WHO: Rose Zeller and Astoria Greengrass WHEN: 22 April 2005 WHERE:Their home. WHAT: More presents neither wanted RATING TBD
It came to the office. A plain white box addressed only to her. It looked so innocent but in her heart she knew she wouldn’t like whatever was inside. She left work early, unable to risk another doll beginning to talk inside the box. She wanted to get rid of it. Throw it away and never think of it again but what if someone found it? What if it came back? She couldn’t risk it. There might not be anything inside. It was only a box. She was letting whoever was doing this to her get in her head and she hated it. So now she entered her flat, making sure Rose wasn’t home before going into her room.
The box lay on her bed as she stared down at it. Her hands traced the lids of the box, trying to convince herself to open it. Someone was playing a prank. Someone with too much time on their hands. She was one girl, a girl who stayed out of politics. Perhaps it was nothing. Perhaps it was a gift or something from work. It probably was. She shouldn’t be so vain as to think someone would spend so much time trying to upset her. Day after day she was becoming more paranoid. She felt eyes on her back, heard sounds against the door and window. A part of her knew she was overreacting but her safe bubble of naivety had been burst. On the other hand, she didn’t have any enemies, not on such a personal level. She would open the box and it would be nothing.
It took her seven more minutes to open it.
Another doll. Another horrible caricature of herself lying lifeless in the box. She picked it up, her eyes growing wide as she saw what was different about this one. It was still her, still wearing the same clothing as she was but this one wouldn’t speak. Its tiny little lips had been sewn shut, traces of what looked like blood visible with each puncture. The detail would be impressive if the wind hadn’t been knocked out of her. Her eyes tried to look away but they were halted by its arm. A brand had been seared in, just like Daphne’s. Astoria threw the doll against the wall, curling in on herself at the foot of the bed. The box tipped to the side and more items fell out.
They were outfits. Little outfits for the doll. Her hands pushed aside one after the other, her nausea rising as the realization sunk in that they were her wardrobe for the week. Every single outfit she had worn, right down to the smallest detail. Each outfit had a word written across the chest. Her mind was spinning too quickly to make sense of it. She stared at the words blindly before finally making sense of it. Tell. Anyone. And. I. Will. Hurt. Them. Did they know about her talk with Adrian? Did they think she said something to Isaac? What if she was putting them at risk? Whoever sent this had been watching her, they had to. How else could they have known? Every day. Every. Day. Why were they doing this to her? She pushed herself away from the items, scanning the room as if the perpetrator was there. Did they know where she lived? They must! Something was knocked over in the next room and she just as suddenly she was screaming.