The Doll | 18+ Only [Complete]

Chapter 10: Deathly Desire

Sweat trickles down my face as I grunt. My arms were aching from exertion as I slam the shovel into the hard gravel beneath me.

My legs shook as I struggle to scrape the dry dirt into my shovel, and throw the heavy load behind me.

Who knew digging a hole was such hard work.

I was already up to my shoulders in this pit I had created — but one could never be too sure.

Glancing around me silently, as my breaths left me in heavy successions, I swallow hard as I lift the shovel and throw it out of the pit.

Digging my nails into the dirt, I grunt, and groan as I try climbing out of the pit, determined to climb to the surface.

Exhaling deeply, as I lay flat on my back, a victorious smile spreads across my lips. I laugh in elation, happy that I didn't struggle much to come out of the hole I had dug.

Glancing to my left, I blink as I stare at the small leather suitcase a few feet away from me.

Swallowing hard, my heart slams against my chest as I refocus on the task at hand.

I would not allow myself or my son to get hurt. This time, I would rid myself of that accursed doll, and I'll do it right.
I would spare no measures to ensure that he never bothers us again.

Gripping the shovel in my hand, I stand to my feet, and with determined steps I walk over to the suitcase, and grab it, before throwing it inside the hole.

I was determined, to never — ever see it again

—Flashback—

"Mom, hey...is it okay if you keep Matthew this week?" I query softly into the phone as I glance over my shoulder where the doll layed unmoving and silent as the dead.

"Uh, of course. I'd love to have my grand baby over for longer." She mutters, and I sigh in relief – a triumphant smile making its way across my lips.

"Awesome, thanks mom." I mutter, ready to end the call.

"Wait, Alice. Is everything okay? Is it John again?" She asks, her voice adapting a concerned tone, and I frown, fighting the need to groan.

"No, mom. No, I'm just — tired. I need a break." I mutter quietly, as my head starts to ache. I had so much going through my mind, that my thoughts were starting to merge together. There was only one solid thought that was shining through, and as I glance over at the doll, still unmoving — I sigh in relief once more.

"Oh darling, I understand. Well, don't you worry about Matthew, you take all the time you need okay?" She mutters in that usual encouraging tone of hers, and hot tears spring to my eyes as my throat clogs with emotion.

"Thank you so much."

Matthew would be safe with his grandparents, it was better than coming here.

Ending the call, I turn to the doll in question and walk over to it. Standing over the doll laying on its back, it's blue, soulless eyes meets mine as he gazes back at me.

Timidly, I poke at it with my toe to see if it would move or react.

"Maxwell..." I call out quietly, glancing down at the doll at my feet.

No reaction.

"Maxwell, if you're there —" I pause, catching myself in the middle of my sentence before swallowing my words.

No reaction.

Stooping down, I pick the doll up in my hands and blink at it curiously. It was just, a doll. Did this happen after I went unconscious? He was human all weekend, what changed?

Swallowing hard, and not giving the idea a second thought, I rip it's left arm off.

If he was in his doll state, as most dolls would, they don't react to something like this. And my desires? My desire was to rip it apart, dispose of it, and never have to deal with it again.

It's arm pulls off in my hand, and I glance down curiously. A doll, just a doll.

No reaction.

My heart begins beating erratically inside my chest as I start seeing red. My body begins to tremble violently as anger spreads through me as I remember the traumatic weekend I had, and how anxious I had gotten ever since the doll was first gifted to my son.

I rip the doll limb from limb until he was nothing but scraps below me. A doll, just a fucking doll.

I know what I'd do next, burn it.

—Flashback Ends—

I should've felt relieved or lighter as I drove back home from the outskirts of Jacksonville, but I was still tensed as I drove through the forests that littered the outskirts of my tiny town.

I should've felt happy, that the entire episode was finally over with, that I had destroyed the doll, and buried it far far away from my home, from my son, and from myself, but I felt guilty.

Guilty knowing that Matthew would wonder about Maxwell's disappearance, and guilty knowing that — I had unconventionally murdered, a lover.

But, did I really? He was, just a doll. He was just a doll, he'd always just be a doll!

My eyes water as I hiccup, crying as I drove back to Jackson, convincing myself that what I did, was what was best for my son's safety as well as my own.

Maxwell was a psychopath, with murderous tendencies and I couldn't allow him to continue wrecking havoc on the town, when I knew exactly what was happening, and who was responsible. 

The reason as to why it was happening wouldn't be important anymore because I had finally, after two attempts, gotten rid of the sick culprit.

Despite that though, I was still paranoid. The last time I tried throwing him out, he came back. He was able to find himself back to my house, and even kill someone inside my home.

I wouldn't run that risk again.

Especially taking into consideration that I had burnt his body parts into crisps, then shoveled his remains into a leather suitcase and locked it securely with a padlock and key, and then buried the evidence in a hole that came up to my shoulders — I was still paranoid to the point that even after all that, he would come back and find me.

And considering what he was, and his violent nature — that wasn't a risk I was willing to run with my son's life or mine.

I knew exactly what I was going to do, and a week was all I needed to do it.

Even though he had promised to kill me that night, he never did. Instead, he had me captive in my own home as his sex slave as he demolished my body, over and over and over again. Ignoring my persistent cries for him to stop, ignoring my cries about being sore, and tired.

I clench my thighs tightly as I remember the abuse I was put through this weekend, and I shiver as a cold chill runs through me.

Maxwell might've thought that all I desired was sex, that because I had opened up to him, and lament my troubles to him while he was a doll, that gave him any right to treat me the way he did.

He was wrong. God, he was wrong.

Sighing deeply, I finally turn into my driveway. Sitting quietly as I stare at my house.

I was violated so many times in there, I doubt I could even stay there without the memory of Maxwell haunting me. I couldn't stay there without imagining his possessive touch on my skin, or his devastating tongue on my clit.

Swallowing hard, I put my car in reverse, and pull out of my driveway.

I couldn't stay here tonight.

The End

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Epilouge next chapter. Let me know you're thoughts.