The Porcelain Doll’s Broken World

The day I was diagnosed with Dependent Personality Disorder, my therapist told me, Your world can't exist without Noah's love.

I became his emotional porcelain doll.

He put me before everything, even canceling major projects just to be with me during my therapy sessions. The day my condition finally stabilized, he broke into a genuine smile for the first time in months.

But his childhood friend, Sophie, just smirked. "See? I told you it was never that serious. Wasn't it just my dear Kathy's little trick to keep Noah wrapped around her finger?"

That was the first time he ever laid a hand on Sophie. He physically pushed her back, forcing her to apologize to me.

But tonight, when Sophie went out drinking, all I did was whisper that I was feeling a little anxious.

Noah slammed the bottle of pills onto the counter. "Can't you stop being so selfish for once? Sophie's heartbroken over her breakup!" His voice was ragged. "My entire life revolves around you. Can't I take a few hours to be there for her? Just a few hours?"

"If you want to have an episode, then go ahead. I'm done. I've had enough!"

He kicked the pills, scattering them across the floor, snatched his car keys, and slammed the door behind him.

I didn't say a word. I just stared at the angry red scratches my own nails had left on my wrist, each breath growing shorter and more difficult than the last.

...

I scrambled to pick up the pills.

I swallowed several, but they did nothing. The panic was still climbing my throat.

My therapist's words echoed in my mind. "Your body has developed a tolerance to the medication. But the person you truly depend on, the one who gives you a sense of security, is Noah."

My hand trembled as I reached for my phone to call him.

But the only response was a cold, mechanical voice repeating, "The person you are trying to reach is unavailable."

Then I remembered. Sophie hated how Noah was always with me.

I tried to calm myself down, to ride out the wave of panic on my own. But as I sank into the sofa, my eyes caught something tucked into the cushions: a pair of black lace panties that weren't mine.

Ugly images flooded my mind, a sickening slideshow of betrayal.

My breathing became a desperate, ragged gasp.

I rushed to the cabinet where we kept the emergency oxygen tank. But inside, there was no tank. There was only a stack of photos of Noah and Sophie. In several of them, their lips were pressed together.

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. With a cry, I swept the entire photo album onto the floor. The sound of shattering glass filled the apartment, and a sharp pain shot through my hand. Blood dripped, staining the smiling faces on the paper.

The chaos on the floor, the wreckage I'd created, suddenly brought Noahs exhausted face to my mind.

"Kathy, what do you want from me? What do I have to do to stop you from having these episodes?"

He must be so sick of me, so tired of the mess I always make.

A new wave of panic, this time laced with shame, washed over me. I had to clean it up. I had to make it right.

But I'd barely taken two steps before the world began to spin, tilting violently on its axis. Horrifying voices clawed at the edges of my hearing, whispering and screaming.

I was terrified. I stumbled into the bedroom and locked myself in the closet. The small, dark space offered a fleeting moment of relief from the crushing anxiety.

I missed Noah so much it was a physical ache.

After a moment's hesitation, I called Sophie. She'd told me once I could call her if I ever needed anything.

One ring, two...

She actually answered. The background was filled with the thumping bass of a nightclub and the clinking of glasses.

"God, why are you so relentless?" she sighed into the phone.

"Sophie, I don't feel well... I need to see..."

The phone was snatched away, and Noah's voice, raw with impatience, cut through the noise.

"You never feel well!" he snapped. "Can you stop with the act? I'm just trying to cheer Sophie up, is that too much to ask?"

"You're twenty-five years old, for God's sake. Can you stop playing these childish games?"

The line went dead. The faint glow of the screen in the pitch-black closet illuminated my tear-streaked face.

Noah was right. I wasn't a child anymore. I was a burden, dragging him down, ruining his life. I didn't deserve a boyfriend as good as him.

My hand brushed against one of his shirts hanging beside me. I pulled it down, wrapping it around myself. It still carried his scent, the same one that used to surround me every time he held me. I greedily breathed in the familiar mix of sandalwood and clean linen, pretending he was here, whispering his usual comfort, "I'm here. Don't be afraid."

I don't know how much time passed. My breathing slowed, grew shallow, until it felt like it might stop altogether. The last sliver of light from under the door vanished.

I closed my eyes, and my life flickered past like a broken film.

Maybe my death would be a release for everyone.

Noah would no longer have to sacrifice million-dollar deals for me. Sophie wouldn't have to throw tantrums because her childhood friend was paying too much attention to me. And I... I wouldn't have to pretend to my therapist that I was getting better when I was only getting worse.

