The Doll.

A/N: Hey guys so I just wanted to tell you all before you read my story and think it's really bad, this was just a short story I had to write for my English class last year and I had such bad writers block so I just took a twisted idea that popped into mind and developed it. I know it's not the best piece of work but I just stumbled across it again and I just thought it was intriguing so I decided to post it on here. Hopefully you'll like it though :) Comment your thoughts, it'd mean the world to me!

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Lucy Watson stood there staring blankly at the house which held so many memories. Not the good kind that you would want to remember forever though, these were painful. The house which looked so perfect from the outside looking in was not. Its clean white trim, crisp blue paint, fresh curtains which blocked all view into the house, the manicured lawn with a garden off to the side that was already in full bloom, then the white picket fence which held everything together like a bow on a gift, was in fact completely deceiving, unreal. It appeared all too perfect to be true. The girl turned and walked away before anyone could notice that she had been staring. Her body was numb yet everything felt too rigid but that was the least of her worries. Her thoughts were filled with hatred, pain, anger, sorrow and angst. It had never made sense why she had to be like this, why her? Lucy wandered around the small town and finally sat on a bench at the local park.

A little girl, named Shirley, was at the park with her older brother, Jack. She was picking flowers for her mother when she noticed a beautiful girl sitting on the bench. She recognized the figure on the bench as Lucy, she went to school with her older brother, Jack, and he'd said that she was rather strange, she always kept to herself. Yet the little girl couldn't see it, she saw a life-sized version of the doll she had gotten for her birthday. Lucy was quite tall. Her dark hair hung in perfect ringlets down her back which contrasted her pale, porcelain-like skin nicely. Eyes green like jade showed no emotion and popped against her thick doll-like lashes. Her lips were ever red like a rose and her cheeks tinted with a rosy blush.

Hours passed as Lucy sat in the park and watched parents bring their children to play and families laid down blankets to have picnics as it was a sunny day for the small town just outside of London. She felt extremely lonely. It seemed that everyone else around her had a fun, energetic family that was always up for a new adventure or something that would bring them closer together. Lucy was orphaned at a young age of only 4 years old, she could recollect very little of her parents; her mother's warm, beautiful smile and her father's canny wisdom as he made up the most enchanting tales to tell young Lucy as bedtime stories. There was one other thing that she could remember about her parents; they had always called her their Little Goosey. Then one day everything just changed, it was as if her world as she had known it was turned completely upside down. She had come home from playing in the park with her friends and she saw her home burning, the fiery flames lit up the darkening sky. Everything about the memory was so vivid, still fresh on Lucy's mind as if it had just been yesterday instead of years ago. She could almost smell the scent of the burning smoke as she breathed; a burning sensation in her lungs as she recalled that dreadful day. The emptiness that accompanied the realization that she was now alone in the world with no one left to care for her. She had lost her parents in that house fire, abandoned at only 4. She lost everything that ever mattered to her yet she did not shed a single tear. Lucy slept on the street that night, and for countless nights after that. The dress that her mother had washed and starched the day they died became filthier each day and the ever present damp chill was surely not good for a young girl's health.

One day during the time that Lucy had spent living in the streets, begging for food and desperately looking for a warm shelter, she came across a man. The man took her off the streets but this was not to end well, it was an ill-fated event really. The man, Dr. Hatter, was a mad scientist who had taken on doll making as a hobby. What he had done to poor Lucy was horrendous and life changing. The man performed an experiment which would turn Lucy into a living doll. He had grafted porcelain into her skin, her eyes turned to marble-like orbs, her lips were simply painted on with a crimson pigment, but this was not the worst part. Dr. Hatter had hollowed out Lucy's insides, she had no internal organs yet she was still somehow alive to this day. Most people would find this feat remarkable and would require much skill, but Lucy thought it was horrifying. She had to live a cautious life for if she was hit too hard she would shatter, she could of course rapidly heal but it was a painful process. In Lucy's mind she was now an infernal being, shouldn't even exist, and she was seeking revenge. "Justice needs to be brought to that man..." Lucy whispered to herself. "and I'll be the one to bring it to him."

The Watson girl found herself standing in front of that picture perfect house yet again, but this time she felt something strange, a sort of blood thirst that would only be quenched when she accomplished her mission. A million thoughts ran through her mind as she stalked past the front gate, through the yard and she slipped gracefully in through the open window. As she crept through the house as silently as she could, she spotted him. The man she came here to kill. He turned and his expression was perturbed, utter fear was written across all his features; the slack jaw, eyes wide with worry, his body was even slightly shaking. Lucy had a devilish smile spread across her perfect face.

"Do I look like the angel you said I was?" Lucy asked Dr. Hatter.

The doctor gulped but nodded.

"Well I guess you just never realized that you created a monster." Lucy spoke in a flat, deadly tone. "Not an angel."

Dr. Hatter turned to run but he was now old with age, at least in his 70's, Lucy easily grabbed his arm and he turned to face her. She tore a part of her dress and grasped a handful of her porcelain skin which shattered instantly; the shards in her hand were as sharp as daggers. The girl shoved the shards deep into the elderly man's torso and twisted. He groaned as she buried the porcelain even deeper into his chest, his blood now staining Lucy's hands and dress. Dr. Hatter stumbled back and fell, his blood pooling around him on the hardwood flooring of his home. As Lucy turned to leave the scene of the crime, she saw a little blonde girl standing in the corner of the room with her teddy bear. Panic set into Lucy's system, but the younger girl just smiled.

"My name is Shirley, and I have a letter for you." The blonde girl spoke in a sing song voice as she pulled a letter out from behind her. "I found this in my brothers desk. It was locked up in the drawer but I thought you should read it since it's addressed to you."

Lucy walked towards Shirley and took the letter that was in the little girl's hand, on the envelope was "Lucy Watson" written in cursive handwriting. Wearily she opened the letter and read it. It was a confession. The writers words seemed to paint a flawless picture of guilt yet it was accentuated with undertones of delight in his accomplishment. As Lucy read the letter over again she felt the same bloodthirst and rage from earlier bubble up inside her. Finally things had been cleared up, it was a young 7 year old sadist, Jack that had killed her parents all those years ago. It was said in the papers that charred dismembered limbs were found after the house burned and that someone had set fire to the house, although the police had never discovered who had done it. Lucy smirked at Shirley as she looked up from the letter, she pulled her into a very tight hug and whispered a thank you into the little girl's ear. It was written all over Shirley's face that she wanted the same thing as Lucy.

So off Lucy went to grant the young girl's wish and continue on in her sick, twisted ways.