Chapter Text
Anne always had a quiet home life. Not peaceful. Quiet.
Anne was on the shorter side, an average build and dark brown, almost black, hair. Her mother had immigrated from Japan and her father's family had lived in the US as long as any of them could remember. She always stood in her billowy dresses with her shoulders hunched forward and head bent, her very long hair and bangs obscuring most of her face.
As long as she could remember her father had been a salaryman, spending long days at the office and working overtime. He was almost never at home. Anne preferred it that way. The few times he was home she would scurry away to her room to avoid him.
She learned at an early age how quickly he would snap. If she looked at him too long he would shout about how her staring was creepy. If she stayed where she was when he was around, he would always comment about her being "underfoot". If she tried to get out of the way he would refer to her as a creepy little cockroach jumping at nothing. She was glad it was only yelling. Most of the time.
It wasn't all bad though, if she got out of the way before he was around he would stay quiet, and just go to watch tv in the other room. Her mom taught her how to do that. Her mom taught her everything. They didn't live very far from town, just a bit off a rural road, even so she insisted on Anne being homeschooled. She always said that if Anne went to a normal school that she would stick out.
Anne knew there was nothing worse than sticking out.
~~~
Living isolated out in the woods meant that Anne didn't have many friends. They only ever had one neighbor family, but Anne's parents never wanted to talk to them. Usually it was Mary, the only child of the neighbors family, who came over to play with Anne.
They would play for hours in the woods together, laughing and running; Mary telling scary stories about things that lived out in the dark bits of the forest. Anne would always draw along to Mary's tall tales, making all kinds of monsters out of pencil and paper. Anne loved drawing, and Mary loved Anne's drawings. Around Mary, Anne felt safe. She felt understood, she could always be herself around Mary.
Over the years Anne grew better and better at her craft, drawing as often as she could; sneaking off between chores to doodle. Sometimes her mom would catch her drawing instead of learning her most important skill: domestic duties. Mom always wanted the best for Anne, telling her that a man is always looking for a wife to take care of him, and that they won't want a girl who can't manage a household. That was why her father married her afterall. Mom always got upset when she talked about marriage, said she wished she had stayed in her home country. Anne didn't know what she meant, but knew better than to ask too many questions. Mom didn't like talking.
~~~
As Anne grew older she threw herself into media, taking joy in worlds of fantasy, pictures on the screen and on paper that are the same every time. Worlds where everything ends up alright and all the girls wear pretty outfits. And no one makes fun of them for wearing them. She cut out and colored her own paper dolls, sewed and stitched her own cloth ones- If there was anything she liked more than drawing it was making dollies. It felt like a way to make her creations real, to take imagination and make it into something physical, something personal, something tangible. She loved showing Mary her dolls, Mary was always the one who was most excited about everything she made.
It made mom happy to see her sewing, it made Anne happy to see mom happy.
~~~
Anne stirred in her sleep, rolling over and blinking open sleepy eyes, still clutching her newest clothen creation. She heard arguing from the other room, voices muffled through walls, sounding distant and dreamlike. Even so, she could hear what they were yelling about: sending her to public school. It was the first time she ever heard mom really yelling back at dad. Dad says a woman's place is at home, mom says that Anne'll never meet a husband if shes always at home! She's sick and tired of taking care of Anne all day every day, she's twelve and can barely do anything on her own.
Anne rolls over and covers her ears, trying to block out the noise as tears roll down her cheeks, awkward warmth streaking across her face as she silently sobs. She wishes so badly that she could make herself smaller, quieter. What she wouldn't give to sit up on a shelf, perfectly quiet, pretty, completely still... something to be quietly admired and revered. Oh to be a doll.
~~~
School was bad. Loneliness felt so much more palpable when you were around other people. It's one thing to die of dehydration in the desert, it's another to die of dehydration in an ocean. Mary stopped coming over in the day. Even at night time after school, Mary didn't visit, her one friend and source of joy seemed to dissipate into thin air as the world crashed into her on all sides. No matter how small she made herself, how perfectly she sat still, no matter how pretty she made herself, people squirmed when they looked at her. Why won't they stop staring.
Highschool passed in much the same way. Anne had excellent grades, if she didn't her father would just have something new to be angry about; even though he complained about how back in his fathers day a woman didn't need an education to be successful. She just needed to know how to please a man. Some part deep inside of Anne boiled and churned, her muscles tensing as she desperately bit back what she wanted to say. She knew grandma was a warbride, she knew how her grandfather had stifled her. No one was coming to invade the country, she couldn't do things like how grandma did it. Her father didn't care. He just wanted to complain. She knew what happened if you talked back to father.
Anne graduated like everyone else, and to her surprise, was offered a full scholarship for a university. A university that was a two day drive away.
Anne didn't ask her parents, she didn't even tell them. She silently signed up for as many art classes she could, piling up electives. She didn't think about required classes, she didn't care. She waited impatiently through the summer, checking every day to see if Mary would maybe come back, hanging out in all the spots they visited as kids. They didn't feel like they used to. Now every time she was alone out in the woods she would feel eyes on her. All the drawings from her childhood came back to haunt her imagination now. It would only be a matter of time before she never had to come back here again. She just wished she could see Mary one last time, even her face now seemed to blur into memory.