I gave up the idea of pushing the closet door open.

I buried my face in his shirt, imagining he had come home to hold me as I fell asleep.

When I opened my eyes again, I was looking at myself, my body curled into a stiff, unnatural position in the corner of the closet.

So this is what it felt like to be free.

My spirit drifted through the apartment as Noah returned, carrying a drunken Sophie in his arms.

"Noah... I love you so much..." she mumbled, her tone soft and intimate. It sent a sharp, phantom pain through my chest.

Noah didn't push her away. He just gently laid her down on the sofa.

"I'll go make you something to help with the hangover."

As he walked past the mess on the floor, he paused. "Why are there so many of our photos here?"

"Weren't those the ones we took the other day? I thought they looked good, so I had them printed," Sophie murmured, her words slightly slurred. "Looks like your precious Kathy was throwing another fit. She called and screamed at me earlier..."

She was faking it. She wasn't that drunk.

She rolled over, letting the strap of her dress slip from her shoulder.

Noah just sighed. "Don't stoop to her level. She's crazy. I'll take you to get new prints tomorrow."

He turned and went into the kitchen, acting as if I had never existed in this home.

My teeth clenched. A hollow space opened up inside me.

A moment later, Sophie swayed into the kitchen, wrapping her arms around Noah from behind. "It's been so long since I've had your cooking."

Ever since my diagnosis, I'd had a severe stress reaction whenever I saw Sophie. Noah had forbidden her from coming to our apartment. But now, he was letting her fingers trail over his skin. He even playfully tapped her nose with a familiarity that was both intimate and utterly devastating.

"This is nice," she purred. "It feels just like the old days."

Under the warm, orange glow of the kitchen lights, they looked like they might kiss at any second.

Soon, the fragrant smell of food filled the air as they sat down at the table.

"I'll go get Kathy," Noah said, starting to get up.

"Don't," Sophie said, grabbing his wrist. "It's so late. She hasn't made a sound, she obviously doesn't want to see me. I really don't want her to have another meltdown."

Noah hesitated for a second, then sat back down. It was a silent agreement.

Sophie smiled, then pouted playfully, asking him to feed her the soup. "You used to always bring it to my bed and feed me whenever I got drunk. Ever since you got a girlfriend, I barely feel like you care about me at all!"

Noah sighed, a mix of fondness and exasperation on his face, and began to feed her, one spoonful at a time.

"You know how Kathy is with her illness. I know it's been hard on you lately."

"It's okay. Now that she's all better, we can go back to how things were," Sophie said, a triumphant glint in her eyes.

I remembered how she was always a part of our life, a third wheel who always needed to be cared for. I had protested more times than I could count, but Noahs response was always the same.

"Sophie's like a sister to me. She was spoiled growing up. You should be more understanding."

My anger had slowly curdled into numbness. And then, one day, I was diagnosed.

Looking back, those dark, difficult days were the closest Noah and I had ever been.

Just then, Buddy, our cat who was always sneaking out, slipped back into the apartment. He meowed a few times, looking for me, before the smell of food drew him to the table.

"Ugh, it's filthy!" Sophie shrieked, batting at Buddy as he tried to jump up.

Noah grabbed the cat and dropped him unceremoniously on the floor.

"Where's your mom? Didn't she feed you?" he muttered, his voice laced with annoyance. Then he raised his voice, shouting towards the bedroom. "Kathy! What kind of tantrum is this? You're not even feeding your own cat now?"

"Get out here! Sophie's already upset about her breakup, and you have to pull this stunt now to bully her?"

The anger in his voice grew with every word.

He had bought Buddy for me to help with my anxiety. I adored that cat. But now, I could only float helplessly beside him as his stomach rumbled.

Buddy seemed to sense me. His fur stood on end, and he let out a frightened hiss. In his panic, he leaped, knocking over a bowl of soup. It splashed all over Sophie.

She screamed. "All I did was ask you to spend a few hours with me today! Why does she have to be so petty?"

Noah grabbed a glass and hurled it in the cat's direction. "Stupid animal! Get out!"

He glared towards the bedroom door. "You can tell your mother that if she doesn't come out and apologize today, she can forget about me sleeping in the same bed with her!"

"Kathy! I know you can hear me! My patience is wearing thin!"

I stood right in front of him, trying desperately to explain. But no one could hear me.

Buddy scrambled into a corner, terrified.

A thousand words were trapped in my throat, but the only one that mattered was "I'm sorry."

