go now...Hazel is tired. I'll see you both for Baby's wedding," Grandma crooned.

Again, that name - Hazel. And...

"Wedding?!' I exclaimed.

That toddler-"

I looked back at the child Husband and Grandma called Baby, only to find that the waddling toddler from moments ago had transformed into a fully grown woman in a white veil and wedding dress.

"Mommy, how is my dress?"

And then, for a final time, my heart stopped.

There was nothing left -- I was losing my mind.

This was clearly a cruel and sinister joke. There was no playing along. There was nothing to appease. There was no leaving here, and there never had been. There was only insanity and whatever hellish curse I'd been bestowed in this nauseating pink house.

Husband's eyes met mine, still cold and knowing. Empty eyes and the plastered, spine-chilling smile.

He was the culprit.

I walked around the table, nearly tripping over Bear, and leaned until my lips were a breath away from his ear.

"Just tell me...Are you doing all of this?" I begged,

"Are you in control?"

But, surprisingly, only fear seeped from his careful expression. Husband glanced at me pointedly with a look I'd never seen, muscles finally moving as he shushed me, almost imperceptibly.

"Honey..."

His quivering voice dropped to something unrecognizable, a child in the shell of a man.

"We don't have control..."

He nudged anxiously at somewhere behind me,

"She controls us all."

I paused, digesting Husband's words, before slowly, for the first time ever, turning around.

How had I never turned around?

How had I never noticed what had watched us this whole time?

How had I missed such an important detail?

I froze at the enormous spectacle of horror before me, and the air turned thick.

The Monster observed us with a terrifying toothless scowl.

Her features were like that of a young girl, but she towered over us mightily like a giant.

Raindrops of slobber dribbled from the corners of her mouth and a glassiness held her eyes. Hunger.

She peered into the house from where I'm sure a wall had once been...hadn't it?

Hadn't it?

And then she laughed maniacally, a thunderous roar that shook the entire complex violently. I wondered if even falling to our knees before this god could save us now.

"Hazel, it's time for dinner!" Another blood-curdlingly large Monster warned from the distance.

"Okay, Mommy!"

We're going to die.

We're going to die.

We're going to die.

What happened next was quick.

First, the smaller Monster's massive fist wrapped around Husband, dangling him cruelly above the kitchen floor.

Husband's eyes shut solemnly as he accepted his fate. But I gasped in horror when his entire right arm, from shoulder to knuckle, dropped with a familiar sickly plop onto the pink kitchen table.

We're going to die.

Grandma was next. The monster dragged her savagely by the head before barbarically slinging her frail figure into the unknown. I winced when I heard a hard, feral thud.

Salty tears filled my throat.

At last, when the monster's greedy hand reached for me, I didn't cry or scream or beg. Like Husband, I stayed perfectly still.

"Please, not the kids!" I wanted to shout, "Not Bear!" but I already knew it was too late.

I wasn't in control.

Because we'd never had control.

And as its chubby fingers enveloped me tightly, sealing my fate, Hazel mumbled to herself incomprehensibly.

"Mommy, I finished putting my Barbies away!"