~~~
Anne got on an early bus, she left a note in her room explaining she was going off to college. She never said which college. Her already sparse room was now rendered barren, any sign of life or humanity stripped out of it and packed tightly into the single suitcase she now clutched to her side. The bus was empty except for her, the driver, and a lone girl in a fur-lined hoodie. The girl had her elbows on her knees and her head lowered, occasionally Anne glanced over at her and caught a peek of bright green eyes through bedraggled brown hair. Anne tried to mind her business, like she always did, not wanting to draw the ire of the stranger. Faint sounds of ticking echoed, stifled by the rumbling of the bus.
Anne peered out of the window, watching the litany of trees blur by. The bouncing of the road and the low white noise soothed her strangely, as her eyes glazed, she swore she saw a flicker of... something... out in the woods. Something tall, black and white, it was only a half second, too short a time to really process what she saw. Anne rubbed her eyes and averted her gaze from the woods. As she glanced back, she saw the other girl was looking at her from under her hair. She must have been from the country, she had deep red clay all over her boots.
~~~
College was good! College was great even! Anne had a dorm room all to herself since her roommate dropped last minute. Despite being shy at first everyone was super nice to her, and all the people in her art classes loved her work! Most of it was inspired by dolls, but nobody minded it, they were excited to see her talent and artistry. There was no yelling except for the excited outbursts of other people on campus having fun and talking with their friends; it created a low constant murmur of happy voices that she could hear echoing in open spaces and muffled through walls.
She threw herself into project after project, carving, sculpting, painting, sewing, embroidery, wig making- she even set herself up with everything she needed to start crafting her own porcelain dolls. Finally being able to craft something truly custom, truly her own. As she sat in her dorm alone, working by the dim light of the setting sun a doll began to take shape, slightly warped, slightly uneven, but with each fingerprint left in the pattern she put another piece of herself into it. Moving on impulse, Anne's hands strayed, giving the doll familiar features; the rosy cheeks and red lips, while exaggerated, didn't mask the fact that this doll looked like Mary. How Anne remembered Mary, at least, perfect, ideal, childlike, a welcoming smile always plastered on her face. It felt comforting to at least have this facsimile of her childhood friend watching over her. It made her feel much less alone, much more confident.
She began to sew herself new outfits, beautiful lacy dresses with wide petticoated skirts. They had soft puffy sleeves and a classic japanese lolita fashion inspiration, like something that would be in an old girly anime from the 2000s. Anne would dress in them and twirl around her dorm, which was now becoming more and more packed with random art supplies and figurines. She couldn't wear these out on campus yet- no not yet, they weren't good enough yet.
~~~
Her first year passed by without a hitch, she glowed, she floated, her feet barely seemed to touch the ground! Then her mandatory classes came crashing down on top of her. She had blown through all of her electives and now had nothing but toil in front of her. It felt like a metal cage coming crashing down around a rabbit that had been frolicking seconds before; she felt like she was running in useless circles, clawing at unfeeling insurmountable walls. What joy she had felt in her life was seemingly ripped out from under her. Hadn't she been working hard all these years? Hadn't she already done enough? She thought she had a handle on all this, why was it so hard? Why couldn't she think straight?
~~~
Anne sat in the dark of her apartment. Not dorm, apartment. A ragtag little off campus studio apartment. The light from her laptop beamed across her face, burning into her already tired eyes. She had dropped all her classes. Her scholarship didn't cover her housing unless she was taking a certain amount of credits. The one good thing in her life. The one thing she enjoyed. Her chance to stay away from her 'home', if you could even call it that. It was all slipping through her fingers. Life had given her a taste of what she could have had, only to have it all ripped from her. It was like someone had stuck their hand into her rib cage and yanked out her soul.
She got by on commissions, she was barely turning profit, but she had to keep her prices low to keep customers coming. Too long of a break between orders could mean being turned onto the street. Or worse. Going home.
'Home' what an insult. Rage boiled barely below the skin of Anne as she continued to mindlessly scroll. How dare they call it a 'home', how dare they even call themselves parents. Her skin prickled as if her revulsion was something alive, something that was pressing its needled hands on the underside of her skin, trying to force its way out. She has been left with nothing almost her entire life, ignored by her avoidant mother, degraded and hit by her stagnating father, desperately clinging onto the little bit of control he could exercise. It made her want to gnash and bite, to sink teeth into flesh and rip it apart like an animal, to force them to see, to force them to feel. To make them feel guilty for the things that they've done, make them confront their sins. Oh to pry them open and grab their souls, to see if they even had them...
"I'm so sorry, Anne."
Anne whirled around in her roller chair, her eyes panickedly scanning over the mounds of half-finished dolls and heaps of fabric. She hastily pulled up her blinds, casting the blueish light of a half moon over the little bit of floor space she still had. Mary was sitting there.
Her doll at least, sitting there, in the middle of the aisle. That isn't where Anne left it- Was it bigger than before? Anne rubbed her eyes and blinked, the doll sat at attention, just as before, her long black, almost brownish hair, pooled on the floor around it, dress perfectly unrumpled, her straw hat perfectly angled. Anne glanced at the clock on her laptop, already past 2am..? She hadn't slept well the previous night, she had heard people sometimes have audio hallucinations when they're tired... She gingerly picked up the doll and placed it back on its own shelf. If there was ever a signal to get some sleep, this was it. She left her laptop on as she crawled fully clothed into bed and curled up, knees tucked to her chest. The digital glow flickering over her still form.
