•𝙉𝙤𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙪𝙣• [𝘾𝙝𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧]

Chapter 22

You opened google, typing in the name ‘Charles Lee Ray' into the search bar and pressed search, instantly being greeted with the result of articles that dated back to December of 1988.

You clicked on the first result given.

‘Serial Killer Gunned Down', wrote the article's title, in big bold letters. 

‘ A manhunt involving dozens of policemen came to an end when one of Chicago's most wanted serial killers was gunned down yesterday morning in a department toy store.  The news prompted expressions of relief in the local community.' - the article read in it's first paragraph. You scrolled down, eager to read more about the incident.

‘Charles Lee Ray, described by police as ‘ruthless and highly dangerous' was wanted in connection to multiple crimes dating back to 1984 involving the deaths of nine people and injuries of another five, according to state media.'

Your dilated pupils moved from left to right as you skimmed through the words, feeling the hair on the back of your neck stand up on end as a wave of fear washed over you. Goosebumps began to appear on your skin as multiple shivers ran down your spine, you couldn't really put a finger on whether it was because of the harsh coldness of your car's air conditioning, or the uncomfortable feeling you had knowing you were seated next to one of Chicago's most wanted serial killers.

‘He was the chief suspect in a recent kidnapping on Friday and also allegedly shot a police officer who tried to stop and question him over the weekend. ' the other half of the second paragraph stated, your eyes mixed with fear and slight interest as you scanned through the details.

‘Ray was killed in a department store in Chicago's downtown in the early morning on Tuesday after being spotted by undercover police.'

You exited the website after a few minutes of reading through the whole article, learning that Mike Norris was the name of the cop who shot and eventually killed him.

Your eyes landed on another search result, eyes widening at it's title as you immediately clicked on it.

‘Is This Doll Cursed? Boy says Chucky did it!'
Worded  the article's title, written in the same big bold letters, followed by a picture of a smiling boy holding on to a good guy doll that looked almost identical to Chucky, except it didn't have scars on its face and blood stained clothing.

Bold words placed below the picture wrote, ‘Andy Barclay, 6'.

‘The 6-year-old son of an illinois woman, Karen Barclay, recently institutionalized in connection to an unsolved  series of knife assaults told a judge Thursday afternoon that his doll “Chucky" murdered some people and tried to kill him too. '

“oh my God..." You silently whispered to yourself, voicing out your thoughts, eyes turning to the doll, landing on his back that he faced you with.

You could feel your neck start to heat up, accompanying your nervous stage, the air you inhaled feeling sharp and cold, unable to imagine the amount of trauma that Andy probably went through, being placed in that type of situation as a young child. You felt apologetic, thinking of how much pain it must've caused him throughout his childhood, leading up to his adult years, still failing to escape the doll, psychically and mentally.

You were starting to grow afraid of how much trust you had let yourself put into Chucky. Sure, he said you were both even now and he even willingly saved you from the unimaginable, but you could sense that there was a catch that you didn't know about.

You wondered silently, before finally coming to a conclusion that quite actually made sense.

What if the only reason he wanted you to be alive and well was because he needed your help? He wouldn't have made it this far at all if it wasn't for you. Hell, he would probably still be stuck back at the abandoned house, still tied up and gagged on a chair.