THE REVENGE OF THE RAGDOLL

Beneath the deep rumble of the turning Ferris wheel, amidst the ringing bells, revving engines, and the mechanical whirs and clicks that saturated the air, came the footsteps of a few hundred people. Their voices rose in excited chatter, punctuated by gleeful screams, as though tonight might be their last.

It had been a long time since I’d walked among a crowd. I disliked it more than anything. It made me feel exposed and vulnerable. And yet, here I was—on another one of those cliché romance-story dates. And to my surprise... I was enjoying it.

I really hadn’t learned my lesson.

The lights were breathtaking. Flickering neon signs and rainbow-colored bulbs lit up the wooden stalls, the rides, the games—painting the world in a surreal glow. It did something to me. It reminded me that even amidst all the pain in my life, there was still a little joy left. Happy memories, long buried beneath layers of self-doubt, guilt, and hatred, stirred quietly within me.

“Over here,” Harold’s voice cut through my thoughts, snapping me back to the present.

I turned to my left and saw him standing in front of a game stall.

Earlier that day, we’d had coffee, taken a long walk around the neighborhood, greeted a few neighbors, and even done a little gardening together. Now, somehow, we had ended up at an amusement park—the last place I would’ve come to on my own. And the strangest part? I was having fun.

I smiled softly and walked toward him. A small crowd had gathered around the stall. A few men had already tried their luck and failed miserably. Each round cost a dollar, and judging by the number of disappointed dates, some of these guys had already spent small fortunes trying to win stuffed animals. I really couldn’t let poor Harold waste his money like that.

“What’s going on here?” I asked, playing my part in this storybook scene. I had to act as normal as possible.

“Oh, it’s a game,” Harold said, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “For a dollar, I get a shot at winning you a prize. All I have to do is toss the little white ball into the green bottle.”

“Oh.”

There were several bottles lined up on the stall—each a different color and arranged on uneven rows. The green bottle, I noticed immediately, sat at a deliberately awkward angle. It was placed just far enough and surrounded tightly by others to make the shot near impossible. From a glance, it was clear this was a scam.

“Harold, you don’t have to win me anything. We can just enjoy the rides and be on our way,” I said, gently taking his hand and trying to pull him away.

“No, no, no, wait. There’s this really cute stuffed bear I think you’d love.”

He turned me back toward the stall, slid his arm around my shoulder, and leaned in until his cheek brushed mine. “Look over there,” he said, pointing toward the top shelf.

The moment his hand rested on my shoulder, the world shifted. His voice faded into silence. All the sounds around us—the music, the machines, the crowd—went mute. It was like a glass dome had suddenly dropped over me. This was the first time he’d touched me today. The first time we’d ever been this close. I could still see the teddy bear. I could see the finger pointing to it.

But none of that mattered.

“I should be pushing him away. I should be panicking... breaking bottles... screaming.”

The thoughts crashed through my head like waves.

“What the fuck is happening to me?”

“So... do you like it?” Harold’s voice returned, gentle and unsure.

“I... um,” I stuttered.

“You don’t like it? That’s fine. Totally fine,” he said quickly, pulling away. “We’ll just do the rides and head out.”

“Umm...” I let out an airy chuckle, trying to shake off the strange feeling. “I like the bear. I do. And you clearly want to play the game. So how about this—why don’t we both play and see who gets the ball into the bottle first?”

His expression lit up.

He handed a dollar to the vendor and received a tray with five small white balls. I did the same.

“I’ll go first,” I declared, placing a hand dramatically on my chest. “Ladies always go first.”

“Yeah, well, don’t start crying when I win,” he teased.

“I won’t cry. You’ll cry.”

I picked up one of the tiny balls—barely larger than a grape—and aimed for the distant green bottle. I tossed it carefully. The ball bounced off an orange bottle and landed in a yellow one. The crowd around us winced as if I’d just spit on sacred ground.

“Oh, you weren’t even close,” Harold said with a smirk.

I shot him a deadpan look, lips tight.

He picked up his ball and gave it a lazy toss. It sailed between two white bottles and fell short, clattering onto the shelf.

I nearly burst into laughter. I had to press my fist to my mouth to contain the giggle, snorting twice before I could compose myself. “You’re terrible at this.”

“I know. Don’t look at me,” he said, covering his face in mock shame.

I tossed another ball. It sailed right over all the bottles and landed on the shelf behind them, where the prizes were stacked.

“Reaching for the stars, are we, Angel?” Harold mocked.

He picked up his second ball. Everyone watched in silence as it glided toward the green bottle tucked in the far corner. My eyes narrowed. The ball arched downward, closing in on the bottle’s lip.

In the final second—just as it was about to drop in—something strange happened.

The bottle shifted.

It was subtle, nearly imperceptible, but I saw it. I was sure I saw it. The ball bounced off the lip and landed on the shelf with a thud.

“Ohhh,” the crowd groaned in unison.

“Hey, wait—that’s cheating!” I snapped, my voice sharp as I turned to the vendor.

