Dan braced his back against the pendant and his feet against the other end, pushing for all he was worth. He had to escape, he had to get to Donna, he had to let her know he was still alive Somehow, as remaining in Francine’s clutches meant death, one way or another.
The longer he was away from her, the more passion driven his escape attempts became. Her soft velvety voice, her deep misty gray eyes, her long smooth chocolate brown hair, just thinking about her made his knees go weak.
Dan was even starting to miss her small quirks; all the quirky little things he used to find annoying, now made him nostalgic and hungry for her company. The tiny half snorting snore she made sometimes when she slept, the sloppy way she dried the dishes, the hair she would leave in the sink every morning after combing her hair. Even the wet footprints she would leave on the floor after not drying her feet properly after a shower. Dan missed it all.
Francine’s voice was the only one he could make out clearly through the cold, metal pendant walls. The rest were muffled and melted in with the background nose making them inaudible.
Of course he could still hear Francine’s voice, it stood out, loud and clear, resonating from all directions around him as he sat entombed in her gilded prison, dangling around her neck like some sort or prize. Fate had a cruel sense of humor.
They had traveled from Fran’s condo to his very own former residence; Donna had insisted they come over to help her search the house for Dan. After spending the better part of the day looking, Francine, Gracie, Sarah and Donna had retired to the couch, gently attempting to distract Donna, who was keeping it together relatively well all things considered.
“Well…you know Donna…maybe he’s around somewhere…I mean…well maybe there’s somewhere we didn’t look?” Gracie attempted to comfort her sister. She wrapped her arms around Donna and sat close, rubbing her back.
Donna embraced her younger sister and rested her head on Gracie’s shoulder. She cried gently as Gracie ran her fingers through her sister’s hair, hushing her gently.
“It doesn’t make any sense.” Sarah, Donna’s older sister, spoke up, turning over the small white porta-charger in her hand to examine it from a new angle. Her voice was deeper like Francine, and her looks were closest to her mother’s, where Gracie and Donna looked more like their father.
“What?” Donna sat up, looking over to Sarah, wiping a few tears from her eyes. “What doesn’t make sense?”
“Well, it’s just... okay... why would Dan do this to himself? You know?” Sarah's voice was tinged with frustration. Her anger was directed at Dan, though she often struggled to channel her feelings properly. Sarah was the type to speak her mind whenever she felt like it, no matter the situation—a trait that made her a skilled lawyer.
“Sarah!” Gracie frowned, sitting up, but keeping her arm around Donna’s shoulder. “Don’t yell at her, she feels crappy enough.”
Fran sat across from them in the recliner, her posture relaxed yet commanding, one hand absentmindedly tracing the rose-colored pendant around her neck. Her fingers, long and elegant with well manicured nails, moved delicately over the smooth surface of the locket, the subtle motion almost hypnotic. She listened intently to her daughters, her expression carefully controlled, never betraying the terrible secret concealed within the pendant’s depths. There was a quiet, magnetic allure in the way she held herself, a power that seemed to draw everyone’s attention without a single word.
“Maybe it was an accident…” Gracie mused. She knew it wasn’t, but she said it more to defend Dan for Donna’s sake than anything else.
“No, Gracie, these things have security features.” Sarah’s tone was firm as she took the device and aimed it at Gracie. Her forefinger pressed down hard on the trigger mechanism.
“Hey! Don’t point that thing at me!” Gracie’s heart raced. She tensed, instinctively pulling her legs up onto the couch and hugging them close, her arm slipping off Donna’s shoulder as she sought a sense of safety.
“See? It won’t discharge on complex life.” Sarah kept pressing the trigger, but the device refused to activate, producing only a small error sound. A red light began blinking on the small LCD screen, signaling the malfunction.
Not cool, Sarah... for fuck’s sake.” Gracie shrieked, closing her eyes, still half-expecting the device to discharge on her. “What if it malfunctioned and that’s why he shrank? Did you ever think of that? I don’t want to end up pint-sized too.” She huffed, hugging herself tightly.
Fran and Donna both let out small laughs, Donna’s much more reserved and almost ghostly. “Language, dear,” Francine spoke softly, turning the pendant over between her fingers.
“See? No go. The firing mechanism is designed to fail if the sensors detect complex life; dogs, cats, animals, people.” Sarah casually set the device down and crossed her legs, a smirk tugging at her lips.
“Whatever. Just don’t do that again.” Gracie frowned, trying to regain her composure, clearly irritated.
