Scarlett woke up that night, her throat itching for water. She rose from her bed and slipped her feet into her worn cotton slippers. She made her best effort not to make any sound as she creaked down the outdated wooden stairs and down into the kitchen. It appeared she wasn't alone, sitting on the kitchen counter was a doll. She had black button eyes that pierced through your soul and brown hair sewn in place with thin thread.
The doll was a replica of her.
It couldn't have been her mom, she hates sewing and anything creative plus it wasn't there when she got home. All of her other family members were dead or in a different state and as for her friends they were nonexistent.
Suddenly a shiver trickled down Scarletts spine.
She felt watched.
