Chapter 3: Suspect

The next day would bring trouble…

I fell asleep with Chucky in my arms.

Before doing so, I said to him, "Chucky, I love you and everything about you. You make me feel like I can get through anything."

And he turned to me and said, "I love you as well, and I like to be hugged."

Then I replied, "Good… because I love to hug you too."

And I draped my arm around him. I'd gotten pretty used to the other phrases Chucky began saying to me, so it doesn't really shock me anymore. Besides, I could use someone to talk to other than real people. I'm not really good at socializing with real people. That's why I talk to my stuffed animals. Not because I'm crazy, even though I sort of am.

Then, that morning was a Saturday, so no school! I walked upstairs to the living room, Chucky in my arms.

"Mom, I'm awa-" I announced cheerfully, but then I saw something I wish I didn't-police officers.

There were five of them wearing navy blue uniforms, and my mom was on the couch crying with a balled up tissue in her hands. I got up the last two stairs slowly and cautiously.

"Mom? What's wrong? Why are there police officers here?" I asked, a little nervous.

My mom sniffed and made another crying sound from the back of her throat.

"What's wrong?" I asked, taking a few steps forward.

"Miss, Emilee?" the first officer said to me.

I nodded to let him know it was me.

"Are you familiar with this young man?" the second officer asked me, taking out a photo.

I gasped and saw the person in the photo was that same red-head kid who I beat up yesterday. I felt a lump form in my throat.

I gave a hesitant nod and said, "Uh… huh…" in a nervous tone.

"Why?" I asked, gripping Chucky.

"His name was Aaron Fillion," the third officer said, stepping forward.

"What do you mean 'was'?" I asked, stepping away.

"He was found dead earlier this morning," the fourth police officer.

I gasped and stepped back. I started to feel dizzy and wary.

"Yes, in the school, right next to the big, tall table where-people informed us-you sit for lunch every day." he continued to explain, "His eye was gouged out, his throat slit with a knife, and he was disemboweled."

I stepped away and gagged.

"S-so, what? You think I did that?!" I asked, trying not to puke.

"No, we're not pointing fingers!" the 5th police officer said, trying to calm me, "But you were the last person to make contact with him before he disappeared. Then, we found him murdered."

I sighed.

"Well, I'll tell you this right now: I. Didn't. Do. It!" I said sternly.

I mean it, I did not do it.

"Even so, you did beat him that day at school, right?" the first one asked me. I gave a nod.

"Yeah, but he got what he deserved when I did that! Besides, I'm a misandrist, too." I retorted.

"That's still no reason to beat him up," the 3rd officer said back.

"Well, I've told people again and again to not come up to me and say, "My friend has a crush on you…"

So, I spent the rest of the morning complaining, talking, and doing other speech patterns to the police. They claimed me a suspect and said they would be monitoring my every move.

I asked them how they would be doing that, and their response was: "We'll be closer to you than you are with yourself."

But I just shrugged.

When I went back to school on Monday, people would always be staring at me. Although, there were a select few that still kind of hung out with me. I know that sounds wrong like those assholes at CinemaSins would say if this was all a movie. However, I don't necessarily disagree with them. Even my friend Jackie didn't reject me, because she agreed that those assholes called 'boys' need to leave me alone. I've found comfort talking to Chucky as well. Like this one conversation we had:

I was just finished with my math homework, and I told Chucky how much I despised math and homework.

Then he said, "I like to be hugged!"

And I just rolled my eyes.

After putting my homework back in my backpack, I picked up Chucky and walked upstairs with him.

"Do you know my name Chucky?" I asked him after getting up the first flight of stairs.

"Emilee," he replied, laughing.

I halted in my tracks. I held the red-head doll in front of me. I smiled happily knowing my new friend recognized my own name. I hugged him warmly, hearing his heartbeat against my own.

I walked down the hall and stood in front of my mom's bedroom door. She hasn't been talking to me lately. Maybe she really believes that I murdered that boy? I hope not… I looked down at Chucky and ran my hand across his smooth, red hair.

"Maybe it's best we don't let people know how much I know about you, okay?" I said to him.

He turned his head towards me and blinked his blue eyes. That means "yes".

I opened the door and saw my mom sleeping in her bed. She works late and has two kids, plus a bunch of other shit to take care of, so, it's no surprise that she likes sleeping a lot.

'Maybe I shouldn't have come in?' I thought to myself.

I slowly closed the door and walked of with Chucky into the living room.