“Cheating? What in seven hells are you on about?” the vendor barked, feigning confusion.

“Angel, what’s going on?” Harold asked. He looked at me like he’d just seen a ghost.

“You didn’t see it? The bottle moved just as the ball was about to go in. I’m sure he used some kind of hidden contraption or something,” I explained.

Harold turned to the vendor, who quickly denied it. “I assure you, I have no idea what she’s talking about. The game isn’t rigged.”

Harold sighed and turned back to me. “Listen, Angel, it’s just a game. You don’t have to get worked up over it, please.”

“Worked up?” My breaths quickened. “You don’t believe me?”

“No. I mean—yes. I do believe you.” He took both of my hands in his and said calmly, “I believe every word you say. But this is just a stupid game. It’s okay.”

His voice steadied my breathing. He put his arm around my shoulders again and gently guided me away from the shop.

We hadn’t gone far before I turned around. My eyes locked with the vendor’s. He smirked—eerily. There was something about the way he stared at me, his eyes filled with malice. That glare... It looked so familiar. Richard’s face flashed in my mind, layered over his, and I quickly looked away.

The rest of the night was nothing short of exciting. We went on rides, ate cotton candy, and played less-rigged games, winning silly prizes and laughing like kids. It was the best night I’d had since the fire. Every moment I spent with Harold felt like a balm over the bruises in my mind.

I could feel the darkness inside me slowly begin to shrink.

“I hope you had as much fun as I did today,” Harold said as we walked along the street, bordered by steel railings that separated us from the vast lake below.

He had his hands tucked in his coat pockets, and I mirrored him. The wind was cold against our faces, but the moonlight made the night feel... magical. The glow reflected on the still surface of the lake, casting silver streaks across the water.

“I had a wonderful time. It’s a shame it has to end,” I replied.

“Tonight will end. But tomorrow’s a new day. We can do this any time you want. You just have to be willing,” Harold said softly, walking a few steps ahead.

I stared into his eyes, taking in his quiet sincerity. Then, after a long pause, I turned to face the lake.

“I was married once,” I said, stepping closer to the railing and curling my fingers around the cold metal bar. “To a man I thought was my prince charming.”

Harold silently joined me, his gaze fixed on the moon hanging over the water.

“He was everything to me. I loved him so much I gave up my entire life for him. I went against my family’s wishes. I even helped him fight them, all just to be with him. And for what? So he could turn around and hit me in the face over the most ridiculous things.”

“I’m so sorry,” Harold whispered, his voice nearly swept away by the wind.

“Our wedding was beautiful. The best day of my life. We had cake, we laughed, played games. But the moment we got to the house, he changed.”

I kept talking, ignoring Harold’s sympathy. What use were apologies now?

“It turned out he was only using me to get close to my family. When he failed, I became nothing more than his punching bag. He would have his way with me and then leave me bleeding… from everywhere.”

Harold inhaled sharply. “What about his family? Yours?”

“His people were heartless. They didn’t care what he did to me. I had to lie, say I fell, or cut myself on accident—just to keep from being tossed out onto the street like garbage.”

I paused, swallowing the lump rising in my throat. “And I’d already lost my own family. I tried calling them so many times, but no one picked up. The one time my mother answered, she told me I’d made my choice and had to live with the consequences. That’s when I knew—if I stayed in that mansion, in his bed, I was going to die there.”

My eyes burned. Tears blurred the lake’s reflection. “He was arrested after I managed to divorce him. But the memories never left. They still haunt the darkest corners of my mind. Sometimes, I feel like I’m living it all over again.”

I didn’t even realize I was crying until I felt the wetness on my cheeks. I thought I was strong enough to talk about it now—but I wasn’t. Not at all.

Harold wrapped his arms around me and gently pressed my head to his chest. Warmth radiated from him, seeping into the cold places in my soul. I’d never been this close to his heart. I could hear it—steady, strong, and real. And in that moment, I knew: he cared. He truly cared.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all of that,” he said, voice tender.

“If only I’d listened to my family. If only I’d been smarter…” I whispered, sobbing.

“No, Angel. It wasn’t your fault,” he said gently. “Your only mistake was giving your heart to the wrong person. And that’s okay. It’s all over now. He’s gone. You’re here. You’re a strong, beautiful woman with a heart of gold—who also happens to be a biological mechanic.”

He chuckled lightly at the last part.

I laughed, too—quietly—remembering the stupid joke I made on our first date. It felt like a lifetime ago.

“Your past can’t hurt you as long as you’re living in the present and holding onto the moments that bring you joy,” Harold continued. “You’ve spent so long being a wall—strong, guarded. But it’s okay to crumble sometimes. It’s okay to fall. Because I’ll always be here to catch you... Angel.”

He sounded like my therapist—except his words weren’t rehearsed or clinical. They were warm, raw, full of life. Just like his embrace.

Maybe… just maybe, the universe didn’t hate me after all.