My book of horror stories

Request 3 (stealing from the dead)

I went to a carboot to see what treasures I could pick up, it's only while I don't have the money though, I really need to find a job for mine and my daughters (Marie). I was gazing across the nearly set up stands when one in particular caught my eye. I weaved through the people to get to the end store. A young man stood manning it. I was studying the different clothes when a small box caught my eye, layla Clifton, R-. The rest seemed to be scratched out, I opened it up to find a .black and white checkered shirt, Marie will love this! I asked him how much and he told me £5 but I managed to get him down to £3.
I threw the box in the bin when I got home, putting the shirt in the washer to clean it up.
By the time Marie had come in from school, the shirt had been washed and dried. As soon as she spotted it her eyes widened. "Here you go," I smiled. She ran up, hugging me. "Thank you!" She exclaimed, running upstairs to get changed into it. She wore it for the rest of the day. That night I heard her sniffling and sobbing. I turned over to look at the clock, 2:23am, letting out a sigh, I got out of bed to go comfort her but when I reached outside her room I found that her door was locked, and she had stopped crying anyway. So I went back to bed.
The next day she came downstairs wearing her new shirt, I didn't mind as she only wore it for about 3 hours yesterday. We continued are day as normal.
That night I woke up to her crying again but I didn't bother to go check on her again, it's to early.
The next few weeks past like this, Marie waking up crying between 2am to 2:30 am and her not ever changing clothing. She had tried masking the scent with perfume and deodorant but it still had a putrid stench. I tried so many times to get her to change, yet she wouldn't at all. One night I woke up at 2am to her crying, here goes another hour of sobbing I thought. Yet, suddenly, as soon as the clock turned 2:15am, she stopped, nothing, complete silence.
I got out of bed to check on her and found her door open, I hesitantly exited to find her sprawled on the floor, blood dripping from numerous parts of her body. She was now wearing I white lace dress, her favourite shirt thrown into the corner. I ran to her, checking her wrist for a pulse...nothing. I stayed on her floor, crying my heart out until morning.
I don't know what happened but adrenaline kicked in. I went downstairs, getting one of my old jewellery boxes, just the right size for Marie's favourite shirt. I grabbed a knife, carving Marie Johnson, R.i.P into it, then sealing it shut. I then carried my box and my daughter down to the graveyard, digging a grave before hand. They were both buried deep underground. Today is exactly a year later, I'm at the same carboot, watching the same man that sold me that shirt, he hasn't aged a bit. Suddenly a women walks up to him, immediately grabbing a jewellery box that looks a lot like the one with that shirt in. I can partially make out Mar- on the top...
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Requested by dragonlocks