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"I know it doesn't look like much, but you can stay in here, at least for now," Jane said, leading Cesare down a hallway, up a flight of stairs, and through a door. "What do you think?"
He stepped forward, staring at the dusty room with its cavernous ceiling and peeling wallpaper. The floorboards creaked underfoot, despite his light step, and the gaping window was draped by yellowing, lacy curtains that may have once been white. Doesn't look like much? He blinked in disbelief, unsure of where to look first. A window? A bed? A door he could lock and unlock to his liking?
"Mine...?" he gasped, his voice trembling. He bowed low, only to see his feet standing on a rug, and felt lightheaded all over again.
"It used to be mine back when I was little, but nobody ever goes in here anymore," she explained. "I didn't want you out on the street; if anyone found you, they'd..." her voice trailed off; she wasn't about to mention that he'd end up in the asylum in the best-case scenario.
He watched her unblinkingly, wondering how he was supposed to accept such a gesture. Certainly, as kind as she had been to him, she wouldn't want to take care of him for long. If there was one thing he remembered from his days with Caligari, it was how much of a burden he always heard he was, and as much as he'd been lied to, he knew that at least was true. She shouldn't have to be stuck here tending to him, he figured; she deserved better than that. Perhaps he'd have to offer something in exchange, but he had nothing, let alone compared to what she had.
"Will... work," he promised. He was good at following orders, and none of it would be as awful as what he'd already done. "What... you want... me to do- will... do it..."
She shook her head. "I don't want you to work for me; just to live here, at least until we can figure something better out. All you have to do is stay quiet and keep us out of trouble, okay? Can you do that?"
He hesitated, then nodded. Staying quiet was another thing he was good at, but he still couldn't shake the feeling that he was taking far more than he deserved. "What do... I give you... to live here?"
"Oh; you feel like you owe me something? Well, if you insist, maybe I can find some chores for you to help with. We can worry about that later, though; you're probably very tired. Get some sleep; I'll bring you some food when I can, okay?"
He approached the bed. It seemed much too small for him, and the sheets were thin, and his feet hung off the edge, but for now, it was his. He sank down into it and emitted a contented growl, hardly able to believe his luck.
"Good night," Jane smiled, and closed the door. Cesare sat up, shivering. It was very nice to have a room, of course, but something felt odd about being alone here.
She will come back, he promised himself. If he wanted to, he could open the door, but he didn't want to run into anyone else in the house. He liked it here, he determined; it was far, far better than where he used to live. But why did something still feel... wrong?
He got up from the bed, his luminous eyes sweeping around the room as he explored it. On the nightstand nearby, he saw a framed sepia photograph depicting a stern-looking couple, a young boy, and a little girl with dark hair done into braids, practically dwarfed by the frilly skirt that poofed around her. She held a porcelain doll in one arm, and while the rest of her face looked as serious as the other people's in the portrait, her eyes looked wide and afraid, as if she had been startled by the camera flash.
While Cesare had never seen the little girl in the picture, he'd certainly seen her eyes. He twitched, examining the photo. This is... family, he determined. For some reason, his head began to hurt, and he put the picture down. He glanced again at the girl in the portrait, and ran his finger along the frame, noting the way it surrounded her.
Abandoning the portrait, he crept around the room, trying his best not to make the floorboards creak. He hadn't noticed them before, but upon turning his head, he came face to face with a row of glassy-eyed dolls, all lined up on a shelf in their lacy dresses, with the one from the picture in the center. He tilted his head, wondering why the sight of them made him uneasy, or what they were doing there in the first place. His hands shaking, he reached for the doll in the middle, nervously hesitating before grabbing it, as if it were to shriek. Of course, it stayed silent, but a sense of dread overcame him as he observed the long dark hair, the embroidered white dress and painted eyes. He suddenly recognized why the doll disturbed him so much; it reminded him of the horrible straw-filled replica of himself in the old caravan. He hadn’t thought of it at all until now, but he doubted the doll was used for the same purpose; it was much too small to be mistaken for a person. Still, the resemblance to her was uncanny, and when he put it back on the shelf, he turned it to face the opposite direction, so he didn’t have to see its awful face watching him. He did the same with the rest of the dolls, wondering how she slept as a child with them staring at her every night.
