A Kidnapping in a Library

Alright, let’s see what this place is about. This is the biggest library I’ve ever seen. There’s like six floors!

Ugh… An empty spot on the shelf, right where the book I need should be. Big as this library is, you’d think they wouldn’t be missing anything. I’ll just ask the lady at the desk.

But as I approach, I notice that her raised eyebrows and her pursed mouth don’t give off a very inviting feeling. They just don’t.

“What can I do for you?” she asks, with a crooked smile that wouldn’t win any awards. Why is she irritated right off the jump? Long hours?

“Well… well, I’m looking for this book.”

She looks at me with an eyebrow raised.

“It’s called Valley of the Dolls. I checked the shelves already, but do you happen to have it? I thought it might be misplaced.”

Nothing.

“Could you check on one of the carts?”

Still nothing. Her stare might drill a hole straight through my eyeballs.

“…Or maybe you could check a different library?”

For a hot second, she looks at me with a hint of disgust, then sucks her teeth.

“Hm.” The old librarian rolls her eyes. “Let me see.”

Yeah, I can tell she’s annoyed. Folks have probably been annoying her about missing books all day. I’ll just have to make this quick.

“Our chain doesn’t have it.” She purses her lips again.

“Aw man…” Six floors, and this library doesn’t have the book?

“There was one in Paterson,” she says. Does the Paterson library have six floors?

“That’s great!”

“They lost it.”

“Lost it?” Do people not respect books anymore these days? How could they lose it?

“Yes, the person who checked it out. They lost it,” the librarian says, folding her bony white fingers together. Her beady eyes dare me to protest.

“Tsk. Alright, I suppose.”

I can sort of see the faintest smile beginning to creep onto her pale, wrinkled face. It seems genuine. Maybe she’s lightened up a bit. “Well, you can always find it online. I can try to — ”

“Ehhh… No thank you. I’d rather have it in my hand, you know? It’s just different online. I don’t know how to explain.”

Her tense shoulders relax, and her stare softens. “No, I completely understand,” she says.

Maybe it was all in my head. Not everyone’s out to get you. I should try not to be so anxious. She’s an older woman, so she might just be tired of sitting in this library all day. She probably hasn’t had a nice conversation in a while.

“Anyways, thank you for checking,” I say with a smile. The librarian returns it warmly. She’s not so ornery after all! She seems nice, even.

“You’re so well-spoken.”

“Uh.” Never mind, I guess.

“I don’t see your kind often.” Now she’s looking at me almost like a proud mother.

“You don’t?”

What is this old lady talking about? Don’t see your kind. What the hell is that supposed to mean? As big as this library is, I’m sure there’s all sorts of people coming through here.

“Can I shake your hand?” she asks, almost hungrily.

What the hell? “Uh, okay. I guess.”

I reach out for her hand, but before I can grab it, I notice she’s holding something between her fingers. It looks like a tiny bottle of perfume. Before I can think twice, the old librarian squeezes the trigger and blows something in my face, and I start to feel dizzy.

“Whoaaaaa,” I slur. It feels like a wave just went over me. “Whaddid you jusdo?”

My knees begin to wobble. I’ve got just enough strength to push her off me before stumbling backwards. As I’m backing away, the pocket of my shorts catches on the arm of a chair. I lose my footing and fall flat on the ground.

“Whaddid you…” I breathe. It barely comes out as a whisper. The librarian’s smile grows wider as she stands there, watching me with folded hands. Her head cocks to the side.

“What did you do!?” I ask, with more force this time. “Ugh, my head… I — ”

“Oh, you really are something else. I gotta tell ya, I really haven’t seen one as well-spoken as you yet.”

She’s grinning really wide now, thin lips stretched over yellowed teeth. She starts walking over. Why the heck is she — WHOA! Okay, she’s running!

She’s running? What the hell?

“GET AWAY FROM ME!”

She grabs my arms so hard, I know they’re gonna bruise. But for some reason, I can barely feel it.

“NO!”

How is no one noticing this?

“My word, your voice is the softest I’ve heard. Not a hint of gruffness, either.” She smiles so hard her cheeks could rip open. “I’ll just have to bring you with me. Put you with the others.”

“Get away!” I shout feebly. My body’s gone totally numb.

Finally, someone notices the commotion. It’s an old man passing by on one of the upper levels.

“Hey!” He’s running down the stairs. “Come on, now. Let the kid go. What’re ya doin’?”

“Oh, hush now, don’t worry. I’m just gonna take her with me.” The librarian beams. “Can’t let one as pure as this go to waste. If I don’t take her now, she’ll get dingy.”

Now there’s a middle-aged woman running down the stairs, too. “What’s going on?” she yells, looking frightened. “What are you doing? Get off her!”

The woman tries to pry the librarian’s bony, wrinkled fingers from my limp body. But those bony fingers are the only thing holding me up.

I’m blacking out every few seconds; I can only see the struggle in brief flashes. As my vision grows dim, the last thing I see is a strong-looking man coming up behind the librarian and hitting her on the back of the head. She slumps forward.

We fall together, hitting the ground with a thud, and I fade to black.

My eyes flutter open, and my whole body is stiff, as though I passed out drunk the night before.

