Page 14 of A Doll's Curse

“Kill them all,” Belinda echoed, her voice barely louder than the whispers, but unshaken.

The whispers surged again, shrieking through her skull like rusted nails scraping glass. The wind tore at her hair,yanking it in every direction. Strands slapped her cheeks, stuck to her lips, and curled around her throat like they meant to choke her.

The voices seemed to have hands of their own, clawing at invisible things that scraped her scalp, tugged at her skin, and grabbed fistfuls of her hair like they wanted to rip her open. It was not a breeze. It was not calm. It was chaos, a violent snarl of wind and madness.

“Kill them all,” she said again, firmer now.

Blood welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks like tears. She couldn’t see, but she didn’t need to. She could feel everything. The wind had stripped her bare, ripping away the emotions of her past and replacing them with the voices that clawed and whispered around her. Her soul was growing weaker, but her body felt stronger, hardened, fueled by something ancient and cruel.

Now she could see the things Pin wanted her to see. Her father’s past. The deaths of her grandparents, and every monstrous thing her mother and father had ever done. Their sins were hers now, stitched into her skin like inherited scars. And they would pay for what they had tried to bury. They would pay for every scream they caused, and for every shadow of sorrow they left behind.

Remembering the whispers of that green-eyed woman, everything made sense now.

Belinda finally understood why her mother lived like a ghost, hollowed out and hidden, numb to anything real. Facing the truth would have shattered her. It would have driven her straight to suicide. So instead, she chose to sleep through it all. Day after day. Night after night.

“What is life when you’re already dead?” Belinda thought.

“You killed that slut first. Now kill the old bitch,” Pin said. Her voice was grim, cold as rot. It was the first time she had spoken aloud. “Eighteen at last!” Pin rejoiced.

In her mailbox was a letter that belonged to the Emmerson mansion. “What could it be?” Miss Nancy wondered. She lifted the letter towards the early morning sun, but the watermarks made its contents impossible to read.

After bringing the letter inside, she headed to the bathroom where she kept her hairdryer. After running hot air through the envelope’s glued tab, the stickiness loosened enough to be gently opened. Carefully, she removed its contents, unfolded the letter, and began to read.

“Savannah Emmerson, call us today about your car’s extended warranty!”

“What in the fuckery is this shit?” Miss Nancy growled as she placed the letter back in the envelope before sealing it again. “She can keep her goddamn trash,” she thought, as she headed towards the front door, mumbling obscenities under her breath.

After putting the letter into the mansion’s mailbox hanging outside the fence, she noticed Antonio running up from behind her. As he got closer, she stepped further away from the tall metal fence.

“Good morning,” Antonio politely announced.

“It would be good if the mailman wasn’t such chicken shit and stopped putting the wrong mail in my box!”

Antonio stopped running, aggravated by the old lady’s attitude. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I don’t blame the guy for not wanting to stop here. It gives me the chills just to look at this place.” Antonio continued.

“Tony, Tony, Tony, then why run through here every morning?” Miss Nancy asked.

“Uhm, excuse me?”

“Yeah, I find it very odd that you stop by these gates every morning.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You can’t hide from me, Tonnnny. You know her, don’t you?”

“No. You know, I’ve got to get going. Nice talking to you, as usual.” Before Antonio could continue running, Miss Nancy moved closer to him with more interrogatory questions.

“Did you know she was a brotherfucker?”

“No, she…They weren’t…” Antonio’s hands began to sweat.

“Ohhh, so you do know her.”

“Look, we did go to school together. A long time ago.”

“I know she was raped. I heard once that she killed Tripp, ate him, and buried him in her yard. Who knows how many bodies must be buried under that ground. Another reason why I never call the city on her; I’d rather not fuck around to find out!”

“What in the hell is your problem? Why don’t you ever mind your own business, eh? Also, I fucking hate being called Tony.”