“The only way Dan could have used this on himself is if he wanted to,” Sarah said with a confident, almost smug tone.
“We already know that dear.” Fran spoke up, in a calm and controlled tone.
“He did leave a note.” Donna murmured, her eyes heavy and red, her voice barely more than a faint whisper, as though the words had taken all her energy.
“A note?” Sarah fell silent for a moment. “What kind of note? Why would he leave a note? Was it a suicide note?” Her words tumbled out, and as she spoke, she realized too late the mistake she'd made. The sharp, scornful gaze Francine cast her way was enough to silence Sarah in an instant, the unspoken authority in her mother’s look leaving no room for defiance.
***
Dan watched the blurry rose colored silhouette of the women as they moved about, Gracie was an animated talker and spoke with her hands, waving them about as she spoke, using all sorts of gestures. Sarah was much more reserved but made very clear and effective facial expressions when she spoke, not that he could see any of them through the hazy rose colored glass. Sarah had a habit of looking right at the person she was speaking to, maintaining direct eye contact at all times.
Donna resembled Gracie more than Sarah, though not with the same level of enthusiasm. She was always more measured with her words, but there was usually a smile on her lips when she spoke. Not today. Not now. Donna seemed like a shadow of herself, a mere echo of the woman she once was.
Even from his prison, Dan could feel the weight of it; the suffocating isolation that pressed against him from all sides. When Fran would finally allow the pendant to rest for a moment, giving him a brief, unimpeded view, he would catch glimpses of Donna’s eyes. Through the haze of the rose-colored glass, he could still see the pain, deep and raw. The pain he had caused, the sorrow he had brought upon her. It was unbearable. Every second of it.
Dan’s eyes were fixed on Donna, his gaze desperate and unblinking, until he felt the massive weight of Francine’s thumb press down over the frosted glass cover. Her digit loomed like a shadow, eclipsing his view with a quiet, overwhelming authority.
“No!” Dan screamed, pounding his fist weakly against the confines of his prison, the walls of his tiny world pressing in on him. “No, bring her back! Donna… please… come back!”
In his isolation, Dan was plagued by tormenting thoughts. What if things had gone differently? What if Donna had found him shrunken? What if his calculations had been right, and he had shrunk down to two inches instead of two millimeters? How would she have reacted? How would Donna have handled that?
What if it hadn’t been Francine who discovered him first? How would Donna have confronted the truth? Would she have been able to accept him alive, but so diminished, more than she could have a man she thought was lost to her forever?
Francine’s words echoed in his mind like a haunting refrain. Donna needed a man, a partner who could love her, hold her, support her. Protect her. She didn’t need an insect. She didn’t need a helpless, dependent shell of a person.
The fight drained from Dan’s body, leaving him limp. He gave in to the confines of the pendant, no longer resisting, no longer arguing. “What have I done?” he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath.
His fleeting glimpse of the outside world was stolen from him again as Francine carefully tucked her pendant away, slipping it beneath her blouse and into the deep valley of her breasts. The oppressive weight of her thunderous heartbeat reverberated around him, each pulse like a muffled drumbeat, drowning out all else. His view was now completely obscured, consumed by the soft, unyielding flesh and the fabric of her blouse, his world shrinking to nothing but the confines of her unrelenting presence.
Dan jolted to life, pressing himself desperately against the glass of the locket. “No! Come back! Donna!” His voice cracked as his angel was taken from him, his world slipping further from his grasp.
He needed to see her—just for a moment longer. He ached to hold her, to run his fingers through her hair, to kiss her neck and whisper sweet words in her ear. He wanted to make love to her, to feel the warmth of her head resting on his chest as they simply existed in each other’s presence. He couldn’t bear the thought of being torn away from her again, of being cast back into a life without her.
“Francine! Don’t you do this, please! Don’t take her from me again!” Dan screamed, his fists pounding weakly against the cold, unyielding glass. But Francine’s voice reverberated around him, calm and reassuring, as she continued to soothe her daughter. She gently patted the locket once it was securely in place, her movements slow and deliberate—utterly in control, her power undeniable.
The rhythmic, quake-like sound of Fran’s hand gently patting the locket reverberated through Dan’s tiny form, each impact jolting him violently. Then, just as suddenly, there was an overwhelming silence—an abyss of darkness that swallowed him whole.
