November 13, 2024
Michael Travers squinted at his reflection in the cracked bathroom mirror, his face framed by a pair of glasses that had seen better days. Money had been tight for a long time. Being a single dad hadn’t been easy on him, but he’d been doing his best for Andrea. This weekend was her sixth birthday, and she was coming to stay with him. He wanted to make it special, but cash was low, as usual. Desperate to scrounge up a few bucks for a gift, he decided to sell off some of his clothes and even a few items of hers—things she didn’t wear anymore.
He felt a pang of guilt as he slipped her tiny dress into a bag. She’d loved that dress once, had worn it until it barely fit over her head. It was faded now, frayed at the seams, but still, she’d clung to it. But she’s grown up a bit since then, he reasoned. She wouldn’t miss it.
The shop he found was tucked away in a narrow alleyway near his apartment, run by an old woman with a permanent scowl. She looked Michael up and down with a disapproving squint, making her lack of interest in his offerings clear.
“This all you got?” she sneered, poking at his pile of clothes with a bony finger.
“That’s everything,” Michael replied, barely able to hide his frustration.
The woman finally agreed to take only the dress, pushing a crumpled bill across the counter with a stingy smile. He thanked her, biting back his irritation, and hurried out, his steps quickening with the small relief that he had something for Andrea’s birthday.
On his way home, Michael spotted something odd by the dumpster. A doll lay propped up against the metal container, looking almost…deliberately placed. The doll was about eighteen inches tall, with curly black hair and a porcelain-white face. A blood-red bow sat at the top of her head, giving her a sort of eerie elegance. She wore a dress that looked strangely familiar, similar to the one he’d just sold.
Michael looked around, half-expecting someone to come up and claim it. No one did. Seems like fate, he thought. He picked it up, inspected it, and found a pull-string at the back. Curious, he pulled the string, and the doll’s mouth opened.
“We’re going to have fun together,” it said, its voice surprisingly clear. Something about the phrase made his stomach twist, but he brushed it off as nerves.
The next evening, Michael greeted Andrea with a modest birthday setup—some balloons, a small cake, and a single-wrapped present. She tore into the gift and gasped, eyes wide with delight as she pulled the doll from the box.
“Oh, Daddy, she’s perfect! What’s her name?” she asked, looking up with a sparkle in her eyes.
“I’m not sure, sweetheart. Why don’t you name her?” he suggested with a smile.
Andrea pulled the string, and the doll’s mouth opened again. “My name is Elizabeth,” it said, as clear as the first time. Andrea’s eyes widened even further.
“Elizabeth! That’s perfect!” she squealed, hugging the doll close.
As the evening went on, Michael relaxed, watching Andrea play with Elizabeth, the doll’s voice filling the room with sweet, innocent phrases.
But as they were finishing cake, Andrea pulled the cord again. This time, Elizabeth’s voice seemed different, colder. “We’re going to have a visitor,” she said.
Michael frowned, wondering what else the doll was programmed to say. Just then, there was a knock at the door. It was his friend Carrie, who had come by to bring a small gift for Andrea. Andrea barely noticed, clutching Elizabeth like a prized treasure and taking her back to her room.
Carrie laughed it off. “Guess I’m no competition for that doll,” she joked.
After Carrie left, Andrea came back into the room, the doll still firmly in her arms. “Daddy, can we go to the zoo on Monday?” she asked, eyes bright with anticipation.
“I don’t know, honey. I have to work.”
“But Elizabeth says you’re going to have the day off,” she said with childlike certainty.
Michael laughed, amused at his daughter’s imagination. But a few moments later, his phone buzzed. It was Jose, his business partner, calling to tell him that their permits hadn’t gone through. They wouldn’t be able to start work until Tuesday. So I do have Monday off, Michael realized, his stomach tightening.
That night, he was in Andrea’s room, tucking her in. She was telling Elizabeth a bedtime story, her voice soft and happy. Michael picked up the doll, inspecting it more closely this time.
“Where’d you come from?” he murmured, half to himself, pulling the string. Elizabeth’s voice came out in a saccharine tone.
“I like birthday parties.”
He pulled the cord again.
“Let’s be friends.”
One more time.
“Your friend didn’t make it home.”
A chill spread across his spine. He thought of Carrie, but she was long gone by now, likely home safe. He convinced himself that he was being paranoid. It was just a doll—probably programmed with random phrases.
Michael grabbed his phone and called Carrie. It won’t straight to Voicemail. It must be off. That was unlike her, she seldom did that. Dead battery perhaps? It much be that, he thought.
The next day, Andrea played with Elizabeth non-stop, whispering to her, laughing, listening as if the doll could actually respond. Michael tried not to worry. But when he heard Andrea say, “Elizabeth says I’ll have a new daddy soon,” he froze.
Just then, his phone rang, and he saw his ex-wife’s number flash on the screen. He generally let her calls go to voicemail, but something compelled him to pick up. She sounded lighthearted, excited.
“I’ve got news,” she began.
“You’re getting married, right?” he blurted, stunned.
“How did you know?”
“Just a hunch.” He barely listened to the rest of the conversation, hanging up with a hollow sense of dread.
His heart pounding, he went to check on Andrea. But her room was empty. The window was open, the curtains billowing in the night breeze, and on the floor lay a note scrawled in a child’s handwriting: Elizabeth said you’re going to take her away.
Panic tore through him. He ran out into the night, calling her name, asking anyone he saw if they’d seen her. As he made his way back toward the street, he spotted the store where he’d sold the dress. There, in the shop window, was Elizabeth, her blood-red bow and porcelain face glowing under the store’s dim light.
He stormed inside, demanding to know where the doll had come from. The old woman only sneered at him.
“Never left, has she? That one’s special. Been with me forever.”
He grabbed the doll, yanking the string. “I like to make new friends,” Elizabeth said, her voice as smooth as glass.
“Where is my daughter?” he shouted, but the woman only cackled.
He didn’t see her swing the metal coat rack until it was too late. Pain exploded in his skull, and darkness swallowed him.
Michael awoke in a windowless room. His head throbbed, and the smell of damp rot filled his nostrils. He staggered to his feet, his fingers scraping against concrete walls. His hands landed on something cold and familiar—Elizabeth. Trembling, he pulled the string one last time.
“Where’s Andrea?” he whispered desperately.
“With her mommy and new daddy,” Elizabeth replied, her voice dripping with cruel satisfaction.
He pulled again. “How do I get out of here?”
“You don’t,” she replied, her voice echoing through the small room. “This is where you die.”
His screams faded into silence, and in the dark, Elizabeth’s painted smile glowed as if it were alive, her voice echoing in his mind long after he could no longer scream back.
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