The Doll

3

Day one.

Alice

"So everything's going alright?"

Leah inquired, her voice carrying a subtle undertone of unease.

"Yeah, it's all good," I responded while casually perusing the various channels on the television. "I guess people were lying. I haven't seen a single ghost so far."

"Well, that's great," Leah countered, her attempt at feigning happiness for me futile as the unmistakable worry seeped through her words.

"Something wrong? “You sound a little off today,” I conveyed the information to her, and subsequently, I conscientiously opted for a reputable news outlet before delicately setting the remote down upon the adjacent cushions of the sofa.

“No, it’s okay, it’s just...” Leah's voice faded into silence, leaving a lingering pause that stretched on for what felt like an eternity before she found the strength to utter another word. “Tommy just told me really bad things about the house.”

"No, don't listen to him, you know he's like a firm believer in ghosts," I said, stifled laughter escaping my lips, as I found it incredulous that some individuals could genuinely entertain the notion of ghostly apparitions.

"You're right but I just got a bit worried," Leah said. "I don't believe in ghosts, but the stories he told were really disturbing."

"Don't worry, I'll be okay, I promise," I offered her my reassurances. Once she had concluded the call, I delicately placed the telephone upon the couch and reclined, allowing my head to rest. With closed eyes, I inhaled deeply, reveling in the sensation of improved well-being from the previous day. The haunting specters of unpleasant memories no longer plague me, replaced entirely by a profound sense of solace. Such feelings have eluded me for an extended duration, attributable solely to the actions of my parents. Rather than endeavoring to enhance my existence, these indifferent and negligent individuals have indubitably exacerbated my circumstances.

As I wandered through the labyrinth of my own musings, a fortuitous glimpse of the unfolding news materialized on the illuminated screen before me.

Breaking news: The ghost house of California is finally sold.

“After several years of the famous California haunted house sitting abandoned, former owner Henry Lexington claims the house has finally been sold.”

As the news anchor's voice filled the room, a visual representation of the house materialized in a perfectly symmetrical frame beside him. In a moment of sheer revelation, my eyes widened, for I had identified the house as none other than my own abode. Swiftly, I seized hold of the remote control, my fingers deftly maneuvering to amplify the audio, all the while keeping my gaze transfixed upon the television display. The narrative seamlessly transitioned from the news anchor to an interview, featuring a man whose visage was instantly familiar to me - Henry Lexington.

“For countless years, I have endeavored to part ways with this house, yet alas, it has been met with constant rejection by all who have dared to consider its acquisition.”

Henry's voice resonated through the microphone, skillfully wielded by the female reporter. My gaze fixated on the screen with unwavering intensity, my anticipation mounting as I yearned to uncover the words about to escape his lips.