Page 3 of Tainted Serenity

Sweat beads on my forehead at the sight, nausea churning in my stomach. For a moment, I swear I see her eyes move, looking around just as frantically as I am. But that cannot be. My breath hitches once my eyes settle on her abdomen. A miniature version of a kitchen knife is plunged into her stomach, the dress covered in a crimson red color. I cannot help the whimper that escapes my throat, feeling my world going under in dread. No one is here, yet I hear branches snap and breaths echo in my ears.

What is even worse about the doll that’s an exact replica of me—a doll that resembles a corpse—is the one positioned beside her. Buried under the nearly frozen ground, a figure emerges, its face the only part visible through the dirt, offering me a glimpse of its identity.

Grey.

The doll’s hair is precisely as I remember Grey’s. Raven-black roots with red strands covering his mesmerizing eyes—only that this doll has his eyes closed.

A branch snaps behind me. My nerves tingle with adrenaline as a primal fear floods my veins, making my heart skip a beat. Darkness descends around me as the eerie chant continues.

And that is when I feel it.

A strange feeling causes the hair to rise on the back of my neck, as if thousands of eyes stare right at me, monitoring every erratic twitch of my body.

With widened eyes, I stare at the imposing tree behind the two dolls replicating Grey and I, and the two words displayed in the trunk.

“Your turn.”

The letters are written in a red, sticky paint that runs down the trunk of the tree, and as the wind grips the bark, a metallic scent follows with it. The moon hangs high in the pitch-black night, the only source of light that allows me to see anything in my surroundings as it casts an eerie glow upon the surrounding earth. A snow-covered landscape full of dread and terrors.

“Lily,” a voice comes from behind me, but I cannot move my head to see who’s behind there. However, I recognize his ear-splitting voice and how it makes me jolt from fear that invades every cell in my body.

The creepy children’s song from the music box overturns to a piano-like melody, filling the air with a melancholy that sets heavily on my heart. The steady pulse of my heart pressing against my ribcage tells me I’m alive, despite the horrible flashbacks from my childhood overwhelming me. Suddenly, it’s not the dirt-filled ground around me anymore; it’s a body full of viscous carvings that lies in front of the doll that looks like me.

“Help me.”

Dad’s voice invades my eardrums at the same time as a scream slips from me in an agonized sound that makes my ears hurt. His lifeless eyes spring open, staring right at me with accusation in his gaze. In my head, he thinks I’m at fault. I do not even notice the tears running down my cheeks until the taste of salt fills my taste buds. My eyes close tightly, refusing to look at his brutal corpse, while my fingers itch to grab ahold of my skin to tear it apart from my heel.

I pry my eyes open, no longer seeing anyone before me. It’s only an empty spot where the ground slopes down before rising, coming to one of the big rock outcroppings where the dolls are.

Then a laugh overtakes the stillness of the air as the wind settles for a minute. Initially low and menacing, the laugh rises to a sinister crescendo punctuated by haughty chuckles and throaty guffaws that sound like they are coming from an old man. I press my back against the tree trunk, trying and failing miserably to make my body as small as possible. A sense of unease permeates the air as the forest floor lies hidden in shrouded darkness.

The eerie feeling becomes tenser as distant footsteps echo through the depths of the forest, a haunting whisper in the air. My spine tingles at the irregular cadence of the sounds, and my heart rate quickens.

After many painfully long seconds, he appears.

Like a monster hiding in the shadows, he emerges under the eerie glow of the moon, dressed in a costume that paints an impression of terror with its rich jewel tones intertwined with bold contrasts, unlike the costumes of his brother.

With his hands behind his back, he looks at me with an icy stare that freezes the blood thrashing in my veins.

“Naya.”

He says it without emotion—not a question nor a statement. Just a simple word with no meaning behind it, yet it causes the hair to rise on my body.

He lurks, concealed by the tree, until he takes one step, then another, before his entire body is visible. With his wrinkled hands full of liver spots, he grabs the doll in front of me, and I swallow what feels like molten lava.

“Isn’t she pretty?” He mumbles out loud, his words draping with wonder. “I got her special made. Such a beautiful little dolly, perfect for my collection.”

He takes a step closer, and my eyes focus on his every move. I do not dare close my eyes in case I miss something. I’m at a disadvantage, chained to a tree while the pain in my stomach freezes me in place, rendering me numb.

His crooked fingers drag over the other rock, reaching for the doll that looks like Grey. Disgust curls my insides.

“This one too. Such a masterpiece, wouldn’t you say? A replica of his current position.”

I force myself not to react when he lifts his gaze and stares right at me, although it still feels as if he can reach into my soul to unveil the paralyzing fear that tears my chest apart at the mere thought of losing Grey, the only person that matters. I don’t want Arthur to notice the way his words affect me by making my heart race faster or how my limbs twitch with adrenaline coursing through me.

I hold myself perfectly still, not allowing him to see through my façade and into the emotions churning inside me. I hide the pain that makes it feel like an iron has burned my organs with all its goriness and brutality. Arthur observes me with that smile that is way too wide, almost as if his lips have been cut open, waiting, listening for a hitch of breath or whimper to leave me. But I hold it all in as I stare him down.

If what he says is true, that means Grey is buried somewhere. My heart sinks to the bottom of the ocean as I force myself to appear unbothered, but on the inside, I’m screaming and tearing apart from his hidden confession. A part of me is slipping away, much like sand through your fingers, and the panic momentarily scatters my thoughts.

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