Title: The Baby Doll
Summary: They could try again…they could always try again, after he had disposed of the doll.
Pairings: Onesided Belarus/Russia, probable onesided Canada/Belarus
Disclaimer: Hetalia Axis Powers and the short stories of creepypasta dot net are the creations of Hidekaz Himaruya and an unknown author respectively. I am merely a writer taking creative liberties.
In rural southern Illinois a toy company began selling "realistic" baby dolls to expectant mothers. But apparently after the mother had her child the toy baby would start crying. Eventually the "rocking motion" advertised to calm it down wouldn't work, and you couldn't get it to stop without shaking it. Eventually when it started crying the parent would have to beat it, and the beatings and thrashings would have to get harder and harder to get it to be quiet.
The only thing that seemed to shut the baby doll up permanently was to bash its head against the wall to destroy whatever mechanism triggered the crying. On more than one occasion, though, neighbors called the authorities to report child abuse, and when the police arrived they found the bloody remains of infants smeared across the walls and the floor. In most cases the mother couldn't understand why the police were there, she just "got rid of the stupid doll" as she rocked a baby-shaped bundle in her arms.
Natalya's lips were compressed tightly together; she rocked Vanya carefully in the old rocking chair situated in a corner of the nursery.
The infant had beautiful wheat-blond hair and violet eyes just like its father, and a small, fine-featured face she would stroke as often as permitted. She patted Ivan's blanket into a comfortable shape around the contours of its body as she hummed a childhood song, something she would only ever do for her beloved.
She stopped, however, as an irritating, bleating wail reached her ears. Her expression darkened as she rose, gliding in the direction of the crib.
She had liked the doll when Vanya's father gave it to her, with his wheat-blond hair and turquoise eyes, during her pregnancy, but now he cried all the time without stopping unless she was there on an hourly basis. Vanya's father would look at her worriedly when he got home, and reach for the doll without sparing a glance toward their child. Natalya would be irritated, but how could she afford to leave darling Vanya alone for even a moment? It might get upset.
The doll's blood-streaked turquoise eyes stared up at Natalya. She noted under the beginnings of the crystal mist that had begun to clear her vision that it was not Vanya. It was not Vanya.
With a cry of rage, she tossed the doll aside just as it began to mewl. Stupid, sick toy! It had no right to usurp her beloved husband's love. Not content with merely throwing it out of the crib, she snatched it up roughly, her nails digging into the soft, sallow skin, and bashed it against the wall again and again, delighting in the blood and brain matter that spattered her dress. She threw the carcass to the ground and stomped on the tiny ribcage until she heard the bones crack. Sinking to the floor, she licked a droplet of blood off her lip and fell into a deep stupor.
Matthew opened the door and sighed, unaffected by the carnage. They would try again after he had cleaned up this mess…they could always try again, after he had disposed of the doll. He headed for the bleach without hanging up his hat.
Well, better get to work before the neighbors called the authorities. Natalya would need a new set of clothes; she had already worked through her wardrobe and bloodstains were quite hard to get off the delicate white linen she was so fond of wearing.