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Bury me.

The words scream in my head like a curse. My heart hammers so loud in my chest that I don’t even think I’d hear myself if I did scream. But I don’t. I am perfectly silent, too shocked to make a noise; it takes all my effort just to keep standing.

The doll just sits there, wearing a beautiful crimson dress, the single light above my bed casting a spot directly on it. Its head is cocked to the side, just slightly.

It looks like it’s been waiting for me.

Deep down inside, I know this is true.

I know this from the way she stares at me.

I don’t move, and neither does the doll. Though my fingers do shake, and the pasta hisses and steams beside me. I don’t turn off the burner. I just stare at the doll.

Her eyes are deep brown and her hair falls past her shoulders in black ringlets. The locket on her necklace is rusted shut with age, hanging heavily from a leather cord. And her dress … her crimson dress is more intricate than anything I’ve ever seen, let alone worn. Who would ruin such a beautiful thing by painting those words? Who would leave it here?

I’ve never seen this doll before.

I run through the possibilities as my brain clicks into gear.

The door was unlocked. Maybe James snuck the doll in while I was walking.

Maybe Mom left it for me. But that doesn’t make sense, because even though she might get me a doll—despite the fact that I’m too old for a doll—she would never, ever get one with BURY ME written on it, and I can’t imagine she would paint it herself. It’s not her handwriting, anyway.

Maybe a burglar came in and—what? Left something rather than stole anything?

No. That doesn’t make sense.

That only leaves … but no, it’s too crazy to think.

There’s no way the doll came in here on its own. No way it climbed up onto the bed and sat on the pillow—on my pillow, like it knows precisely where I sleep, like it’s been watching me.

I tell myself, There’s no way it’s been waiting for me.

I tell myself, There’s no way it’s alive.

I force out a laugh, hoping it will break the tension. If anything, it sounds hollow. It reminds me just how alone I am out here, and how long it will be until my mom comes home.

“Ha-ha,” I say. “Very funny. You can come out now, James. You got me.”

Silence.

“James?” I say. “Alicia?”

More silence.

The pasta boils over beside me and I yelp, jumping a foot in the air. I turn away from the doll and remove the pot from the burner.

Something moves in the corner of my eye.

I look just in time to watch the doll fall over. It tumbles off the bed and lands on the floor. Upright. Its head tilts to the other side now.

The doll

is

moving.

I don’t think. I run over and grab it, trying not to notice how cold it is despite the heat in here, or how it stares at me with a wider grin than before.

I get to the door and yank it open.

Then I toss the doll as far into the dark forest as I can.

My door is shut and locked before the doll ever hits the ground.