I knew she would have to disagree with me, so I made her with different morals then me. I made her hate the shampoo I had used since high school, just in case. I made her have the obvious skills a doctor would need and threw some computer skills in there for some fun. I put in whatever memories from that we could salvage and put in some twisted childhood memories as well. After all nobody came to the doll house without a horrible past. I made her critical and shy. Precise and straight to the point. I gave her not only a personality, but a life. She would believe everything I put in her head. But I didn t want her to ever suspect that she was a doll. My fingers clicked against the keyboard. She would have to be perfect. In every flaw and quirk there could be no mistake.
I made her afraid of people, so she would stay here. I was a painter and she would be my Mona Lisa. My masterpiece that no one could acknowledge, lest they risk exposing her. If they did that everything would be over. She would run. I had no doubt that she wouldn t rat us out, but Dewitt would send teams after her. Or just send her to the attic, seeing as she would then be a broken doll. And broken dolls had no use here. Well unless they had to be made into a doctor that was just slaughtered by another doll.
I had shivered against the chills that ran up my spine. The dollhouse was kept at a perfect 74 degrees farenhieght. And for someone from about as low as you can go in the United States, that was painfully cold. But it was the mere thought of alpha that chilled my blood and had caused me to look over my shoulder. Some people can t remember anything when they come out of a traumatic experience, I guess I was one of the few that remembered every detail, crisp and clean as if I was watching a movie. I was going over serria s health with when I heard the screaming. So we ran towards the noise, only for me to be stopped by Dewitt telling me to go prep the chair and her giving instructions to the old doctor to take care of whiskey. I remember wondering what had happened to whiskey, and flying up the stairs. Being yelled at to do something. I remember looking over his personalities for any flaws, and glancing down at the common room to see the doctor wheeling whiskey into the office.
The screams of echo s old handler attacked my ears as I saw, again, and again, alpha squeezing his eyes into their sockets. There was so much blood. After the attack on the handlers he ran off towards the other dolls. I puked. A lot. I vaguely remember stumbling down the stairs and asking for a gun from Dominic as I explained what had happened.
I didn t realize at the time I had stopped typing and was now staring at the pictures of whiskey after the attack. They never found him. They didn t find alpha. Everyone looked at me, and I could tell that they blamed me for the attack. It was my job to make sure the dolls were wiped clean after every single engagement. It was my fault he had 48 personalities shoved into his head at once. It was my fault that ten people were dead, five handlers, four dolls, one doctor, and whiskey wounded almost beyond repair. We could heal her scars with surgery, but that would risk alpha coming back for her.
Dewitt told me again to prep the chair to put whiskey into the attic. It was then that I had my brilliant idea; whiskey was a broken doll, and we needed a doctor. So why didn t I just imprint whiskey with the personality and skills we needed? Thankfully she agreed. It took god seven days to create the world and then he rested for one day. It took me four days to create a person, and then I slept for two. I hadn t been just, making a doll. I was making our new doctor. I was making Claire Saunders.
I made her afraid of people, so she would stay here. I was a painter and she would be my Mona Lisa. My masterpiece that no one could acknowledge, lest they risk exposing her. If they did that everything would be over. She would run. I had no doubt that she wouldn t rat us out, but Dewitt would send teams after her. Or just send her to the attic, seeing as she would then be a broken doll. And broken dolls had no use here. Well unless they had to be made into a doctor that was just slaughtered by another doll.
I had shivered against the chills that ran up my spine. The dollhouse was kept at a perfect 74 degrees farenhieght. And for someone from about as low as you can go in the United States, that was painfully cold. But it was the mere thought of alpha that chilled my blood and had caused me to look over my shoulder. Some people can t remember anything when they come out of a traumatic experience, I guess I was one of the few that remembered every detail, crisp and clean as if I was watching a movie. I was going over serria s health with when I heard the screaming. So we ran towards the noise, only for me to be stopped by Dewitt telling me to go prep the chair and her giving instructions to the old doctor to take care of whiskey. I remember wondering what had happened to whiskey, and flying up the stairs. Being yelled at to do something. I remember looking over his personalities for any flaws, and glancing down at the common room to see the doctor wheeling whiskey into the office.
The screams of echo s old handler attacked my ears as I saw, again, and again, alpha squeezing his eyes into their sockets. There was so much blood. After the attack on the handlers he ran off towards the other dolls. I puked. A lot. I vaguely remember stumbling down the stairs and asking for a gun from Dominic as I explained what had happened.
I didn t realize at the time I had stopped typing and was now staring at the pictures of whiskey after the attack. They never found him. They didn t find alpha. Everyone looked at me, and I could tell that they blamed me for the attack. It was my job to make sure the dolls were wiped clean after every single engagement. It was my fault he had 48 personalities shoved into his head at once. It was my fault that ten people were dead, five handlers, four dolls, one doctor, and whiskey wounded almost beyond repair. We could heal her scars with surgery, but that would risk alpha coming back for her.
Dewitt told me again to prep the chair to put whiskey into the attic. It was then that I had my brilliant idea; whiskey was a broken doll, and we needed a doctor. So why didn t I just imprint whiskey with the personality and skills we needed? Thankfully she agreed. It took god seven days to create the world and then he rested for one day. It took me four days to create a person, and then I slept for two. I hadn t been just, making a doll. I was making our new doctor. I was making Claire Saunders.