~~~
Anne sat up bleary eyed, bright sunbeams careening directly into her eyes that were already begging that they hadn't slept enough. She winced and barely pulled herself out of bed, stumbling over to close the blinds. Clumsily pulling the cord to let them fall, Anne fainted back into her chair, habitually glancing at her laptop screen. It was open to a tab she didn't remember pulling up, one showing an artist's life size dolls, they all looked incredibly realistic. This is the kinda thing Anne would be interested in, she probably just pulled them up late at night and forgot.
She managed to drag herself out of her chair and back into bed, turning over in every direction but laying awake. She felt herself slowly sink into the cheap mattress, sheets and blankets still perfectly tucked, barely wrinkled from her lithe form's previous squirming. She felt heavy, she had been laying in the same position so long her body fell asleep, but her mind still churned. Eventually her eyes grew heavy, passing in and out of dreams.
"Anne... help me..."
Anne tries to blink awake, her body feels so heavy. Why can't she move... is this a dream? She heard something. She swore she heard something, a familiar voice...
Anne's eyes finally closed as she fell asleep, her mind plunged fully into dreams. There's scratching on the walls, getting louder and louder the more she ignores it, her bed disappears into a rocking sea of black nothing, her head pounds and she grows nauseous from the hideous churning of the bed. Something wraps around her neck, it feels like a hand, but with too many fingers, so many fingers, all soft and cloying, a texture somewhere between cloth and freshly brushed hair.
Anne panics and bolts up in her bed, her voice trying to scream but only a choked silence falls from her mouth. Her chest heaves as she pats herself down, fingers hesitantly tracing her neck... nothing. It was just a nightmare. Her throat still felt tight, she rested her hand on it instinctively, it made her heart thrash in her chest but it was oddly comforting. She gave a breathless sigh and tripped out of bed, meekly walking over to her computer.
She's glad she didn't scream, it always makes her nervous when she has to be loud. As she sat down out of the corner of her eye, Anne swore she saw a tab close on its own. Anne rubbed her sleepy eyes and checked her recently closed tabs. Nothing. This isn't like her...
She checks her messages, hoping and praying for another message from someone wanting to commission something. Anything. But nothing. No messages. Anne felt her stomach churn, rent was coming up. She opens all the social media she has and checks over every profile she has, is there something on them that is making them avoid her? Are they too bright and bold? Don't you have to be flashy to attract customers? Maybe she should have been more subtle and quiet, things work out better if you're quiet.
As she checks all of them, she realizes that all of her 'Commissions Open!' text was gone. All her posts exclusively advertising her work disappeared. Did the site take them down for some reason? But it was on every site- was there someone mass reporting her posts? As she mulled over the thought she was interrupted by a message notification. The small blip accompanied with it made her nearly jump out of her skin.
'Are ur commisions still open?'
'Yes of course! What were you interested in?'
'Wold you consider doing scary dolls? I want something spooky'
Anne paused, considering her options, if she said she hadn't really done anything like that before it might scare them away, she couldn't afford to lose a customer.
'ill pay xtra but its gotta be accurate'
'Yes of course, what are you looking for, and generally what is your price range?'
The unusual customer gave a number with an extra two zeros, Annes eyes widened, she hadn't done something that expensive before-
'ive got instructions but im not paying b4 its done'
The stranger sent a text document, precise instructions, typed in perfect grammar, with links to images for some of the decorative symbols they wanted put on it. So many of them were circles with Xs through them. It was strange but Anne was in no place to question, not with rent coming up, not with how much they were paying.
'I can have it done by the end of the week if I use a pre-made base. There's also nothing about how you would want the hair and clothes to look, do you just want it plain other than the paintings?'
'Oh no, we don't want a premade base. It needs to be lifesize. As big as you are. You are free to decorate it however you should choose.'
Anne squirmed, 'as big as you are', 'we'? She didn't like how these read. Why did their tone shift so suddenly?
'Alright, I can do it, but since it's going to be a lot of work crafting a life sized doll from scratch, I will have to ask for some of my payment up front. I can't afford to spend so much time working on one commission when there's a chance you'll leave before paying. I'm so sorry to ask so much.'
Anne's hands shook, surely this was too harsh, surely this will push them away. This will make them back out. This is the only commission she's had in how long and she's-
'I'll send it within a day.'
'Ok! I'll start as soon as I can.'
Anne minimized the chatlog, hands still shaking a little bit. That's so much money. After a few minutes of gathering herself she started looking into life size dolls. After cross referencing the instructions, she settled on a ball jointed wooden doll with a porcelain mask and face.
Glancing around the room Anne realized that she did not have enough wood or wood finish to make this thing. She was going to have to go outside. She felt herself tense again, sitting in her chair and preparing herself to go out on her own to the store, again. After all the times she's had to go shopping by herself she'd think it'd be easier.
She scrounged around her room, picking up a set of clothes that seemed clean, a pair of threadbare blue jeans, a white tank top, and a zip up gray hoodie as a jacket. She glanced over the floral billowing old fashioned dresses that she had brought with her from home. They were clean and unused, still in a half open box, untouched. How quick she was to abandon everything she knew the first chance she got. Her eyes meandered up to the shelf, briefly falling on the doll who looked like Mary... She averted her gaze hastily, a twinge of guilt and a sickening feeling spreading over her.
