I have to sew it up now. Shelby messed it up while playing with it.
“The thread goes in,
the thread comes out,
it’ll all be good,
then why you gotta pout,”
I sing Mother’s favourite rhyme.
I am coming to think that I am very good at stitching.
I found this doll in my father’s room, he gets angry if anyone touches his things. But he’s a fun father, always talking with his catchphrase: it’s time to have some fun.
As I finish stitching with the last thread, I hear muffled screams coming from my basement.
I totter down the stairs, only to find the door ajar.
It’s unusual, though. Father always keeps it locked up.
It creaks when I slide it open, the noises coming from inside grow stronger.
The shrouded darkness recedes away when I switch the light on.
My eyes avert in horror when I see the source of the noises: a man shackled to the walls, In our basement!
He is covered in blood, part of his skin torn as if some animal tried eating him and other parts poked and pierced.
The doll falls out of my hand and hits the floor. I flinch a little as the man begins screaming in pain.
I near him, my eyes gleaming with sympathy. “A-are you hurt?” I ask.
The man starts crying after hearing my voice.
“It’ll be soon over,” I gently touch his face, “dad.”
My feet retrace my path and I pick the doll up. “That’s exactly how you used to torture us, right? Mother shouldn’t have thrown herself outta that window. She should’ve trusted my skills.”
He glares at me with his reddened eyes as his bloodied body struggles to get out of the bondage.
“Enjoy. Father. It’s time to have some fun.” I grin and switch the lights off again.
I get back to my room and throw the doll towards my dog, “Let’s play, Shelby.”
As Shelby tears apart the doll, the screams from the basement get louder.
I pick up my thread and needle and take the doll back from my dog, ready to stitch it back.
“The thread goes in…” I start singing again.