A small girl laid in her bed, sleeping. Her chest slowly rose up and down.
Up and down.
Up and down.
A man stood over her. He had on a suit, with some blood on the front.
And a sack mask over his face.
He watched her breath through the eye holes. A smile was drawn on the sack where his mouth was.
--
She looks so young. So frail, and innocent. She probably has potentiality. Lots. It's all about the strength, and the knife. The knife separates the strong from the weak.
--
The man looked down at the blood caked knife in his hand, and let it roll between his fingers.
He then tucked it into his coat, and slowly bent down. He slowly worked his arms under her back and knees, careful not to wake her. She moaned slightly as he picked her up off the bed, letting the blanket fall back on the mattress. He noticed she was holding a small doll to her chest. He let her relax in his arms, her breathing never breaking it rhythm. He then slowly turned around, and walked out of her room.
--
The woman looked up as her partner entered the living room. She pulled her knife back out of the mans neck, since he was no longer breathing.
She saw that he was holding a small child.
--
What the hell? Why is he holding a kid?
--
"What are you doing?" She asked, slightly muffled by her doll-like mask. The man looked at her. "I found her in one of the bedrooms. I was thinking maybe she could be...the kid we never had. We could train her, help her, until she's just as good as us." He said.
The woman walked over, her expression unreadable by the mask. The man felt the smallest prick of distrust as she walked right in front of him, tilting her head down to look at the girl. She moaned slightly in his arms, her breathing escalating slightly before becoming normal. The woman looked up at the man, looking into his eyes through the holes. She always wanted a kid, someone to raise and follow in their footsteps. This one was young, easy to manipulate and bend. It just took the right teaching. She slowly took her hand up, and brushed a stray bit of curly blond hair out of the girls eyes.
"What's her name?" She asked. The man looked at her for a second. "Emma." He answered, remembering seeing it on a picture frame in her room.
"N-n-no." A small voice said. They both looked to the side. The woman they stabbed was apparently still fighting, and was trying to inch over to them. "No, don't take my baby. Please, don't." She whimpered, barely able to form the words.
The man then noticed a cell phone on the floor next to them, where the woman was trying to go to. He nodded to it, and the woman slowly bent down and picked it up, placing it on the counter. The dying woman sobbed as they quietly left, taking the girl with them.
--
The woman opened the back door of their truck and climbed in. The man then carefully laid the girl on the seats, her head on the woman's lap. She slowly stroked Emma's long blond hair as the man got in the drivers seat.
They then slowly pulled out of the driveway, and down the seat. The ride was silent, with only the stable sound of Emma's breathing as she left her life, entering a new one.
YOU ARE READING
Dollface-The Strangers
HorrorA little girl. She was raised to want to do one thing. She lusts to do it, her hands shaking from excitement, her labored breathing. She was raised to kill.
