Screams. Like piercing thunder. They punctured the air, the shrill cry echoing in her ears. Aya sat atop the glass cupboard, desolate. Frozen into place for eternity, she looked at Father and Maria mutilating the body with soulless pitch-black eyes. The body thrashed, blood sprayed, but they gave nary a care. Finally, Father finished the gory job with one clean slot to the throat. The body went limp, disappearing behind Father and Maria. Aya thought back to days before, when Father brought the sickly woman home, after seeing her potential to become beautiful once she was healthy. But Father trapped that beauty, like pinning a butterfly to a piece of cupboard just to admire its wings.
After killing them.
Aya looked at the two newlyweds. Some time before Maria had disappeared out of the room, rushing back with Father, injured severely, in tow. How she did that, Aya will never knoW. Days later, they got married. Maria showed Father Aya, doll-version, wearing a frilly pink dress and a big white bow on her head.
Laughter brought Aya back to the present. She looked on helplessly as Father dropped the parts into the jars, preserving them. Aya shuddered.
Or she would if she could.
She was stuck there in that suffocating position, hands on her lap, dressed in a suffocating dress. And all she could do was sit and watch helplessly as Father made dolls out of his new victims.
Somebody... Please save me...