Chapter Three: The Doll

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That blood is soaked into the floor..

I can see the ripped windpipe in his throat..

Why is the mirror shattered?

This is the murder scene that you'd expect see in one of those horror films..

I held my hands close to my chest as I cautiously enter the site.

Carefully approaching the body, I walked around to get a better view of their stilled face.

Though his eyes are open, they are not alive.

Was he murdered by the other man I saw?

Wait..

Where did he go?

Turning my head, I ignored the return of the throbbing pain in my head and scanned the room for any trace of the man.

Nothing..

Almost as if he had vanished or had never existed in the first place.

But I saw him.

He is real.

Paranoia wrapped around me as a sixth sense took over, alerting me that I was not alone.

Although I could not see him, I felt his gaze as I stood in the middle of the room.

Turning around, I made my way out of the room at a slow anxious pace, afraid I'd repeat my earlier events.

Being sure to scan everywhere I could from standing in the doorway for the man, he was gone but I felt him with me somehow.

I quickened my pace as I searched for a way out, thinking that if needed, I'd climb out the nearest window.

Soon, I stumbled upon the kitchen again and immediately took note of the doll that still sat next to the kitchen sink, staring off with its lifeless eyes.

Hesitantly, I made my way over and took a closer look at the doll.

Its jagged cracks were noticeable but the pieces looked to be carefully held together by glue.

The small clothes were tattered and a few deep red spots freckled over the thin fabric.

"Don't leave me.." a boy's voice rang out behind me, causing me to flinch as I snapped my body towards them, only to see that the childish voice belonged to that man.

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