Anne quickly shuffled out the door and closed it behind her, a little harder than she meant to. She flinched at the sudden noise but started walking down the steps to the sidewalk, digging a face mask out of her pocket. It was crinkled and a little musty, but having part of her face covered when she was out in public made her feel better. She tucked her long, slightly greasy, hair into her hoodie and pulled up the hood. She'd been growing it out as long as she could remember, her parents always insisted on long hair, even when she wanted to cut it short for her birthday when she was ten. She only got a birthday celebration every five years. Her parents said it saved money. She always made sure to store up her wishes over all those years to spend on the blown out candles. She always wished for friends. Those wishes never really came true.
She shoved her hands in her pockets and ran her errands. As she was checking out, arms full of supplies, her phone buzzed. Checking it, she had received her upfront payment, exactly enough to cover rent, with $50 extra. She glanced around her suspiciously. There's no way they could know that right? It has to have been a coincidence.
She began the slow trek back to her apartment, traipsing along with laden bags. The sun slowly began to set as a little convenience store caught her eye. She did have an extra $50 dollars, something small to boost her spirits wouldn't hurt. She stood outside it, glancing around, what if someone took it while she was gone?
"Need some help?" A flat guarded voice calls. A girl leaned against the outer wall, half shrouded in darkness. Anne flinches, startled by someone unexpected being there. She glanced at the stranger up and down, nervous. Fur lined hoodie, jeans, boots, a green eye peering out of the darkness... she looked familiar but Anne couldn't place it. There was an ambient sound of ticking, making Anne's hair stick on end, it felt like her answer was being timed, she fumbled, trying to respond but only being able to emit a quiet squeak.
"Anne, right? I've seen you around." she hesitated, "... on campus. Did you need someone to watch your stuff."
Anne nodded, unnerved. She didn't like the pause she had to take, but she was probably just clarifying. She might have met her on campus, she was bad with remembering people, and this lady did seem familiar, she looked the age. She was probably a college senior. Anne continued to stand there and overthink before the strange lady interrupted her rabbit hole.
"If you go in, could you get me some wet-wipes. And bandages."
Anne shuffled quickly in the door, feeling incredibly sheepish. She shivered and meandered around the store for a little bit, glancing at an employee. She had no clue where the items that lady asked for were, but the thought of talking to another person made her feel nauseous. She hated it. Pushing down the revulsion and bitterness that she contemned herself for feeling, she browsed the shelves quietly, eventually locating the items requested and grabbing a strawberry sorbet for herself.
After paying, trying her hardest not to make eye contact with the cashier, she slipped quietly outside. She meekly approached the lady, handing over what she asked for. The ticking was so loud when she was close...
The lady dug into her items, wiping off her forehead and hands, then peeling a bandage open and sticking it to her forehead. She hastily stuffed the discard into her pockets along with the rest of the product and picked up a few bags of Anne's stuff. Anne was about to meekly protest, but a blank, expectant glance from the lady was enough to quiet her. She had a cool calm look, but the kind where you could tell that there was something boiling below the surface. One of her eyes was bandaged over, with a big medical pad taped down and long strips of gauze wrapping around her skull.
Anne gathered the rest of her project materials and began walking back to her apartment. Usually Anne's walks were quiet, but the constant, steady, ticking wore on Anne's already frayed nerves. The stranger seemed to sense this, getting increasingly agitated and trying poorly to conceal it. She eventually muttered something quietly about getting a new watch, and how it ended up being really loud. Anne was quick to believe people, more so than was rational, but even now she felt her heart racing. A stranger was following her home and she was letting them, too afraid to say no. Her hands trembled and she had to consciously prevent herself from hyperventilating. Now she understood how rabbits could stress themselves to death.
They made it back to her apartment, the place which scarcely could be called a home. Anne's heart thundered in her chest, drowning out the sound of her own footsteps. She reached her door and quietly glanced around. No one else was here. She was alone with a person she didn't even know the name of. She pulled out her house key, her hands noticeably shaking as metal jangled against metal. She failed to place the key in the lock a few times, keenly feeling the imposing, menacing, presence standing behind her as she had to stoop slightly to open the lock.
The door finally swung open and Anne turned to meekly confront the lady. Who was already gone. Anne peered over the railing of the second story walkway, there was no one in sight. Her eyes naturally trailed over to the treeline of the forest that stretched out over from the left side of the building. College owned land, the ramshackle apartments were built to take advantage of the wooded area as a selling point. Everything was dirt cheap and the plugs sparked sometimes, but at least you can look at trees. Anne hated it. It reminded her too much of when she was young, and all the scary stories of children disappearing into the woods and never coming back.
She gently smacked her face with her hands. She shouldn't think like that. Hate is too strong of a word. She tiredly drug all of the bits and bobs into her apartment, closing the door, a bit harder than she meant to. She flinched again at the loud noise and quietly sorted out everything she needed. She pulled on a respirator mask and started slowly working at the wood she bought. It was late, but she couldn't disappoint on this order, the faster she got this done, the faster she got her commission. Maybe she could buy a car, drive somewhere. Maybe the beach. Anywhere new. She'd even take a spot out in the middle of the woods if it meant going somewhere new.
