The Love of Lady Dimitrescu X Female Reader || One-Shots

The Wrong Job (Part 2)

Slamming your door shut, you hurried around your car and noticed Donna driving recklessly down the street. You flinched upon hearing her tires skidding to a halt. It was a miracle that she didn't dent your rear bumper.

As you ran to the front of their apartment, you yelled into your phone, "Dani? Are you still there? We're outside! Can you unlock the door?"

You heard her hyperventilating on the other end. "Uh, ye-yeah, I'm coming down now."

Donna was dashing toward you with her phone in hand. "What are you waiting for? Go inside!"

"She's coming down to unlock it."

Once she flung the door open, she took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself down. "You guys need to see this."

"Should I dial 911?" Donna asked, her finger was pressed against her screen.

"Not yet, auntie."

Daniela led you and Donna up their carpeted stairs. The upper part of the apartment consisted  of one bathroom, a main bedroom, guest room, and the child's room, where the crib was near the window which overlooked the neighborhood. Just as she said, there were numerous toys scattered about the floor: LEGOS, a large robot, a marble maze, a set of Lincoln Logs, a plastic tub filled with dinosaurs, action figures, lightsabers, and a wooden flute. Your daughter was right. These toys were clearly not suitable for a four-month-year-old child.

"If this isn't the tidiest room I've ever laid eyes on," Donna remarked dryly, kicking the toy logs out of her way.

"Here, look!" Daniela pointed at the crib. Moving toward it, she cast the blanket off it.

A part of you hesitated. Although she had told you Logan wasn't dead, you feared to see something that your memory wouldn't be able to erase. Your eyes widened in horror as you gawked at the hyper-realistic baby doll in a short, sleeveless, light-blue onesie that said, "Baby Cookie" on the front of it. The eyes of the doll looked so damn real that you felt like your heart would stop if they blinked at you. Its chubby fingers, roly-poly cheeks with a faint blush, and stiff arms resembling a ballerina's pose added to the creepiness altogether.

"Uh? What is this?" Donna pushed you aside so she could get a closer look. She shrugged her shoulders. "Okay? So, he has a doll. That's not a problem. Where'd you put Logan?"

"Auntie." Daniela turned her disquieted gaze upon her. "This is Logan."

"What?" Clearly bewildered, she grabbed the doll and held it in the air. Bending its legs and arms, she inspected it closely as if she were a gemologist. "You're not kidding?"

Based on her lack of response, her eyes grew larger than you had ever seen them. She let out a terrified shriek and hurled the doll back into the crib. She wiped her hands off on her pants as if she had come in contact with a deadly virus. "You're shitting me! They're having you babysit a doll?"

"I guess so," Daniela muttered, rubbing her eyes and feeling overwhelmed. "I-I didn't know about this. I should've looked sooner."

You placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Dani, you couldn't have known. Anne didn't show you. I'm blown away that Emily and her friend didn't know about this?"

"Emily and her friend?" Donna asked angrily. "Are those the friends who offered you this gig?"

Daniela nodded.

"They won't be your friends after this!"

"Donna, we don't know if they're aware of this or not."

"I don't think they are," Daniela spoke up. "Emily has only seen them a couple of times. It's her friend who has grown up with them. She just said they were always kind to her, like they'd sometimes invite her inside for lemonade."