Husband

Ch.3: Value of a Doll (part 2)

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[WARNING]: This book will contain mature themes such as: Violence, Disturbing Imagery, Sexual content, extremely unacceptable behavior expressed by the antagonist, kidnapping, Dark, uncomfortable and disgusting topics, etcetera. Not suitable for readers under 18. A 'Yandere' should never be sought out in real life as they are incredibly toxic, dangerous and abusive. I do not condone the actions and/or the ideals of 'yanderes', this is purely fictional and should never be emulated in reality.

[WARNING/TRIGGER WARNING (TW)]: This chapter contains depictions of gore and violence.

The antagonist (the 'yandere') is supposed to be unsettling and immoral (abusive), I do not condone his ways.

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"What are you going to name her?" Husband asked.

"...I guess, A..Abby?" His smile fell.

"...intriguing name. What made you choose that?" He clenched his fists.

"Well I..." you looked at her chestnut hair and green eyes. Reminds you of someone, but who? You only knew Husband.

The man internally cursed himself for choosing a doll with that appearance. He should have given you a blond one with blue eyes instead.

"I don't know, I think it's fitting for her... Abby." You stared at the doll's tanned skin.

"Why don't you name her something like... Baby? Dollie? Lady? Lucky?" Husband tapped his thigh with his index finger impatiently, hoping that you would accept one of his suggestions.

"No thanks, I like Abby the best." You grinned, picking the plastic comb up. Husband sighed in defeat and went back to being quiet. That name, 'Abby', may irk him, but otherwise it doesn't seem to cause much harm. He'll let you be.

You depressingly combed your doll's synthetic hair, trying to undo any knots but it's too tangled up.

To make matters worse, Husband insisted on watching you 'play'. It was unnerving to say the least, his blue eyes are constantly trained on you with utmost love. His taste in a spouse is... questionable. You wonder how old he is and how old you are.

"You're having a hard time combing her hair, I see." You nodded, not wanting to turn around and show him your miserable frown.

"Play something else. Husband will fix it for you." He gently took the doll away from your hands and went to the laundry room. You shuddered, finding it creepy when he addressed himself in third person.

You don't like it anymore. You don't like how this relationship suddenly took a disturbing turn.

You wonder how he's going to 'fix' some tangled hair, he's not going to cut them off, is he? Now becoming slightly worried for your doll, you went into the laundry room as well.

You saw him swirling the doll's head in a basin of a diluted fabric softener mixture. His sleeves were rolled up to show his toned arms. He is holding the doll by it's shoulder, a hand to prevent its' clothes being soaked, another is to prevent the hair from touching anywhere else.

It looked like he's choking the doll with his relatively massive hands.

You frowned, for some reason it's disturbing to watch. Too disturbing, in fact, it sent chills down your spine. Your breath became ragged and your legs turned to jelly, What is happening?