~~~
Anne dozed, half finished parts still in her arms, her consciousness drifting in and out. Her eyes closed as sleep took over. She felt weightless, floating in a sea of cloth and hair, coils slowly griping onto her limbs. Her eyes shot open as she began coughing, choking. Anne desperately clawed at her throat, peeling away the tendrils wrapped around it. Her violent coughing continued until strands of hair began spilling out of her mouth, Anne desperately grabbed and pulled, yanking out tangled mat after mat of tangled black hair. With a final desperate gasp she was able to fill her lungs and jolt awake-
It was still the middle of the night, Anne fumbled with the respirator she was still wearing. She tossed it aside and shivered. That must have been the cause. She glanced at her unfinished project and sighed, this was going to take eons. She raised herself on shaky, stale legs, and laid in bed, only shedding her outer hoodie. Her long hair, now long enough to be grazing her hips, pooled around her. The feeling of it on her skin made her want to gag. She rolled over, realizing she still had her half melted sorbet. She absent mindedly snacked on it, listless. It brought her a tiny moment of respite. The morale boost was enough for her to toss the empty cup aside and pull her hair back into a bun. It was annoying to sleep on, but at least there would be no more nightmares about choking.
~~~
Sleep still doesn't come easy, as Anne rolls over she sees it's not even dawn yet. She slips out of bed, dropping to the floor and scooting over to continue her work. All day is spent with her nose to the grindstone, working in a fervor. She sits hunched over the wooden base, neglecting breakfast, then lunch, then dinner. As she finally looks up, it's night again, her stomach growls. It can wait a little bit more, she's finally to the carving. Wielding a large chisel and an oversized kitchen knife as backup, she carved out the symbols and shapes meticulously documented in the text document her patron sent. There was something deeply satisfying about sinking a chisel into what looked like a human torso, seeing bits and layers peel away, the resistance it gave to her tools, the visceral feeling of it... the shaky lines and crossed out circles felt oddly natural. Everything was rough hewn, but with some minor sanding the worst of the edges were tamed.
She swirled pine tar that had been melting on a tiny induction cooker with black ink, creating a gloopy mess. She wasn't fully sure the purpose of this, but the design document specified. The makeshift pigment was painted into the deep carvings, making them stand out with their literal pitch black color. Anne finally stood up, satisfied, stumbling backwards on her weak legs. She stumbled to her bed, faint with hunger. What places would deliver here? She picked at random and called a place, just asking for the chef's choice, and clicked off her phone.
The delivery guy knocking half an hour later jolted her awake. She stumbled over to the door, swinging it open. The delivery guy reared backward slightly before he had the better judgment to not react like that. He politely handed off the food and glanced around nervously at the tree line before scurrying off. He didn't ask for a tip, or payment. Whatever, free food. Anne toddled back to her bed, plopping down without her usual meek grace, and dug into her food.
Her laptop chirped with a new notification, her client.
'How goes the process.'
'Torso done. Working on rest.'
'Acceptable. Quick work, you've been abiding by our directions, correct?'
'Yes.'
She set aside the laptop and laid down, curling up again. Sleep came to her quickly, but it wasn't restful. All night it felt like there were eyes on her, all she could taste was wood and pitch. As soon as she closed her eyes she felt like they opened again immediately. It was morning. Or afternoon rather. She slid out of bed and onto the floor, taking up her tools again. There was a rhythm to building and carving something this big, the way the anatomy flowed, the grain of the wood, the smell of pine and ink. More symbols carved, tall trees, circles and Xs, words strung together in nonsensical sentences. Anne grinned, her lips splitting slightly as her mouth tasted metallic, she barely even registered.
Anne continued her work, it was progressing so quickly. The head shape was already hewn in, it needed refinement, but she had a torso, most of a head, and most of an arm. She lay back on her bed, her chest heaving and her eyes wide. Her body shivered. She glanced over at her laptop. That couldn't be right. On its clock it read days ahead of where it should be. Did she put in the date wrong? Didn't it sync automatically with the internet? It was already the end of the month.
On cue there was pounding on the door, the knock, she knew well enough by now, of her landlord. She scrambled for the cash she kept stashed in her pillowcase. All of her rent payment was there. She hadn't remembered cashing her initial payment from her patron, but she must have. It's all here after all. She strided awkwardly to the door, yanking it open and shoving the stack of money into the landlord's confused arms, hanging on the doorframe for support. His face twisted into horror as he saw her, dark circles under her eyes, pale, shaky, hair streaky and greasy, half falling out of a poorly made bun. Her eye twitched slightly as she looked expectantly at him, glancing between him and the money.
He hastily counted and announced that it was all there before hurrying off. Anne slammed the door behind her and plopped back down on the ground to work. All her inhibition dropped as she continued to scrawl and refine and sculpt. She finally crashed and needed to sleep after another day of working without a break. She forced long hair back, running shaky fingers through it. She barely climbed onto her mattress and fell asleep face down, barely after noon.
~~~
Anne sat up on her bed, surrounded on all sides by darkness, the miniature doll of Mary sitting on the end of the bed facing her. The once soft blue eyes now painted over pitch black, iris, pupil, and sclera.
"Please, help me."
Her eyes were trained directly on the doll, long strands of dark hair churned in the darkness below, throwing themself up onto and over the bed, desperately cloying for any kind of land.
