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 had not been easy, but he had 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 did not wear anymore.
He felt a pang of guilt as he slipped her tiny dress into a bag. She had 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 had clung to it. But she has grown up a bit since then, he reasoned. She would not miss it.
The shop he found was tucked away in a narrow alley 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 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 an eerie elegance. She wore a dress that looked strangely familiar, similar to the one he had just sold.
Michael looked around, half expecting someone to claim it. No one did. Seems like fate, he thought. He picked it up, inspected it, and found a pull string on the back. Curious, he pulled it, 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 said with a smile.
Andrea pulled the string, and the doll’s mouth opened again. “My name is Elizabeth,” it said, just as clearly as before. Andrea’s eyes widened even more.
“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 finished cake, Andrea pulled the cord again. This time, Elizabeth’s voice sounded different, colder.
“We’re going to have a visitor,” it 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, dropping by with a small gift for Andrea. Andrea barely noticed, clutching Elizabeth like a prized treasure as she took her back to her room.
Carrie laughed. “Guess I’m no competition for that doll.”
After Carrie left, Andrea came back into the room, still holding Elizabeth. “Daddy, can we go to the zoo on Monday?” she asked.
“I don’t know, honey. I have to work.”
“But Elizabeth says you’re going to have the day off,” she said with certainty.
Michael laughed, amused. But a moment later, his phone buzzed. It was Jose, his business partner, telling him their permits had not gone through. They would not be able to start work until Tuesday.
So I do have Monday off, he realized, his stomach tightening.
That night, he tucked Andrea into bed. She was telling Elizabeth a bedtime story, her voice soft and happy. Michael picked up the doll, studying it more closely.
“Where did you come from?” he murmured, pulling the string.
“I like birthday parties,” Elizabeth said in a sweet tone.
He pulled again.
“Let’s be friends.”
One more time.
“Your friend didn’t make it home.”
A chill crawled up his spine. He thought of Carrie, but she had already left. She had to be home by now. He told himself he was being paranoid. It was just a doll.
Michael grabbed his phone and called Carrie. It went straight to voicemail. That was not like her. Dead battery, maybe. It had to be that.
The next day, Andrea played with Elizabeth nonstop, whispering, laughing, listening as if the doll could respond. Michael tried not to worry. But when he heard Andrea say, “Elizabeth says I’ll have a new daddy soon,” he froze.
His phone rang.
His ex-wife.
He usually let her calls go to voicemail, but this time he answered. She sounded excited.
“I’ve got news,” she said.
“You’re getting married, right?” he blurted.
“How did you know?”
“Just a hunch.”
He barely listened after that, ending the call with a hollow sense of dread.
His heart pounding, he went to check on Andrea.
Her room was empty.
The window was open, curtains drifting in the night air. On the floor lay a note in childish handwriting:
Elizabeth said you’re going to take her away.
Panic ripped through him. He ran into the night, shouting her name, asking anyone he saw. Then he spotted the shop where he had sold the dress.
In the window stood Elizabeth.
Perfect. Still. Watching.
He stormed inside, demanding answers. The old woman only sneered.
“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 smooth and calm.
“Where is my daughter?” he shouted.
The woman only laughed.
He never saw the coat rack swing.
Pain exploded in his skull.
Darkness.
Michael woke in a windowless room. His head throbbed. The air smelled of damp rot. He staggered forward, hands brushing cold concrete.
Then something familiar.
Elizabeth.
His hands trembled as he pulled the string.
“Where’s Andrea?” he whispered.
“With her mommy and new daddy,” Elizabeth said, her voice dripping with satisfaction.
He pulled again.
“How do I get out?”
“You don’t,” she replied. “This is where you die.”
His screams faded into the dark. And in the silence, Elizabeth’s painted smile seemed to glow, her voice echoing long after he could no longer answer.
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