002: sacrificial lamb

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CHAPTER TWO OF TWENTY

❝ SACRIFICIAL LAMB ❞

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"...I SLICED MY PALM OPEN YESTERDAY, RICKY," (Name) informed, bandaging her palm in the off-white bandages in the small First Aid kit from underneath the sink, replacing yesterday's bandages.

The following morning was a rainy one, bleak as usual. The raindrops pounded against the glass of the windows of the former rectory, hailing against the glass like bullets. (Name) placed the First Aid back underneath the sink, closing the cupboard door.

Eric was sat at the two-seater kitchen table, eyes fixated on the glowing computer screen. His raven-coloured locks were messy and in their usual curly state, whilst a pair of reading glasses were perched on the bridge of his nose, protecting his brown eyes from the harsh glare of the screen.

His eyes had their usual vacant look to them as if he wasn't in the moment. He nodded, and let out an "mhm" in response. Eric's tone of voice was void of emotion and clipped as if he was rationing his words. (Name) sighed, sitting opposite her husband.

"It could've got infected and I could've died," (Name) said.

Eric, or rather 'Ricky' as pet names went, nodded. "That's lovely, (Nickname)," Eric responded. He almost sounded bored. (Name) scoffed.

"So...d'you know what box the garden tools went it?" (Name) asked, "I think it's fantastic weather for gardening, Ricky,".

Eric let out an extended, bored sigh. "No, (Name)," he responded, eyes practically glued to the screen, "You packed the boxes, remember? And another no to the gardening. Rain makes mud, mud makes a mess,".

(Name) scoffed. "One, you weren't bothered to pack anything. Two, you wouldn't even be cleaning the mud," the (hair-coloured) woman clarified, "I can't bloody believe it...you're writing a book about plants and you hate dirt,".

Eric sighed, taking a rare glance up from his computer screen and looking at his wife. "It's not a book about plants. It's a book about alien plants. It's a sci-fi novel for God's sake," Eric corrected.

(Name) dramatically stood up, about to exit the kitchen. "Oh, (Name), some dude left this for you on the front porch," Eric casually mentioned, pushing a large, bean-shaped wad of newspaper with a note taped to the front across the table.

(Name) picked up the newspaper, picking the note off the front. It had (NAME) written on it in somewhat neat handwriting. She opened the note to find a message scrawled on it in black ink. Hey (Name), look what I found in my Grandma's old trunk. Look familiar? -Wybie P.S. the cat wants to see Leela.

(Name) opened the newspaper to reveal the last thing she expected. A doll. That looked just like her. It was creepy how much the doll looked like her. And Wybie had found this in his grandmother's trunk? It couldn't be just a coincidence.

The doll was a miniature doppelganger of (Name), from the strands of (hair colour) yarn to the facial features. The doll was dressed in the same outfit wore the day she moved to the Pink Palace. However, there was one small difference. The doll had black buttons for the eyes.

𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄 ❃ coraline auWhere stories live. Discover now