"I'm trapped here. It's so small. I can't breathe-"
The porcelain frame of the doll bulged and cracked, a squirming mass bursting out from inside. A long slender, boneless arm planted itself on the bed as the creature freed itself from its tiny shell. A gaunt, rubbery, broad shouldered body followed. Adorned only with a porcelain mask, long dark hair, and a straw hat. The long locks seemed to flow unendingly from its head, spilling in waves, traveling off into the darkness.
"Oh Anne- you must help me- You brought me here. Confined me to that doll- I can't rest Anne- oh I simply can't rest-"
Mary drew closer, leering over Anne's comparatively small form, her hollow eyed porcelain mask staring through her. Painted eyelashes framed the empty sockets, cheeks too rosy, lips too red, and smile too wide adorned the cool smooth surface. There was an aura of malice radiating from her. The creature's hands lead off to long strands of hair and cloth, a poor mimicry of 'fingers' with ten or more on each hand.
Anne's breath hitched, tears beading in her eyes.
"It was him, he did this to me, Anne."
The creature towered over her, taking one long arm and forcing its cloying 'fingers' into her chest, between her ribs. The thing seemed to try to crawl inside her, slick hair slipping between organs, settling in her stomach.
Anne woke with a start and nearly gagged, cupping a hand over her mouth as she heard knocking at the door. A voice politely called out, saying that her order was there. She stumbled to the door, barely opening it. She slipped some money out the door and hastily brought in the food. She didn't know what it was, she didn't care. She didn't order it. She knew she didn't.
She sat back on her bed, glancing down at her food. Her eye was finally drawn to her arms, they were coated with bruises, all in organic shapes. She recognized a couple of the symbols. Large circles with Xs through them, mad scribblings that barely looked like words. She let her head fall into her hands. She didn't remember getting these. Anne peered through her fingers. She didn't remember finishing the arms, down to perfectly jointed fingers.
There was no lagging feeling of sleep over her, she was awake and aware, just strangely restless. Calluses adorned her hands, products of work already forgotten. There was only one thing to do. Body moving on its own, she slumped from her bed to the floor, feverishly working on the doll again. Only the legs and the head left. Then the clothes. Then the wig. Then the masks.
Anne raised her head again, she didn't know how many hours it had been. The laptop still glowed brightly. It was already halfway through the month. Anne caught the barest reflection of her face in the screen of the laptop; she raised her hand, touching her fingers to her cheek. Something warm and wet spread on her pale face, she sluggishly pulled her hand back to look. Blood, that's what it was; her fingers were worked raw and had begun to bleed. Anne fished around in an old box, pulling out a pair of tight fitting black gloves, slipping their silky exterior over her hands.
She fell back to the floor, continuing her work.
~~~
She sat on her bed. The doll sat across from her on a chair. She was dressed finely, long white tights with mary jane shoes, a dark navy dress with a large bell skirt stuffed with so many petticoats that it looked like an inverted teacup, white lace accents, long sleeves with perfectly round puffed shoulders, a high collar and ruffly neck and white silken gloves. The doll was posed demurely, her knees bent in the same direction so her feet barely touched the ground, hands elegantly folded together over her lap, shoulders squared. If it weren't for the lack of face and hair, she could easily be mistaken for a person.
Anne sat across from her, easily mistaken for a corpse. Her eyes lazily trailed over to the laptop, chatlog with her patron open.
'She's almost done.'
'Well done, wage well earned. We will send another advance. When can we expect it to be done.'
'End of week.'
She slowly peeled her eyes away from the laptop, turning it away from her, never closing it. Anne pulled her knees up to her chest, letting her eyes close, idly wondering what will visit her this time.
Sleep clutched at her, pressing the air from her lungs. Her eyes opening in her dark hell again. She scarcely raised her head, looking over her body haplessly, not on a bed, but on a wooden dining table, one all too similar to the one from her childhood house. The floor extended down forever, the now familiar infinite sea of sleek hair and cloth.
Mary's hands reached up to grasp the table, hauling herself up from the churning mass as if she weighed nothing.
"Hello Anne."
She began stalking toward, hair writhing out from the mass to grab Anne's ankles, holding her in place.
"I need somewhere. To stay. I can help you. Let me in."
Anne tried to say something, anything, her voice scraped, only stuttered harsh squeaks burbled from her throat. Mary didn't wait for confirmation, sharp hair dug under Anne's skin, sliding between bone and muscle, entangling with whatever was already there. Anne panted, writhing in pain. The texture of slick hair and abrasive cloth underneath her skin made her feel ill, but her body felt so heavy.
Anne furrowed her brows. Taking control of the situation with what little courage she had, she forced her body to relax. Whatever this was, she was going to embrace it. This had to be happening for a reason, maybe one beyond what she could understand right now, but this was her friend. In a new form perhaps, but she was asking for help after all these years of being separated. It would be callous to deny someone so desperate of their wish. It was clear she was trying to help Anne... in some way. Mary's demeanor changed, a strange tickling of glee. Anne squeezed her eyes shut, and when she opened them again, she was on her bed. In her apartment.
She sat up and groaned, stretching. Bruises were still on her arms. She pulled a long strand of hair out of her mouth and shuddered. Gross. She stood onto her own two feet, sizing up the doll in front of her. She was proud of her work. It was pretty, quiet, perfect, all the things she so desperately wanted to be, but never truly could. Strangely the usual pang of jealousy, quickly followed by a chaser of guilt for being so selfish, never emerged. She rolled her neck and cracked her knuckles. Before setting to any work she heard another ping from her laptop.
