So, this is a sequel to Irene. Personally I can't say I'm not happy with this story considering I wrote it in a little less than an hour and a half. But I think I may've lost a bit of the main character in this one. Anyway, all reviews welcome except ones critiquing my grammar.

Eliza Thorn

Bring Me to Life

Dianna

Two months, it has been two months since my beloved Irene killed herself. It’s been two months since she shattered my heart along with herself. I can remember my father’s fury when he found out she had been shattered, as if he knew her. He hadn’t known her, not like I had. That made me so mad, he didn’t know ANYTHING!

I wasn’t allowed in the work shop for a month, I didn’t care. I still haven’t gone in there, it hurts too much. Where did I go wrong? I envisioned this amazing, feminine, strong woman and she killed herself! That’s it, I realized, she was too strong, she was too independent.

I flung the door to my room open and ran into the work shop. I would not leave this room until I was done. First I sat and thought of what I wanted to make, and then I set to work.

I didn’t leave the workshop for a whole day, I was at a point that needed time so I took the chance to eat a few carrots, go to the bathroom, take a shower, and change into clean clothes. Then, as fast as I could, I returned to the work shop and waited before I continued to work on the doll.

She was beautiful, not in the way Irene had been, rather Dianna held an innocent beauty to her. That’s the way I envisioned her, innocent and carefree like a child. She was beautiful, Dianna had golden locks in cork-screw curls around her face, a look of happiness adorned her cherub face and her blue dress made her own blue eyes pop. She was made just as well as Irene, and she was even in a more difficult position. She looked as though she were running, playing tag. Her eyes sparkled in playfulness and I could almost hear her laughter tinkling like a bell. I hoped and prayed that I would see her. That she would join me in this plane like Irene had.

Dianna didn’t come to school; I fear she didn’t join the world of the living. No! She’s alive, she is, I know it. I can feel it! I’ll search for her, and she’ll come home, safe. I’ll take care of her, and she’ll never be unhappy.

Five days, it’s been five days since I began my search and I had yet to find her. I rubbed my face tiredly as I walked past an alley. I paused in my step, I heard crying. I don’t know why it distressed me so much; the sound practically ripped my broken heart out of my chest.

I couldn’t stand that sound, so I went towards it, into the alley. It grew louder before it turned into sniffling. I looked around a trashcan and saw the top of a golden head. Despite the fact that she was dirty, her hair a knotted mess, her dress ripped and stained I recognized her. It was Dianna, I had finally found her!

I knelt down in front of her and asked softly, “Hey, are you lost?” She didn’t look at me; she just bobbed her head while wiping her blue eyes. “I’ll give you a place to stay if you want.”

Even though I didn’t think she would respond like Irene I couldn’t help but be cautious of my wording. No I knew she wouldn’t, I had made sure of that.

Dianna raised her head; her eyes were glassy, puffy, and red. Her cheeks were stained and there was dirt on one rosy cheek. Her blue eyes stared at me in awe, as if she didn’t expect me to be real. I gave her a reassuring smile and in a quiet, meek, and cracked voice she finally spoke.

“Really,” the sound of her hope filled my ears and I couldn’t help but feel guilty for leaving her all alone for such a long time?

I nodded and said, “Yeah.” My Dianna flung her arms around me and cried. She said ‘thank you’ continuously, no matter what I did over the course of five minutes made her stop.

When she finally loosened her death grip on me I leaned back and wiped the tears from her cheeks. I led her back to my, our, home, holding her hand all the way.

I handed her an oversized T-shirt and some boxers, and I told her how to bathe. After wards, when she had dressed in the clothing I had given her, even though the shirt was backwards, I asked her what her name was.

Dianna became very skittish and wouldn’t look at me. In a quiet voice, so quiet I had to ask her to repeat herself. And she did, a tiny bit louder. She told me that she didn’t know, ashamed of herself. I smiled reassuringly at her and said that was alright. Her head snapped up so quickly that I feared the porcelain would break. Her eyes held disbelief in them and in a childish gesture her eyes switched between both of mine as she tried to look in both at the same time.

“Is it alright if I call you Dianna?” I asked her. She gave me a broad smile and practically leaped into my arms. I breathed in the scent of her damp hair and smiled into it. I made a promise to myself that no one would hurt her, and that I would take care of her.

I can’t believe how long it’s been since that day. It’s been over seventy years; I’m over eighty now. I can’t remember how much older, but I think I’m near the age of ninety. I can’t keep track anymore, it’s been far too long. My haggard appearance could only thank time, but my darling Dianna remained the same as the day I saw her underneath all that dirt and grime. I was staring at the wall again, and she came in. I wish I had the strength to turn my head to look at her as she entered the room but I didn’t.

She was wearing the blue dress I made for her original, after that day I made sure that more of that dress was made for her. And since that day she’s had a smile on her face. I did keep my promise; I took care of her and spoiled her like a father would spoil their daughter. To my delight, she never tried to leave, not once. At the beginning I had to keep her hidden from my parents but I soon left to live on my own with only my ward to keep me company.

Since the day I left I hadn’t spoken to my parents, and I wonder if that was the wrong thing to do. It didn’t matter; they’d been dead for years now. That made me wonder what would happen when I died, leaving Dianna was simply out of the question. Giving her to someone else to cherish was too. They’d never do it right, I was the only one that would ever cherish my darling!

Dianna left to go play outside then and in me resolution to ensure she was never without me I some how found the strength to get out of bed and shuffle my was to my closet. In my closet was the original Dianna, and for some reason that I can’t recall a hammer. My gnarled and wrinkled hands picked up the hammer and I gazed at the happy face of my darling. I wanted that image etched in my mind forever.

My tattered heart broke even more as I brought the hammer down upon her, my weakened state no longer allowed me the strength to hold it. She shattered and I heard the one I had nurtured for years scream as she died. My heart stopped, broken, aged, and strained, it would not allow me to live without her any longer and I as I faded into darkness I was fine with that. I knew, I’d see my darling Dianna again, and maybe, just maybe I’d see my love Irene too. Then, then we could all be a happy family.