Fran’s blouse closed in around him, blocking out the world entirely. All Dan could discern was the faint, indistinct outline of her breasts, looming on either side of him, rising and falling with her every breath. He was trapped, consumed by the immense, implacable force of her presence, his world reduced to the shadow of her chest.
“Dan is gone, Donna,” Fran’s voice resonated with undeniable authority within the rose tinted prison Dan was entombed in, echoing as if it came from within her very chest. It was loud, commanding, impossible to ignore in its proximity. “We have to accept that. Whatever his reasons, whatever his purpose, he is gone.”
“No! I’m here! I’m alive! Donna! Donna, help me!” Dan’s frantic cries echoed in the small space, but Fran’s voice smothered them, its weight silencing him entirely. She was erasing him, little by little, prying his memory from Donna’s grasp, and replacing it with her own, sick, twisted control.
“Donna, honey, we’re here for you,” Fran’s tone softened, becoming almost sweet, her voice wrapping around Donna like a comforting blanket. Her expression exuded concern, the kind only a mother could wield. "Let us help you."
“I... I just feel like he’s close, Mom... like, right under our noses, screaming for help,” Donna sniffled, leaning into Gracie, who instinctively cradled her head, offering the only solace she could.
“It’s natural to feel that way, dear,” Fran replied, her voice still gentle but carrying a firm undercurrent of truth. “But how could he have survived so small? It’s been over two weeks now. If he were still around, don’t you think we would’ve found a trace of him by now?”
Donna trembled, her doubt creeping in. “I know, but—”
“Mom’s right, Donna,” Sarah interjected, her voice blunt and firm, as if trying to cut through the uncertainty. “We can’t keep holding on to something that’s just not there.”
Donna whimpered, her strength slipping away like water through her fingers. “We looked all day… and it’s been so long,” Gracie whispered, stroking her sister’s hair in quiet comfort.
Fran leaned in, her presence filling the room, her tone once again wrapping around Donna like a gentle yet inescapable force. “Donna, sweetheart, Dan wouldn’t have wanted you to keep dwelling on this. He loved you. He would have wanted you to move on.”
Donna shot up, her voice quick with a burst of emotion. “He would have wanted me to find him! No matter what!”
Fran’s gaze hardened slightly, but her voice remained soft, persuasive. “Something clearly went wrong, something he didn’t plan for. You have to accept that, darling.”
“I doubt he would’ve shrunk himself on purpose,” Gracie added, her voice trembling slightly in an attempt to make sense of the chaos.
“It’s possible,” Sarah mused, uncrossing and recrossing her legs, her posture stiff but her tone thoughtful. She ran a hand through her pixie cut black hair, looking from Donna to Fran, her gaze full of quiet understanding.
Dan slumped against the cold, unyielding surface of the locket, his tiny body trembling with the crushing weight of his realization. He could barely make out the words of the conversation, each fragmented sentence a piercing reminder of his isolation. Fran was convincing Donna that he was gone, that he was dead. They were helping her move on, as if he had never existed.
With every word, he felt himself slipping further away from her, his presence fading into nothingness. He was powerless, trapped in his own removal from her life, unable to fight back, to change anything. And with each passing moment, it became clearer: He no longer belonged to Donna. He belonged to Francine now. His fate was sealed, his life controlled by her, a tiny captive in the hands of a woman who held him as easily as she controlled his future.
Donna looked to her mother, then to her younger sister. Her eyes filled with tears, and before she could stop it, she exploded into sobs, collapsing into Fran’s arms. Her cries were deep, loud, and intense, as if her grief was too much for her to bear alone. Fran enveloped her in a comforting embrace, rubbing her back, while Gracie sat back, her own tears starting to form.
“I never got to tell him,” Donna choked out through gasping breaths, her voice breaking.
“Tell him what?” Sarah asked immediately, her usually stoic expression beginning to falter as she saw the raw pain in her younger sister’s eyes.
“Tell him what, dear?” Fran whispered, pulling Donna even closer, resting her head gently against her chest.
“I was going to tell him the day I came home…” Donna’s voice trembled, barely able to form the words through her sobs. “And he wasn’t there… the day he… disappeared…”
Dan, trapped inside the locket, could see the fabric of Fran’s blouse depress as Donna nestled closer into her mother’s chest. He could almost make out the faint shadow of her head against the soft fabric. But it was her words that hit him hardest. He pressed himself as close to the glass as possible, holding his breath, desperate to hear what she would say next.
“We were gonna have a baby…” Donna whimpered, and the floodgates opened once more as she dissolved into tears.