'Have you almost finished the product.'
'Yep! Just the wig and a couple of masks, I know you only needed one but I wanted to make a couple anyway.'
'Excellent.'
'Oh one more random question, I get the feeling you wouldn't mind if the wig was real hair, you said you wanted something 'spooky' after all. Is that something you're up for?'
'Naturally, if you're willing to provide.'
Anne felt herself grin. She pulled her obscenely greasy hair back into a ponytail and grabbed her toiletries. Rummaging around her apartment she found one of her old outfits from her first year at college: a cute pink dress with white accents and bows, short puffed sleeves, and a circle skirt. This wasn't as badly made as she remembered. Anne smiled and tucked it under their arm.
They strode down to the public showers, her apartment not having a personal one, and ran the hot water. They tugged off their old clothes. She couldn't believe that she had been wearing that for so long, completely inelegant. She stepped in and began slowly and meticulously un-matting her hair. She eagerly washed and lathered her long locks, using multiple entire bottles of travel-sized shampoo and conditioner. She smiled, humming very very quietly to herself. The hot water felt so comforting and refreshing.
Eventually she stepped out and dried off, slipping on the new dress, along with the petticoat she had brought with her for it, white tights, and long white gloves, something simple to hide the marks on her skin. They didn't bother her anymore, but she didn't want people asking questions, not when she was so close to perfection.
Coming back to her apartment she shoved everything to the side, stacking things precariously, anything to quickly clear the floor space. They quickly spread a tarp over the ground and knelt down, snatching an old pair of fabric scissors. She hastily pulled long, taught chunks of hair and cut them away. She neatly arranged the long, perfect, clippings on the tarp in front of her. She grinned, her excitement only growing with more and more hair that fell.
They sat back on their knees, face alight, almost manic with glee. They ran their hand over their rough hewn hair, now short and choppy, the lightest and shortest it'd ever been. They whirled around, snatching an empty wig cap out of one of her still packed moving boxes.
It wasn't long before the wig took shape. It was maybe a few inches shorter than Anne's original hair was, but it was still incredibly long. She settled it neatly onto the crown of her new creation, long straight black hair. Anne cackled in delight and dove for one of her mask bases, bursts of inspiration striking her all at once. She painted bright yellow eyes with thick gorgeous lashes, a bright flush for the cheeks and dark black painted lips with a wide smile nearly dividing the face in half.
She notched the mask into the pre-cut recess she had made in the face. She stared at the doll. The doll stared back.
We did it Anne . A voice, similar to her own, echoed in her head. Now we can do what you always wanted . What she always wanted? No matter how hard you shoved it down it always clawed its way back up, living in your soul, haunting the back of your mind . You always wanted them to see their own sins. Them? She hadn't seen them in forever, she was over it by now. No, you aren't. And you know that, think about it Anne, wouldn't it be sooo nice to see them scream, to see them be scared of YOU for once? Anne felt phantom hands on her shoulders, something, or someone, trying to reassure her, coax her into agreeing. She didn't need much coaxing.
Anne leaned her head forward, letting her eyes half shade, her smile dropping even as a strange euphoria boiled inside her. How could she though, her hatred was warranted but- Didn't you ever wonder why I stopped visiting when you grew up. It was your parents fault, your father. He's the one that did this to me. He stumbled out into the woods when I was playing once, it's his fault I never came around again. They never found my body.
He killed me and you're going to sit here and let him get away with it? He stole your happiness, they stole your childhood, they took me away from you. The only thing you could ever feel yourself around, your closest friend, the one who understood you down to your very core. Anne trembled, not with fear or sadness, but with rage. Everything she had pushed to the side came rushing back all at once, all reacting and spilling over in foaming waves. Hate. Hate . Her fingers clenched her knee. Her nails dug in, drawing bright crimson blood that trickled down, staining the pure white leggings.
She'd still be caught. She'd immediately be the number one suspect. They had robbed her of so much she couldn't let herself be caught. They were not going to ruin the rest of her life like they had ruined the beginning of it.
There was a knock at the door. Anne glanced at the clock. It was already dusk. They stood, swaying slightly on their feet, like a doll whose strings were a little too loose. They straightened themselves and went over to open the door.
It was the girl again. Ticking sound, fur lined hoodie, brunette hair. She glanced around suspiciously, seeing if there was anyone else around.
"Hey, Anne."
"Hello." She replied, simply.
"Did you know that there's a cosplay event. Cosplay karaoke. It's happening in three days, right here in town."
Anne and the girl stared at each other for a few quiet seconds, steadied by the consistent rhythm of a ticking clock. It was a good relief from the quiet. Blood continued to drip quietly down Anne's tights. She felt like she had a quiet, instinctual understanding of the stranger. The stranger seemed to share this acknowledgement.
"Do you want to come? It would be all night ." The stranger stated, speech perfectly in sync with the ticking.
"Perfect. Will there be lots of people around?" Anne murmured.
"Oh plenty, tons from the college. Especially ones who were already in... crafty classes. Maybe you'll see some of your old friends there."
"I'd love to go." Anne grinned, the corners of her mouth straining.
"Could I come by day off and get your help with an outfit and wig. And some very heavy costume makeup. If you're familiar with that... field."