“What happened?” I croak. Objects dance in pairs before my eyes.

“Oh, you’re finally awake.”

It’s the big man from the library. His smile is as wide as that crazy old librarian’s. I can almost allow myself to believe I’ve been rescued, that he’s simply a good Samaritan, when I realize I still can’t move. The swoosh of passing cars faintly reaches my ears.

“Where am I?!” I ask in disbelief.

“Oh, that! That old hag used the same stuff I got! She was gonna keep you for herself, but this is perfect.” The large man slaps his steering wheel to the beat of the rolling thunder. “Perfect, perfect, perfect!”

Stuff? What stuff? What did that old lady do to me? I need to get out of here. This man is going to kill me. I try to turn my neck, but I can’t. All I can see is that I’m in the passenger seat of a car.

I want to jump out of the car, but I can’t move a muscle. What can I do? Tears begin to pool in my eyes. “I just wanted that book,” I whisper to myself.

“Hm?” The large man leans in close. “Book? What book?”

This guy has some nerve. If he’s going to kidnap me, how’s he going to try and have a friendly conversation? I don’t want to say another word to him, but I’m not going anywhere, am I?

“I was looking for a book,” I answer, my voice quivering.

“What’s it called?”

“It’s… Um, what was it?” I should’ve just stayed home today. Why is this happening to me? Why am I trapped in this car that smells of old, dusty plastic?

“Must not have been too important, then. What’s important now is getting you downstairs. Yes!” He laughs. Another clap of thunder. “Let’s go downstairs!”

“Please, just let me go. Just let me go! I don’t want to go downstairs.” I try to scream, so that someone driving by might hear me, but the thunder muffles the sound. Seems like it wants to see me suffer.

“Hm? Why not? It’s where you belong,” he says. “We’d get there faster if it wasn’t raining.”

Where I belong? What does that mean?

“It’s not raining.”

“It is,” he says. “Don’t you hear the thunder?”

Like clockwork, the clouds form up and begin to pour.

“Look, we’re here!” he yells. “This’ll be great!”

We pull into what looks like an old shed. He looks me over for a few seconds too long, then grabs me by the arms, pulls me out of the car, and drags my limp body toward the shed. My heels leave a trail through the mud.

There’s nothing else around. Nothing but the dark of the night and the sound of rain against the tin roof. He kicks the broken door open, dragging me toward the concrete stairs. But then he stops.

The man looks back at me as though I were a prized possession. He caresses my hair, his fingers tugging at the coils.

“Please. Please don’t do this to me.”

“Your skin. It’s such a fine texture.”

“Please,” I sob.

“Your hair. Like soft wool.”

“Where are we?” I demand, still unable to move. But he doesn’t answer. He continues to pull my soaking wet body, dragging me down, down, down, still with that wide toothy grin. A scream rips through me. It feels like my throat’s going to tear like paper. Oh God, what if it does?

The big man lifts me up, then slowly, gingerly, places me on a surprisingly clean white table compared to the rest of the dank room. “Don’t move,” he says, not that I can. “This’ll only take a minute. I just need to get the iron started.”

“Iron?!”

“Yeah!”

“For what?”

“For what?” he chuckles. “With looks like yours, you’d be perfect for my collection. I’m only doing you a favor. I’m putting you where you belong.”

“What do you mean, where I belong?” I cry. “I belong at home, with my nose deep in that book! I just want to go home.”

The big man doesn’t say a word. He just looks at me, as though I’m the one who’s confused, then chuckles. What am I supposed to do?

“Now. Should I leave you the way you as you are, or should I try a different pose?” He begins straightening out my limbs. His large hands are surprisingly gentle as they roam over me. “Hm. I guess I’ll just pose you as you’ve always been. I’m not too creative.”

When he’s done setting my body in position, he drapes a cloth over me. I try to move my legs, but it’s in vain. I can’t escape. What else can I say? If no one’s come to help me by now, my fate is sealed.

Next thing I know, there’s a searing pain that starts at my toes, plows through my stomach, and shoots to my head. I think I’ve blacked out a few times already. The hot iron runs back and forth over my body. By the time it reaches my hips, I’ve completely lost feeling in my lower half. Almost.

As it continues upward, I begin to understand the feeling more. It’s almost a weightless feeling. It feels as though I could blow away with the wind. Like paper.

The big man takes the towel away, and I feel smaller somehow. He seems even bigger, further away. And I’m fragile. I feel like if I move, my body will tear.

He reaches down and picks me up between his fingertips, slides me into a plastic pouch, then covers me with the towel again. I hear the steam from the iron, but there is no pain this time. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been through enough, or what. All I feel is heat and pressure.

The giant man reaches down and picks me up once more, and I think I catch a glimpse of my body. Surely I’ve lost my mind.

He carries me into another room and sets me down on a table. It’s a small, shabby-looking room, and the walls are lined with various dolls. He’s a man of very few possessions, it seems, besides his collection. From porcelain, to cotton, to paper, he has every kind.

The man walks over to his bookshelf. He pulls out a book, and I feel a realization beginning to sink in. As I see the title on the spine, something like anger grows inside me. Valley of the Dolls.

“This will be your home. Try not to run away.”