No matter what I did, the doll kept coming back.
At first, I assumed it was a prank by my housemate, Jenna, but it was always the same thing.
“I am never home when you find the doll!” she would exclaim. “I would never waste my money getting a new one every time you throw it out.”
Yes, no matter what I did, or where I threw it, the doll would always be right back on my bed.
It was an old doll. My mother claimed she bought it from an antique store as a birthday gift as she knew I enjoyed displaying dolls in my new home.
It had red hair, green eyes, and a cute strawberry-patterned dress. There was a matching bow on its head.
“The doll is cute”, I thought, when I held it. But it gave me bad vibes. In the months that followed, I often had weird dreams. I often woke up in a cold sweat.
I considered getting the doll blessed, but kept putting it off. That was a big mistake.
One day, after work, I walked into the house I shared with Jenna. I heard a music box quietly playing from my room.
That was strange. Neither of us owned one. Anxiously, I took a step forward.
Each step I took, the louder the music got. My heart rate quickened. I was not sure I wanted to open the door.
I hoped this was a prank, and that Jenna was just around the corner with a Halloween mask from the dollar store.
But the closer I got, the less likely it seemed this was a prank. “Jenna would have popped out by now”, I thought, as I was standing right outside my door.
“What is that smell?”
As I willed up the courage to open the door, the music kept getting louder. I decided to open the door. The moment I did, I gasped.
Jenna was in the middle of the room, covered in blood, with a kitchen knife in her stomach.
I kneeled beside her, desperately trying to find a pulse. Thankfully, I did. It was faint, but still there. I quickly pulled out my phone to call for help. As I spoke to the person on the line, I heard a noise coming from the cabinet.
I felt panic rise when I realised someone could still be in here.
I grabbed a bat I had under my bed and quietly crept close. I realised that the music box was playing from the inside.
As I got nearer to the cabinet, I heard sirens outside. I relaxed a little. That meant help was near.
Just then, I turned around. I saw the doll.
It was moving towards me, covered in blood.
I realised then my mistake of telling Jenna I was going to burn the doll that night.
It did not like that …
This is the personal opinion of the writer and does not necessarily represent the views of Twentytwo13.
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