The Doll | 18+ Only [Complete]

Chapter 7: Reanimate

Pain.

That's all I felt as my eyes flutter open, my mind finally gaining consciousness.
My body was in so much pain, especially my legs, behind my thighs, my hips, and my arms.

They all hurt to move.

A low whimper passes my lips as I try pulling myself upright in my bed.

Sharp, hot flashes of something painful cuts across my forehead, and I grip unto my head as my body begins to tremble violently.

Gasping for breath, I take a couple minutes to get my body under control as I feel my heart rate begin to slow.

Memories of lastnight start flooding back to my mind, and I feel the color drain from my face.

I was frozen in terror. I could feel my heart pounding furiously against my ribs, and my breathing that had finally slowed down begins leaving me in gusps of cold, haggard air.

Swallowing hard, I glance around the room to find it empty, and eerily quiet. Ripping the sheets off my body, I look down, noticing that I wore a fresh, clean, white T-shirt.

I blink a few times as I remember the events of me getting fucked lastnight by a dead body, and my eyes well up with hot, frightful tears.

I couldn't move. I was grounded to my bed in fear, and it was rolling off me in waves.

After a couple minutes of fighting with my own body, and consciousness, I risk throwing my legs off the bed.

Standing on weak knees, I struggle to move over to my phone on the dresser.

Hurriedly, and with short tremors running through my body, I dial 9-1-1.

I was extremely horrified, I couldn't think of anything better but to get the police involved.

Silently, I wait by the phone as I listen to it ring. An operator comes on, and a relieved sigh leaves my breath.

"Hello, this is 911. What's your emergency?" A feminine voice echoes over the line, and I grip my phone tighter, relieved I had gotten through to an operator so quickly.

"Hi, yes. I'm calling to report a murder."  I mutter, my voice trembling as tremors rock my body.

"You're calling to report a murder?" The operator asks, her voice perking up with urgency.

"Yes." I reply, sobbing silently.

"Okay ma'am, where are you right now?" She asks, and I could hear her tapping away on her keyboard.

"I'm home. I live on street 15C, Jacksonville." I hiccup on the line, as I glance around the room.

"Okay, ma'am. We will be sending by a patrol team shortly. Can you give me some information about the murder?" She asks, her voice maintaining the sound of urgency, and I sigh a breath of relief at the news that they'd be sending a patrol team by.

"Yes, I was attacked lastnight with a partner I had brought home, and he was killed." I mutter quietly, as my heart pounded inside my chest.

"He was killed? Do you know who killed your partner?" She asks, and I freeze up at her question. Blinking a few times, I suddenly remember Maxwell holding a long, bloody knife. He had used that as his murder weapon. The knife was coated in blood, and it was the same one he had threatened me with.

"Yes. It was, it was...." I begin, but my tongue falls heavy in my head as I struggle to get the description out.

What the fuck was I supposed to tell her? That I was harboring a murdering, pyschopathic doll, that came alive whenever he chose to, and killed people?