That night…

I got my P.J.'s on-Mickey Mouse footie pajamas-and set Chucky on my bed next to Octavia. Octavia is my stuffed bear that I got about a year ago from some guy who didn't want her. She's one of my favourite toys to sleep and cuddle with. I decided to let Chucky get to know my other toys, so, I'm sleeping with him and one other plushie of my choice. So far, Octavia is his favourite. I looked at him.

"You know, I heard that you're… anatomically correct…" I say.

"But, I know you won't do that to me…" I add.

Chucky doesn't reply or move at all because his eyes are closed; I laughed.

At the police station…3rd Person POV

A cop held a coffee cup in his left hand. He sipped his black beverage blissfully and leaned back in his swivel chair.

"Barclay," a voice said.

The officer quickly leaned forward in his chair, spilling his coffee slightly.

"Y-Yes, sir?" Barclay-the cop-said, trying to look competent.

Andy Barclay became a police officer two years ago, and has been happy that Chucky's been out of his life for years ever since the last time he had killed off the doll.

"Are you familiar with this doll?" the man asked him, holding up a picture.

Andy gasped upon seeing the person in the picture: Chucky!

"Y-Yes…" he whispered, starting to feel scared.

The man put the photo back in his pocket and sat down in a chair next to Andy.

"Good, because he was last seen with a girl who's a suspect in a young boy's murder."

Andy choked on his own saliva at this information. He'd had bad past experiences with Chucky and didn't want anyone else to, so, he would help get rid of Chucky when he would try and kill people that were innocent.

"Where does this girl live?" Andy inquired, standing up swiftly.

"Emilee is her name, and she lives at *******" the officer explained.

Andy nodded and sprinted over to his bag. He grabbed it.

"Where are you going?" the officer asked him.

"To find Chucky!" was his reply before he dashed out the door.

Meanwhile…My POV

I was trying to sleep, but something in my stomach and heart was telling me that something bad was going to happen. I looked over at Octavia and then at Chucky. Chucky was sleeping and so was Octavia, but I needed someone to talk to. I didn't wanna wake Chucky, so, I chose to talk to Octavia. I slowly and carefully got out of bed, picked up Octavia, and sat on the ground.

"Octavia," I said to her.

I heard her say "yes" back.

"I don't know why, but I have a feeling that something bad is coming…" I said to her.

I then felt a chill go down my back. I felt like someone or something was watching me… I gulped as the hair on the back of my neck prickled and stood on end. My throat was starting to feel dry, hot, and really sticky. I slowly turned my head back and got worried about what I would come face-to-face with… I looked and saw… nothing. Except my bed. I sighed in relief as my sweaty hands started to dry.

I felt something touch my shoulder! I shrieked in fear!

"Hey! Woah, woah, woah! Don't be scared, I won't hurt you!" I heard a voice say as I backed against my bed.

"Who's there?! Who's there?! I have a knife!" I warned, reaching under my bed and pulling out a knife.

I wielded it fearfully, ready to strike whoever it was. I looked left and right again and again, my palms moistening again. I gulped as my hair stood on end. I've been-and still am-scared of the dark. I mean, I've got a floor lamp for a nightlight, but still… I still don't know why horror movies don't scare me, but Creepypasta's on YouTube do, but eh, I digress.

"Emilee…"

I gasped slightly and quietly as I heard someone utter my name in the darkness. I started to lower my knife for no apparent reason at all. Something in my heart was telling me that I shouldn't wield a knife at this somebody who obviously knew my name.

"Who… who are you?" I asked, trying to calm my racing heart.

"It's me, Chucky." the voice replied.

My eyes shrunk and my heart raced faster than a gun could fire on full, automatic. That couldn't have been! Chucky?

"Well, where are you?" I asked.

I saw a silhouette in my dark closet start to move forward. A short silhouette that looked strikingly familiar. As this person came more into the light, he started to look more and more like…

"Chucky?"

Yes, it was him; he was standing there in front of me with a different facial expression unlike the one he had as a default Good Guy face. Though he was slightly smiling, it wasn't the default Good Guy smile that he had had when he first arrived at my house. Chucky… He was, well…

Alive…

Done! Also, don't be confused, he's been talking to me in his childish, Good Guy voice this whole time. So, this is the first time he's using his "Brad Dourif" voice to me. Another thing, I'm not giving out my address, so, don't even ask me!

Shadow: I got chills…

Yeah, I'm not very good at writing suspenseful, horror scenes, so, give me a break. But, if this really did give some of you the chills, then I'm happy to scare you! … Okay, that sounded strange…

R&R!