All Mine

•7•

You gasped, not understanding how the doll knew to make your favourite sandwich. However, you couldn't push the possibility out of your mind that all of this was a stupid prank, all to the credit of Malcolm.

Crouching, you picked the tray up with both hands and carried it to the box at the end of your bed, setting it down there with shaking hands.

All of a sudden, you began to laugh uncontrollably, holding your hands up to your face. You stopped laughing like a crazy person momentarily but soon began chuckling again. You couldn't help it! This was insane and, for some reason, made you laugh.

You noticed the phone you had thrown was beeping on the phone. Cautiously, you picked the phone up and held it to your ear, expecting there to be breathing on the other end or some other horror movie theatrics but there was nothing, minus the high-pitched beeping you heard first. You brought the phone down from your ear and took it to the dresser, placing it next to the lamp.

Curious, you walked over to your doorway, just to see the doll still sat on his bed, with the rules attached to a clipboard next to him, same as before all.. this. You were amazed. So, you crouched down in front of the doll and waved your hand in front of it, to see if it was alive. Of course, you were not given any response, so you tried talking to it instead.

"Is this what you want?" You asked it, looking over at the rules.

Again, no response. The phone began to ring shortly after talking to.. the doll. You were glad for an excuse to be away from it.

"Ok," You mumbled under your breath, rising up from your crouching position.

Before you knew what you were doing, you were standing over the phone which was now loudly ringing in your face. You picked up the phone and held it to your ear, waiting for a response.

"Hello?"

"(Y/N), it's Malcolm."

You breathed out a sigh of relief. It was only Malcolm.

"Hey," You were going to tell Malcolm about everything that happened here, not caring about the consequences. "The doll moves. He moves, Malcolm." Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you told Malcolm this.

"(Y/N), are you okay? Do you need me to come over? Maybe send a few men in white suits too," He laughed.

You were disappointed, as Malcolm wasn't getting the point. You supposed you had to show him. So be it.

"No, forget it."

"Uh, well, Y/N, I was calling to see-"

"I have to go," You said, not wanting to bother with an excuse.

"(Y/N)-"

But you didn't hear the rest of Malcolm's sentence, for you had already put down the phone. You didn't need to be distracted and to be honest, Malcolm can wait.

---

Mr and Mrs Heelshire escalated down a windy stone path, passing ivy leaves growing from cracks in the wall surrounding them. The path opened up to a rocky beach, and the couple were well dressed for the bleary weather portrayed in the sky, reflected on the sea before them. They were wearing their coats, zipped-up and were wearing gloves. Their skin obviously didn't touch as they held hands.

They came to a halt as they spotted exactly what they came down here for.

Two large stones, big enough to be weighty but small enough to fit in their coat pockets. Gradually, after separating hands, the two crouched down to these stones and slipped them in their coat.

Before the old couple came down here, Mrs Heelshire had written a letter, with her husband watching over her. Back at the hotel, they were staying at, the light poured in through the window from outside. There wasn't much of it; oddly-shaped clouds were covering the sun. Mrs Heelshire had finished writing the letter but her pen was still lingering just above the paper. Her husband could tell she didn't want to go but she had to. So, he made sure to remind her.

"It's time, my dear." Mr Heeshire placed a hand on his wife's shoulder, gently bringing her out from her daydream and back into reality. The letter was addressed to someone close to them, along with a photo attached. It had been written in clean handwriting, elegant almost. The pair couldn't do anything more, so they decided to make their slow journey to the rocky beach, where they are now.

The pair looked on, not really looking for anything but for peace. Mrs Heelshire took her husband's hand in her own, gently as if to reassure him. It did, to some extent. Mr Heelshire lovingly looked at his wife but with a pained glaze over his eyes. They had both decided. Now all they had to do was execute their plans.

Slowly, Mr and Mrs Heelshire stepped into the water, the liquid instantly filling their shoes. It was freezing and made a chill rush through their bodies at a quick pace. Due to them wearing coats, the water didn't affect their upper body as much as it did there lower. The water lapped at their feet, drawing the old couple in more and more.

They strode into the sea further and further, the water reaching their chins and then..

Mr and Mrs Heelshire ceased to exist, only bubbles rising to the surface instead of them.

They still held hands, even when death welcomed them with open arms and the water kept making waves.