Chapter 2:
The Human Girl Entwined with the Doll
That evening, Veronica lay sprawled across her bed, half-asleep, while her mother prepared dinner downstairs. The smell of food drifted through the house, but impatience got the better of the girl.
"I'm hungry!" Veronica called out.
Her mother, still at the stove, replied gently, “Just wait, darling. Dinner’s almost ready.”
“I want something now,” she snapped, her voice tinged with unusual irritation. Her eyes narrowed, her tone firm.
Again, her mother reassured her, “Wait just a little longer.”
Eventually, the meal was served. Veronica ate quietly and went upstairs to her room. An hour passed.
Then — footsteps.
Veronica returned to the kitchen, rubbing her eyes and yawning. “Mama, I’m hungry,” she said drowsily.
Her mother turned, confused. “You already ate, sweetheart.”
Veronica shook her head with tearful eyes. “No, I didn’t. Mama… I was sleeping. I just woke up.”
Her mother, puzzled but soft-hearted, kissed her forehead. “Alright, give me twenty minutes.”
“Okay, Momi,” Veronica replied, with a childlike smile.
Soon after, the front door creaked open. Veronica’s father had returned from the office.
“Go freshen up,” his wife told him. “I’ll serve your dinner.”
He went toward the restroom.
But five minutes later, the doorbell rang again.
She opened the door—and froze.
Her husband stood there again.
“You just went into the restroom!” she said, stunned.
He chuckled. “Darling, I just got home.”
“No, you didn’t! Come with me,” she said sharply, tugging his sleeve.
They walked to the restroom.
It was empty.
“See?” he said. “I came just now.”
From the hallway, Veronica's voice chimed in with eerie calmness, “Mama thought I already ate dinner too…”
Disturbed, her father insisted on taking his wife to the hospital. The doctor examined her and spoke plainly: “She’s showing signs of hallucination. Take a break — go somewhere quiet. A family trip might help.”
They took the advice.
For one week, the family went to Abbotsford, hoping the fresh air and distance would clear their minds.
But when they returned… something was off.
That night, Veronica’s mother lay resting on her bed when she suddenly felt a chill. The lights flickered. A voice echoed faintly in the room — cold, familiar.
It was her daughter's teacher.
Her ghostly presence lingered, whispering, "Your daughter… she killed me."
The mother sat up, heart racing. “She… she can’t even kill a mosquito,” she stammered. “How could she kill you?”
Just then, Veronica walked in, head tilted. “Momi, who are you talking to?”
With trembling lips, her mother asked, “Did you… did you kill your teacher?”
Veronica frowned. “No! I can’t even kill a mosquito. She was a human!”
Suddenly, she screamed, “DADDY! Mama’s hallucinating again!”
Her father rushed into the room. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” his wife murmured, holding her head. “Everything feels… wrong.”
“I just want to sleep,” she whispered.
Veronica helped her mother lie down and turned off the lights. “Good night, Momi,” she said softly, then ascended the stairs to her room.
The door remained slightly ajar.
Later that night, her mother quietly crept upstairs to give Veronica a goodnight kiss. As she approached the room, she froze.
Two voices.
One was Veronica’s.
The other… wasn’t.
Her heart stopped. Peering through the half-open door, she saw her daughter sitting on the bed — speaking to a doll.
But only one mouth was moving.
Her mother backed away, silent, disturbed, confused.
Veronica turned and smiled sweetly. “Hey Mama…”
Her mother forced a smile and entered. “Good night, sweetie.”
“Good night, Mami.”
She kissed her daughter and left — but her mind raced.
How could a doll be speaking?
She went back downstairs and lay in bed, unable to shake the memory of that second voice — the one that wasn’t her daughter’s.
It was the beginning of a descent she could never escape.
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