Noah carried Sophie to the bathroom to clean up. "I didn't bring a change of clothes," she cooed. "I want to wear one of your shirts."

Steam billowed out from the bathroom, filling the apartment with a thick, suggestive air.

When Noah came out, he pulled out his phone and opened our chat.

"I was a little harsh earlier, but Sophie really is innocent in all this."

"Come on out. Stop playing hide-and-seek with me. I'm really tired tonight."

"There's nothing going on between Sophie and me. You have to stop being so paranoid."

He sent a stream of voice messages as he walked toward the bedroom. He knew that whenever I had an episode, I would hide. Sometimes it would take him hours to find me.

"I brought you your favorite cupcake. If you don't come out soon, the frosting will melt."

He flicked on the bedroom light, his gaze sweeping over the empty bed. He sighed, pressing the voice record button with one hand while the other rested on the closet door handle.

My non-existent heart began to pound. What would he do if he saw my body? Would he be sad? Or would he be relieved?

As his hand turned the handle, my heart was in my throat. I could see half of my own body as the door swung open.

But Noah's attention was still on his phone. He continued his voice message barrage, and without even looking down, he reached in and pulled out the very shirt I had wrapped around myself.

I wanted to scream, to tell him to stop, but no sound came out.

The closet door clicked shut, plunging my body back into darkness.

I looked at the cupcake on the nightstand, its frosting slowly liquefying in the warm air. A wave of regret washed over me. He had promised we would always eat cake together.

I sat on the edge of the bed, imagining Noah beside me, telling me to make a wish.

Soon, Sophie emerged from the bathroom, her hair dripping wet. The shirt was short, barely covering her, and the damp fabric clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination.

"Since Kathy doesn't want to come out, can I dry my hair in your room?" she purred.

Noah frowned, his eyes flicking to the unanswered messages on his phone. But he still carried her to the bed.

He was so gentle as he dried her hair. I felt a disorienting sense of dj vu. When he used to do that for me, was he thinking of Kathy, or was it always Sophie?

"Noah," Sophie began, her voice suddenly serious. "To be honest, she's not good enough for you."

The sound of the hairdryer stopped.

Sophie looked up, her eyes filled with a predatory hunger. "You two are from different worlds. Are you really going to throw your whole life away for her, just because she saved you that one time?"

"You've already given up so much for her! Forget the fact that she's mentally ill noweven if she wasn't, do you really think your parents would ever let you marry her?"

Noah stood frozen, his expression unreadable.

Sophie wrapped her arms around his neck. "Just think about it. How much money have you lost because of that woman? Your parents are furious. Our families, on the other hand... we're a perfect match. A true power couple."

She was right. I was just an ordinary girl.

I met Noah when he was working his way up from the bottom of his family's company. Like all the other female employees, I had a crush on him from afar. Three years ago, during an accident on a construction site, I pushed him out of the way of a falling chandelier.

Things just happened after that. I never expected him to ask me out. In the beginning, we were happy. But Sophie's constant interference led to more and more fights. I still remembered her warning: "A girl like you is just a toy for Noah. Don't get any ideas."

Looking at them now, so close, they did look perfect together. Sophie was the one who could stand by his side for the rest of his life.

Maybe my death could put him back on the right path. It would be worth it.

I glanced at my body in the closet. It was good. No more episodes. No more being a burden.

But then, Noah pushed Sophie away.

"Stop talking nonsense. You're like a sister to me."

"But I love you!" Sophie's voice became a desperate shriek. "Am I not even better than that pathetic wretch?"

"That's enough!" Noah snapped, unplugging the hairdryer. He told her to get out.

"This isn't something you can just decide. Feelings don't work that way," he said, his voice strained. "I do love her. And her condition is almost completely managed. We're about to have a normal life together. I'll handle my parents. I'm about to be financially independent anyway. I've already bought a house. I'm going to propose when the time is right."

A sharp pang went through my soul.

I had asked him about Sophie countless times. He always gave vague, evasive answers, just telling me to wait. I always thought I was just a dalliance for him, or maybe just an obligation he felt because I'd saved his life.

If he had said those words to me, just once, when I was alive... maybe my illness would never have gotten so severe.

Sophie, refusing to give up, tore open the front of the shirt. "Then say it to my face! Tell me you feel nothing for me!"

Noah scrambled to cover her with the blanket. "How many times do I have to tell you? I only see you as my sister! You know I had a sister who died! It was my fault! I wasn't watching her, and she ran into the street!"

