The woman had reached the end of her hope. No one had listened, and every door she'd tried closed on her. Desperation weighed heavy on her heart, and that's when she heard whispers-whispers about someone who could "take care" of things when the law failed.
The tip-off came from a quiet voice at her last resort, a dimly lit bar where she'd tried drowning her helplessness. The bartender leaned close, his words barely a murmur over the glass he polished, "Look, lady, there's someone you can talk to. Might not be what you want, but he gets things done-off the record." His gaze met hers for a second, as if warning her. "You want justice? Or revenge? He might be your answer. The doll will give the instructions. Don't try to find him any other way."
With her heartbeat thudding in her chest, she clutched the information, her mind spinning as she made her way to the meeting spot. It was hidden deep in a side street, a narrow passageway few would dare to wander at night. The entrance led into a deserted building, a faded sign hanging above the door, once advertising a long-abandoned tailor's shop.
When she entered, the air was thick with silence, broken only by the faint sound of her footsteps. In the center of the room sat a small, meticulously dressed doll on a dusty wooden chair. Its painted face stared straight ahead, expressionless, but something about it felt alive, expectant. She hesitated, heart racing as she took a seat across from it.
Then startling her, the doll spoke in a low, refined voice, each word calculated, as if it knew far more than it let on. "You are here for a service. I assume you've brought what I need?"
Her hands shook as she retrieved the envelope from her bag, placing it on the table in front of the doll. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Please. I-I need him to pay for what he's done. The police, they-they won't help, they say they don't have enough evidence, but I know. I know what he did."
The doll's head tilted slightly. "Why don't we start from the beginning?" The voice had a patience that felt both reassuring and unsettling. "Tell me exactly who he is, what he did, and why you've come to me instead of the law."
She took a shuddering breath, then began. "It was my ex-husband, Richard Holloway. He... he took everything when he left. But it wasn't enough for him. He wanted more. He sabotaged my business, leaked lies about me, and drove away everyone who mattered in my life. When I went to the police... they said it was just a 'domestic matter.'" Her hands clenched in her lap, the bitterness clear in her voice. "They wouldn't listen. No one would. He's ruined me, and now he's living free like it's nothing. I just... I want someone to stop him. To make him feel what he's done to me."
The doll was silent, listening as though absorbing each word, every ounce of pain in her story. Finally, it responded. "You understand that what you ask is... a delicate matter." It paused, almost as if considering her. "There will be no involvement of the law, and our arrangement will be kept between us. I don't accept cases lightly, but yours..." The doll's tone softened, but only slightly. "It sounds deserving."
She nodded, wiping a tear from her cheek. "I can pay. Everything I have, it's there in the envelope. It's not much, but-"
The doll chuckled softly, its tone turning unexpectedly light. "Desperation suits you. Half the money will do. I'll return the other half. And perhaps..." the voice dropped to a flirtatious murmur, "...half of you, as well?"
The woman blinked, caught off guard. For a brief, absurd moment, she almost laughed, feeling warmth she hadn't felt in a long time. The unexpected humor didn't erase her pain, but it eased the weight of the moment.
Recovering, she met the doll's painted eyes. "Thank you," she whispered, voice wavering with gratitude.
"You will receive word when it's done. Until then, forget you ever found me."
She left quietly, feeling an odd sense of release as she disappeared into the night. The doll sat in silence until the sound of her footsteps faded. Then, from behind a curtain, Ashling emerged, picking up the envelope. He was smiling with a mysterious satisfaction as he counted out exactly half and set the rest aside. His work had only just begun.