"Absolutely. See you then ."
The stranger gave the same impish smile and turned on her heel, hands stuck in her pockets as she started for the stairs. She paused briefly, throwing over her shoulder:
"By the way, your hair looks way better short." Before continuing her way down the stairs. Anne's eyes trailed her path briefly before the strange ally disappeared into the treeline, quickly being engulfed by the shadowy forest.
Anne closed their door. Their laptop pinged, on cue. She settled on her bed and checked the message.
'Send to the address listed below, do not write the return address as your apartment. Anywhere else will do. Preferably a doll factory in an area that is not near to you. It should arrive in just under three days.'
Anne's patron sent an address. One off from the address of her childhood house. Mary's home. Anne smiled to herself, a strange peace in her soul.
'Thank you.'
~~~
Days passed. A large box was neatly delivered to the mailbox of a decrepit house. Gloved wooden hands pressed against cheap cardboard, forcing open packing tape. The new form crawled out, careful not to muss her perfect white tights. She dusted off her puffy skirt, running her hands over it to smooth it. Her wooden joints creaked slightly, but that was fine. She fixed the ruffled white headband that had been bestowed upon her just before packing, and started across the street. She already knew where to go. She had walked these paths many times before.
She stood on the front stoop of the house, yellow light glowing within. Wood rapt against wood as she knocked and waited. She was very patient. Very quiet. Very still. The door creaked open as a male figure stood just inside.
"Anne? Is that you?"
~~~
Anne stood up on stage, microphone in one hand, leaning on one knee as she half screamed, half sang, along to the lyrics. The bright color changing lights illuminated her in all her glory, loud, exorbitant, extroverted, overjoyed. All the things she had never been in her life up until that night. The bass-y music covered the soft sound of ticking from the stranger who stood in the corner, dressed in clothing, a wig, and makeup that left her practically unrecognizable. She smiled, seeing Anne on stage, pouring her heart out; her eyes squeezed shut, her fluffy dress and cosplay bunny ears bouncing in time to the music. The crowd was eating this up, all eyes were on her.
Good.
~~~
Anne didn't get home until about 7am, which was fine with her. Her sleep schedule was already screwed; she didn't even feel tired, still running on the high of last night. As she stepped into her room and closed the door behind her, she realized she was standing on something. An envelope had been slipped under her door. She picked it up and thumbed it over, no return address, just simple cursive letters in the top corner that read 'payment'.
Anne opened it and took out a very formal card, dark black with a white circle, crossed out with an X, on the bottom right. As she opened it cash fluttered out, strewing itself across the floor. It was a mix of bills, $100s, $20s, $10s, $5s- but it seemed to all be there. Anne glanced back at the card, it had more of the simplistic cursive script.
'You've proved an invaluable asset. As such I would like to extend you an offer for further employment. It is a diversion from your usual type of work, but we have reviewed your skills and experiences, and believe you are qualified. You and your 'friend' may split the workload, or work in shifts if you prefer, once she returns.
'The job will be at the site of an abandoned manor, we plan on its restoration. The majority of the 'workforce' is already located on site. Your expectations will include basic home cleaning and maintenance, cooking for on site staff when necessary, facilitating supply runs, and possibly mending or cleaning damaged clothing for other staff. Reliable transportation is preferred.
'Our associate will be by in a few days to inquire about your answer. You should already be familiar with her. Until then, you should know what to do.'
Anne re-read the card a few times and tucked it discreetly into the vents of her non-functioning heating system. She could find a better place to hide it later, for now she had to prepare for when the police arrived.
~~~
Her apartment was tidied by the time there was a knock at her door, she had spent the rest of the morning cleaning and evening out her new haircut. It would be cute to grow it out to a pixie. Anne opened the door carefully, with all the decorum that was expected, she was dressed plainly, a simple white tank top that had been cut off into a crop top and a pair of jeans trimmed into jorts.
Anne was brought in for questioning. Late last night an unknown person forced entry to her parents home, and had brutally murdered the both of them. Anne was never close with them after she left for college. She hadn't been to that house in ages. Even so she was considered a suspect. Her long, dark hair was found at the crime scene. She did use to live there, wouldn't it make sense for her hair to be there? She ran a hand over her new, short, prickly hair for emphasis.
The cops asked more questions, Anne remained quiet, she was good at being quiet. She only answered when necessary. She was quiet. She was good at being quiet.
Others were brought in for questioning once it was clear that they were making no progress with their primary suspect. There were at least half a dozen witnesses that confirmed they had seen Anne the night of the crime, up on stage at the karaoke event. How could it have been her? It was a multi-day trip by car to that house, and she was seen leaving the event early in the morning. The trial still went on, but the case was quickly resolved with an acquittal from the judge, who looked annoyed that this case was even brought before her.
As she walked out of the courtroom, her lawyer still in tow, he scratched his head.
"Miss Miller, have you always gone by Anne?"
"Of course I have, why?" She asked, her voice mellow and smooth, her hands folded in front of her as she walked.
"Oh it's nothing, just a little odd. Usually people with multiple names will- ah you know, it's nothing. Sorry to keep bothering you, this all must have been very stressful. I hope things improve for you in the future."
"I have a feeling they will."
On June 10th, 2016: Mary-Anne Miller was acquitted for the murder of her parents.