The Doll

2

Beep.

While standing immobile in front of the closet, striving to grasp the elusive meaning of that enigmatic phrase, my mobile device began to quiver.

Sighing, I retrieved my phone from the depths of my pocket. Leah's name glowed upon the screen, a beacon of concern for my safe arrival. With a touch as gentle as a caress, I accepted the call.

"So, did you arrive?" Leah inquired, her voice came forth with a newfound tranquility. I pivoted on my heels and approached the bed, collapsing my fatigued frame upon the inviting and snuggly bed. The plush mattress embraced my weary form, enveloping me in a level of comfort hitherto unknown in my previous sleeping quarters. Bella, sensing the superior caliber of this resting place, leaped onto the bed and nestled herself into a compact ball.

"Yeah, I did," I replied. "The house isn't as bad as people said."

"Really? That's great," Leah said, sounding a little happy. "If you want me to come visit you anytime just tell me I'll be there as fast as I could."

"But your house is so far away from mine, it's going to take you a long time," I said, taken aback by her willingness to traverse such great lengths in order to pay me a visit.

"Anything for my best friend," Leah's response, dripping with unwavering loyalty, elicited a radiant smile from my countenance, for I reveled in the solace of her unwavering companionship.

"Thanks, Leah," With a lingering smile upon my lips, I offered my retort, only to have it swiftly evaporate as my mother's presence flooded my thoughts. Oh how I wish she treated me like that.

"What are friends for?" Leah's response elicited a bittersweet reaction from within me, evoking a smile that was accompanied by a poignant welling of tears. With a farewell and the abrupt termination of our conversation, an uncomfortable stillness settled upon me.

I reclined upon the mattress, drawing in a profound breath. A familiar compulsion overcame me as I pressed my teeth into the tender flesh of my lower lip—an unfortunate habit I often succumb to in times of stress or discontentment. With closed eyes, I valiantly endeavored to expunge the disquieting thoughts that swirled within my mind, yet I found myself besieged by the ghostly visages of both my mother and father. Their impassive countenances, upon learning of my forsaking them, haunted my every waking moment, inflicting an anguish upon my heart that was nigh unbearable. The frigid tones of their voices reverberated ceaselessly within the recesses of my mind, provoking an unrelenting ache within my skull.

I pressed my hands firmly against my face, a futile attempt to banish those intrusive memories from my thoughts. Rising from my resting position, I cast a glance towards Bella, who regarded me with a sympathetic gaze, evidently perceiving my renewed state of agitation.

In the midst of my deep preoccupation with troubling thoughts, a fleeting glimpse caught my attention — a swift figure, running in the hallway. My gaze fixated upon the corridor, meticulously examining every detail in search of that enigmatic apparition. To my dismay, there was naught but an empty passage, yet the unsettling notion of a concealed interloper residing within my abode seized me, accelerating my breath and setting my heart pounding against my chest. Overcoming trepidation, I gingerly hoisted myself from the bed, never averting my eyes from the hallway. Instinctively, my hand sought solace in my pocket, where my trusty blade lay concealed. With measured steps, I brandished the knife and advanced toward the doorway, my gaze keenly surveying both directions with utmost caution. Alas, my profound relief surged forth as the absence of any peculiarities became evident—no squatters, no invaders. And yet, bewilderment shrouded my mind as I pondered the identity of that swift, unfamiliar silhouette.

Could it be...

A ghost?

Without hesitation, I promptly dismissed that preposterous notion from my consciousness. A specter? Surely not. Such nonsensical entities do not inhabit reality, merely products of fabricated tales. My self-reproach grew palpable as I briefly entertained the notion that the apparition I glimpsed possessed supernatural origins. The sole conceivable rationale for the fleetingly perceived silhouette rests in the realm of hallucinatory figments, in no way warranting excessive rumination or undue significance.

***

Leah

"So you're telling me Alice moved into that famous haunted house?"

- asked my brother Thomas, his countenance filled with astonishment. A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I prepared to address him.

"Yeah, but she's saying it's not as bad as people claimed," I nonchalantly lifted my shoulders in response. The astonishment etched on Tommy's countenance showed no signs of waning, instead intensifying, for he had once placed unwavering trust in the realm of supernatural phenomena.

"But this house is said to have a very dark history," Tommy's voice resonated, his words echoing with a sense of profound fear. "A lot of people were murdered in this house, and some of them even committed suicide."

"Committed suicide?" I inquired, a sudden surge of trepidation gripping my soul, fearing that Alice, too, may succumb to such a tragic fate. Ever since Jenny's untimely demise, I have been plagued by indescribable trauma, and the mere thought of history echoing its melancholic refrain fills me with utmost dread. Alice is my best friend and the mere notion of relinquishing her from my grasp is an inconceivable notion, an abyss from which I could never emerge unscathed. "Alice told me about the house being haunted and people claiming they experienced paranormal phenomena there, but... I heard nothing about people dying in the house."

"Well, I've been following news about the house for the past few years, and one website stated that detectives found bodies in the house during their investigation, but that website was deleted shortly after the terrible news was published." With his words, Tommy sent waves of terror crashing over me, intensifying the fear I had already been consumed by.

"So the house isn't only a haunted place, but also a crime scene?" With a trembling voice, I posed a question, to which Tommy assented with a nod. However, before I could express my thoughts, a soft knock on my door disturbed my flow of thinking. As the door slowly swung open, revealing the silhouette of my mother.

"Leah, I need you to come downstairs," Mom uttered the words and swiftly departed. Tommy and I exchanged perplexed glances before I gracefully rose from my seat, prompting Tommy to trail after me. We descended the staircase in unison, and there, before me, stood dad, positioned in the threshold of the front entrance. The entranceway was ajar, revealing a solitary figure poised just beyond its threshold. Clutching a humble carton, the individual's countenance evoked the semblance of a postal worker.

"Leah, you received a mail," Dad said, and with a gentle gesture, he yielded the way, allowing me to approach the enigmatic mail. Tentatively, I advanced and halted before the postman, a moment of unease enveloping me.

"This was sent to you by..." the postman started but stopped as he scrutinized the sender's name. "Unknown."

My brow furrowed with perplexity as the postman delivered an enigmatic envelope into my hands. Without uttering another word, he swiftly departed, leaving me rooted to the spot, gazing down at the enigmatic missive. My finger gingerly traced the coarse, aged paper as I hesitantly broke the seal and unveiled its contents. Unfolding the letter within, my eyes fixated on five succinct words inscribed at its center, leaving me utterly confounded by their cryptic meaning.

She chose it.
10 days.