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they were meant to create.
    Just like I had been.
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    I saw dolls standing around; dolls with no faces. Some were
    broken some were missing pieces. I crossed the room to the
    nearest doll and ran my fingers down its face then I reached up
    and felt my patch that the boy had given me.
    This wasn’t a place of death; it didn’t have that smell that
    would sometimes creep out of any one of London’s workrooms.
    These dolls felt different than I did. They had a damp smell to
    them, but it wasn’t something that struck fear in me.
    Looking down at one of the large tables, I noticed pins and
    needles, tattered design books, and shredded pieces of cloth lying all over. There was a thin layer of dust covering almost every inch of it so I knew that this place had been abandoned for some time,
    but why?
    To me these were discarded treasures.
    I let out the breath I didn’t realize I had been holding.
    I’m home.
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    Four
    I slept soundly that night. I had no fear of anything for the
    first time in what felt like an eternity. I had found my way up to the third floor where there small cots and laid there staring out the window until my insides slowed to a dull whir. I didn’t dream that night either which to me was a blessing.
    When I awoke that dawn I felt a little different. The
    consistency of the parts inside of me weren’t as prominent as they had been so many times before but they were more than enough
    to allow me to become alert again.
    I push myself up to a seated position and stretch my arms over
    my head. I felt a couple of small readjustments in my shoulders
    that for some reason made me feel slightly better. I swung my
    legs over the side of the cot and got to my feet. I felt something soft underneath my foot which I bent down to pick up. It was my
    hooded jacket; I hadn’t even realized I had taken it off. Tossing it onto the cot I glanced around in the dim light of the newborn day.
    I jumped. I couldn’t help it; I didn’t realize there was a mirror
    in this room. I looked away from it for a moment, but my eyes
    kept moving back toward it. Now was the time for my first act of
    bravery and I knew it.
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    If I had enough courage to run from London, I had enough
    courage to do what needed to be done. I turned back toward the
    mirror and began to make my way to it. I wanted to be able to
    face myself and know that even though I wasn’t finished and
    never would be that this would no longer be something that could
    taunt me and make me feel insignificant.
    The closer I got to it the more I realized that this was a full
    sized mirror, not like the one’s she had hung around my room.
    Not broken pieces mended together in odd shapes and angles to
    make me look like a sideshow freak. I didn’t look as distorted as
    she had allowed me to believe.
    Once I was within ten feet of it, I took myself in.
    The hair that she had harvested for me was golden brown, soft
    looking, and wild. It stood up at certain angles but I think that was because I hadn’t had the time to care for it properly. I looked into my face. My eyes or the one I had was large, round, and black. I
    could see the fear in it that she had inflicted in me starting to
    slowly fade. Now I was able to look at the patch that Jared had
    won for me, it was the same color as my eye with a small spider
    web etched into it and he was right about one thing; it did cover
    most of the scarring on my face. Only a small wisp of where I had
    been stitched showed at the bottom.
    My nose made me smile. It wasn’t large and it wasn’t small. It
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    seemed to fit the frame of my face which to me said that she had
    harvested my head from one person. At least one part of me was
    more whole than any other. My jaw seemed strong, but not too
    square. I leaned into the mirror a little closer and saw that my lips had slight scarring on them but nothing too drastic. They were
    slightly full but not painfully so.
    Stepping back I realized that