Growling to himself, he felt his way along the walls, the pastel wallpaper flaking off under his hand, until it ran into something there- a tall mirror, stretching from the floor halfway up to the ceiling. He was always taken by surprise at his own reflection; he still hadn’t gotten used to the sight of his bulging eyes and pale face, his own ribs sticking out underneath his leotard, and his gangly hands twitching at his sides. He wondered what a small child would feel looking into this mirror, every time she passed by it standing in her room. Certainly she wouldn’t feel the same revulsion with her own appearance as he did with his; was he the first hideous thing to be reflected in it? He turned away, but noticed another mirror- a smaller one- hanging on the wall opposite of him, and then one on a vanity set in the corner, and a handheld one on the floor, with a crack running down the middle. From everywhere in the room, his own dreadful eyes were reflected back at him, and he hissed, clutching his hair as he made his way back to the bed, where he pulled the covers over himself and shut his eyes, listening to the dizzying noise of his own pounding heartbeat.
He had almost fallen asleep when he heard a knock at the door, and jolted upright with a gasp. He crawled low to the ground and peered underneath, relieved to see the familiar hem of Jane’s skirt trailing on the floor. He cracked the door open, and she entered with a plate and a teacup, setting it down on the nightstand.
“Here you are,” she said. “I’m sorry it took so long; we had guests over, and you wouldn’t believe how boring the conversation was. They prattled on and on about nothing but eyeglasses and monocles; can you imagine? And of course I had to sit there and nod and act like they were talking about the most interesting thing in the world- oh, how delightful, Frau Hoffmann! What an exciting story, Herr Blumenfeld! You would have fallen asleep five seconds into it, I’m sure- and I certainly wanted to!”
Cesare blinked; he didn’t know what monocles were, but she sounded relieved to talk to him, and that was good. He looked at the plate, and poked at the food, before beginning to eat.
“Luckily,” Jane continued, “having guests meant we had dessert, so I was able to get you some cake- right there, see? Have you ever had cake?”
Cesare eyed the spongy, triangular object on the plate, and broke off a piece, biting into it. Immediately, he grabbed another fistful, shoving it into his mouth. He dipped his head up and down, blinking rapidly.
“Not too fast!” Jane cautioned, but smiled as Cesare enjoyed his meal. She handed him a napkin, showing him how to clean his hands and face, before he curled back up on the bed.
“I hope you’ll like it here,” she said, before glancing over at the shelf. “Wait; did you turn all the dolls around?”
He nodded.
“You don’t have to be scared of them,” she said, “they’re just toys. I used to love them growing up; this was my favorite.” She picked up the doll with the dark hair in the white dress. “She was a birthday present; I used to take her everywhere!”
Cesare shook his head, staring at the doll, then all the mirrors. “In… your box,” he muttered.
“What? No; this is just my old room, remember?”
“Box,” he insisted firmly.
“Well…” Jane sighed, looking down as she sat next to him. “I wouldn’t call it that, but… there are a lot of things here that- well, that’s just how they were.” She looked down at the doll in her hands. “Everything I needed in order to learn how to listen to people talk about monocles for over an hour straight.”
Cesare wondered what monocles were, figuring they must be incredibly dull.
“I’ll tell you what,” Jane said. “We’ll redecorate together. Clear out this old stuff, and find things you like; that way, it’ll feel completely different for both of us.”
“Flowers?” he said, looking up.
“Sure, if you want them!”
“And… stars…?”
“Yes, on the walls! And we can put better curtains over the windows so you can sleep more comfortably- ones with a nice pattern- and we can clean off all this dust everywhere- and maybe get the floor organized, so you can have room to dance… won’t it be wonderful?”
Cesare blinked. It did sound wonderful, but he couldn’t help but notice that Jane was far more excited about it than he was. As strange as the room was to him, he was more than satisfied with a comfortable place to sleep- and even better, with a window. But for her, maybe fixing up the old room would mean something much, much more.