"Very," I said, rolling my eyes inwards.

"You don't believe me, do you?" She asked.

"I do, Mrs Summers," I said, truthfully. I would be the only one who would believe your strange story.

"I am sorry, Miss James. But the doctor has to give Mrs Summers medicines. Will you kindly step out?" A nurse asked as she opened the door with feather like grace.

"But I am not finished," Mrs Summers argued.

"Don't worry Mrs Summers, I will come tomorrow," I told her. I sighed in relief as I stepped out of her room.

******************

I was in my room late that evening when Becky came barging in, looking wild as ever. With her frenzied blonde hair that had cotton and feathers stuck to it and the wicked scowl engraved on her face, she looked like a little vagabond. The blonde doll, Bethany, looked like it had been rundown by a raging truck and she carried it by it's torn arm.

"What is the matter, my hell child? Did you have a wrestling match with a pillow?" I asked her as I began taking out the feathers from her hair. Honestly, what was she doing? She snuggled closer to me and the scowl disappeared.

"I feel so tired, Allie," She whispered hoarsely. Black circles surrounded her eyes. And her green eyes were faded. She put her frail arms around my neck.

"What happened?" I asked, suddenly feeling scared. Her lips trembled and tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.

"Am I a bad person?" She asked. I narrowed my eyes.

"No, sweetie. Why do you think so?" I asked her.

"Momma hates me. Daddy hates me. Scarlett hates me. Rosie hates me. You hate me," She sobbed. My eyebrows furrowed worriedly.m

"I don't hate you. Nobody hates you. Why do you think so?" I asked, holding her firmly by her small caps of her shoulders.

"I know that. You are lying. Everybody hates me," She protested. How do I make her understand? My throat throbbed painfully with each raspy breath I took. I placed her tiny palm on my chest which was hurting with each beat of my heart.

"I don't know about anyone else. But I love you," I told her, my voice cracking. My vision blurred with my tears but I could see Becky looking equally emotional. She crushed my body to hers and we cried together.

I cried until there were no more tears to shed. I cried thinking about many things. Esther's mutilated corpse lying dead on Scarlett's carpet. Elizabeth's sad smile at the prison. Old Monner's shattering cries on his daughter's funeral. Scarlett muffling her loud cries with the pillow each night. Becky's innocent tears. My blackened palms. Jane's torturous soul. Hailey's lack of motherly concern.

When Becky started yawning and her eyes began to droop. I wiped away her tears. I placed her on the bed and kissed her forehead.

"Would you mend Bethany for me?" She asked innocently.

"Yes, certainly," I told her.

"Do your best to mend her. But I know she won't be the same," She said. Her words strangely send a shiver through my spine.

"I love you too," She mumbled in her sleepy daze.

"I know," I smiled at her tiny resting figure. I felt fresh after an emotional breakdown.

Wiping away my tears, I hurried downstairs to find thread and needle. I carried both the dolls in my arms. I would have passed the living room not noticing, if not for the rumbling chuckle, I heard. Seated on the sofa was a very frustrated looking Hailey and next to her was a shrivelled old woman who I found difficultly in recognising. And I frowned when I did. Esther's evil grandmother.

"Allison?" Hailey beckoned me in her uptight voice that was reserved for me.

"Yes?" I answered.

"Talk with her. I will make dinner tonight," She said, looking relieved on seeing me. I was infuriated. So, she can dump everything she finds difficult on me. Not in a mind to argue, I sat next to the old lady while Hailey disappeared to her bedroom.

"The kitchen's that way," I called out to Hailey's retreating back. She send me a threatening glare before diverting her direction to the kitchen. The old woman chuckled next to me.

"You are quite an evil girl," She remarked. I smirked at her, realising that the woman wasn't that bad as I had initially thought.

"So, um why are you here, Mrs um-" I stuttered, trying to recall her name.

"Philip. Call me Delores," She prompted.

"What brings you here, Delores?" I asked.

"I wanted to invite your family to my granddaughter's funeral," She said as she edged towards the corner of the sofa. Her old wrinkled face lit up.

"But the funeral is over," I said, puzzled.

"Bah! You call that a funeral. I want to conduct one in my style," She stated proudly. I rolled my eyes at her. I just can't believe this woman. She is talking as if it's some party.

"I know what you are thinking about me, though most of the things are incorrect. I never knew my granddaughter's a shrewd liar. I do indulge myself in a bit of witchcraft and I do enjoy dancing around fires. But I absolutely despise human meat, though I have a fetish for eyeballs," She said, looking into my eyes. Her eyes were so pale that it was almost colourless. I gulped. How did she know?

"Don't give me that look. Those who have witch blood through their veins are able to read minds. I don't know if you have noticed but Esther was able to do that too. Yea, I am evil," She concluded. Witchcraft! Is the world going insane? Or probably it's just me?

"And you are not bad yourself, considering you have two of humanity's deadliest weapons in your hands," She exclaimed. I looked down at the two bedraggled torn dolls in my hands.

"How do you know that-" I asked, puzzled.

"That the dolls are evil?" She completed. On seeing my incredulous expression, she laughed out aloud.

"Well, how do you-?" I asked annoyed.

Looking at me and raising her snow white eyebrows, she answered," Who would know them better than the person who made them?"

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I am dying for feedback!! Please post something. How is the book going on??

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