CHAPTER 8 Silent Watcher

Veronica's lids slowly opened, daylight coming through the blinds and leaving gray stripes on her bedroom floor. Something was. wrong. There was a fearful stillness in the air, the walls even seeming to suspend their breath, waiting. She opened them wide, struggling to push the heavy weight of the air out of her lungs, and saw at once: Elizabeth was not there. Not, at least, beside her. It was her doll, Elizabeth's small replica, where her friend should be sleeping. Its small face was so minute and delicate that it felt close to life in the aurous tones of dawn.

She clasped it to her breast. "Sometimes… you frighten me," she breathed hardly, her voice cracking on a tiny shiver, "but I love you." She felt the heaviness of its eyes, though she knew she had a doll.

In the hall belowstairs, her mother's soft, calm voice broke the un-life hush.

"Veronica, dear!"

"Yes, Momi!" she exclaimed, darting across the floor to the stairs, her bare feet thumping out a light rhythm on the chilly floor.

Her mother was at the bottom of the stairs, smiling kindly. "We're going to the doctor. You have an appointment."

"Why, Mama?" Veronica demanded,

"Don't worry, it's just for checkup," her mother comforted, smoothing a strand of hair back behind Veronica's ear with a familiar gesture, but pausing there for an instant.

Veronica hurried to get dressed, clasping the doll tight against her body. when she descended the stairs Her mother continuously started to brush her hair when. The strokes were deliberate and firm, but Veronica could see her mother looking at the doll continuously.

And she noticed: the doll smiled at her. Not naively, childishly like a toy, but quietly, nearly knowingly. Her mother didn't move, her hand trembled slightly as she continued combing. When she glanced again, the smile was gone. The doll's face was once again empty… but something unmistakable was in the little eyes.

Brushing aside the glummer fear, Veronica sprang up, gazing at her waiting father, resting against the car.  "Daddy, my doll is so cute!" she pranced up and down.

"Yes, of course," he replied, smiling at her. But even he glanced down at the doll with a glimmer of fear, as if something just beyond the grasp of understanding.

"Come onnnnn! Let's gooooo!" Veronica cried out, her laughter echoing in the morning, pure and innocent.

The hospital welcomed them with cold sterility and the antiseptic scent so unlike the warm comfort of home. Veronica held the doll close against her body as she sat beside her mother, the doctor readying for the checkup.

"Open your mouth, Veronica," he commanded harshly but gently.

She complied, parting her small mouth, and felt the pricking pain of the needle going into her arm. She winced for a second, but remained still unobtrusively. She then quickly ran right back immediately to her parents right away, sitting on the lap of her father as if secretly. Her hand clasped over the soft shape of the doll as if finding solace in it.

"Daddy, when do we go home?" she asked in a little girl's soft voice.

No time to respond to her father, for suddenly pandemonium broke out. The nurse had spilled the blood test, the glass vial shattering into a million shards of glass on the cold floor in an awful, splintering crash. The doctor reeled backward in horror, stumbling down a short flight of stairs. Veronica stood rigid, wide eyes, shaking body.

No! I'm never donating blood again!" she exclaimed, stepping back from him. Her father glanced at her mother, his face stern but not angry.

"She'll donate later," he said gently, leading her away.

They departed from the hospital in silence, the morning's bright sunlight not capable of brushing aside the still tension that was surrounding them. In the evening, there were rumors that were spread falsely stating that the hospital had been burned. Such a terrible act that everyone was talking about in the city, but no motive was ever revealed.

The next morning, Veronica woke up as usual. She showered, got dressed in her outfit of the day, and got ready to go out.

“Mommm, I’m going out for a walk!” she called cheerfully.

“Go, sweetheart,” her mother replied, smiling softly.

Veronica emerged out of the light, the doll still wrapped in her arms. Its quiet presence bore down on her more forcefully than ever before, felt alive, watching everything she did with a hidden eye she both felt and saw. She shivered all down her spine, but she did not let it go, as if something ethereal bound them together.