Sophie froze, staring at him in disbelief. "So... everything you've ever done for me... it was all just to make up for what happened to your sister?"

"You could see it that way," he said quietly.

Even though I couldn't cry, I felt my spectral eyes begin to burn. All this time, I had never truly believed him about Sophie. The memories of our countless fights flooded my mind, all because I had pushed him, again and again, for an explanation.

I wanted to hold him, to tell him I was sorry. But everything I had seen, everything I had felt... the pain was real.

A wave of grief and regret washed over me, so heavy it felt like it was weighing down my very soul.

Noah left the bedroom and began to search the apartment, checking all the places I used to hide.

"Kathy, please come out. I'm sorry, okay? I really do want a home with you, but I can't live like this, walking on eggshells every day, terrified that one wrong word will set you off."

His assistant called. As he took the call, his brow furrowed deeper and deeper. He sighed, sat on the sofa, and opened his laptop. I could see the urgent messages about a project in crisis.

I hadn't had a chance to just look at him like this in so long. Fine lines had appeared at the corners of his eyes, and the dark circles were too deep to hide.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "You're already so tired, and you still had to take care of me. Take care of yourself from now on. I'm not worth it."

I knelt beside him, my hand passing straight through his body. He seemed to sense something, a sudden chill perhaps, and glanced in my direction.

Just then, a scream echoed from the bedroom.

I jolted. Sophie must have found my body.

But when Noah rushed in, she was clutching her wrist, tears streaming down her face.

"Kathy just ran out of the closet and stabbed me!"

"But I'm already dead!"

The blatant, absurd lie was almost comical.

Noah's furious gaze fell on the open closet door. From his angle, he could only see the lower half of my curled-up body.

"That's it! Get out here and apologize!" he roared. "Don't you dare use your illness as an excuse again! You don't get to hurt people!"

When I didn't move, his voice rose to a terrifying pitch.

"Kathy! I have given you enough chances! If you continue with this ridiculous behavior, I swear I am going to lose it!"

With that, he reached in to drag me out.

I threw myself in front of him, screaming "Don't touch me!" but it was useless. I didn't want him to see me like this, even in death.

But I could only watch, helpless, as his hand closed around my wrist.

There was a dull thud as my body, like a pale, broken statue, fell out of the closet and onto the floor.

The world seemed to fall silent in that instant.

Noah stared at his own hand in disbelief, clearly shocked by the cold, rigid feel of my skin.

Sophie started shouting beside him. "She's faking! She stabbed me, and now she's pretending to be unconscious so she won't get in trouble!"

She moved forward, grabbing Noah's arm with her "injured" hand. "Noah, I'm so scared... but she's your girlfriend. For your sake, I won't call the police. Just make her get up. Stop messing around in the middle of the night."

Noah's brow furrowed, his eyes fixed on my still form on the floor, a storm of emotions churning within them.

"Kathy, stop it."

"I know you're angry that I was with Sophie, but hurting her was going too far!"

"Get up. We'll talk this out. I won't hold it against you."

My soul crouched down beside my body. I could see my own skin, pale and waxy from asphyxiation, my lips already turning a dark shade of blue. I looked terrifying.

Noah waited a few seconds. When I didn't move, he finally knelt down.

He gave my shoulder a gentle push. "Kathy?"

My body swayed with the movement, as stiff as a frozen side of meat.

"Stop pretending," he said, a note of irritation creeping into his voice. "I have a lot of work to do. I have a crucial meeting early tomorrow morning..."

He shook me again, this time with more force.

But my body remained limp and rigid.

Suddenly, Noah's hand froze. His gaze locked onto my face. He reached out and placed his warm palm against my cheek.

One second. Two. Three.

His expression began to shift from annoyance to confusion, then to dawning horror.

"Why... why are you so cold?"

"Kathy?" he whispered, his voice trembling slightly.

No response.

"Kathy!" he shouted, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me violently. "Wake up! Don't you dare scare me like this!"

My body lolled back and forth like a marionette with its strings cut, my head hanging at an unnatural angle.

His voice was cracking. "Wake up! I said wake up, do you hear me!"

He pulled me into his arms, holding me tight against his chest. My head rested on his shoulder for a moment before sliding limply off.

"This isn't right... this isn't right..." Noah's voice was a choked, broken thing. He started patting my cheeks. "Open your eyes, Kathy. Open your eyes and look at me!"

It was as if reality finally crashed down on him.

He stopped all movement, his body going rigid. Then, with a shaking hand, he reached for the space just under my nose.