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There was a girl, a girl named Mary.

She loved dolls so much that when she was at the age of four, she watched her mother weave dolls by using only cotton and yarn.  Mary's favorite part was that her mother saw how she loved the puppets, and would give her them.

No matter how gory and scary they seem, she loves them still.

But there was something wrong about her life: No matter what, she always felt wrong, and sometimes she doesn't remember whatever she was doing right or wrong, life was really hard on her.  She even gotten yelled at by her father on the age of seven for doing and saying so:

"Father, what did I do wrong?" Mary asked her father curiously and innocently.

Mary's father turned to her and glared.  "You've done everything wrong, you little whore!  Now, go to your room and never come out until tomorrow!"

"But what about-"

"Go!  Now!"

She hung her head and went to her room.  She sat down on her bed.

What did I do wrong? Mary thought.  What did I do?

Her brilliant, fast mind went to work.  She began plotting revenge.

The next morning, Mary got cotton and yarn.  Piece by piece, she began to make the creepiest doll on planet Earth.

It was a little sackdoll.  It had button eyes, and if you look closely, its mouth is open and like if it were talking, exactly making it look like that if it did so by itself.  The eyes were black buttons, and it looked like there was blood coming from it.  The truth is, the blood was actually Mary's because Mary's fingers kept getting pricked by the needle.

When she was done, she went over to her father and showed him the doll:

"Look, father," Mary said in her cute and innocent voice.  "I made a doll."

She held up the doll, and the only thing her father did was swat it out of her hands.

"You inappropriate brat!  Go back to your room!"  He yelled.

"B-but I'm hungry!" Mary yelled back.

"Hey!  It's rude to talk back to adults!" Her father yelled.

Mary's mother came in.

"David, husband.  She hasn't eaten breakfast today, and yesterday she didn't eat lunch or dinner because of you.  Now," her mother said, "I will give her something to eat.  You, David"–she began to walk slowly into the kitchen–"leave her alone.  And if I hear any yells, you are dead.  D-E-A-D, dead."

Mary's mother went to get Mary some breakfast.

"You win, you little twerp," David said, keeping his voice low.  "I'll get you back for sure."

After eating, Mary picked up the sackdoll and showed it to her mother.  "Mommy, does this doll look cute?" she asked, holding up the doll.

Her mother smiled.  "Yes, it looks perfectly fine." her mother said in a calm tone.

What freaked Mary out was that her mother–her mother's name is Clara, for your information–had an eerie touch to her voice, almost making a chill go down Mary's spine.  She shrugged it off and went to her room, still carrying the little sackdoll in her hands.

When Mary was eighteen, her father and mother got divorced, but the bad thing was she ended up with her father.  On one day and in the middle of the night, she thought that she heard her door open by a creak.  She got up, and went out of her bedroom and into the hall to notice something small going into her father's room.

"It was the shape and body size of the little sackdoll I made when I was seven," she whispered to herself.  "What's it doing, moving like it has a body?"

Mary curiously peeked into her father's room to see the little sackdoll holding up a tiny knife, stabbing her father.  It sounded like it was laughing.

Mary closed the door, slamming it shut, and ran to her room.  Out of nowhere, she got a needle and black thread, and FLAM!  She sewn her mouth shut.  

SLAM!

The sackdoll entered the room, still wielding the knife.  It went toward Mary and hugged her ankle.  Surprised by this, she picked it up, and tried to talk.  But before she even said a single word, she remembered that she cannot talk.

"Hi." the little sackdoll said.

Mary stared at the little sackdoll, surprisingly.

The sackdoll speaks up again.  "My name is Doll.  You might be wondering why I can talk."

Mary nodded.  

"You created me.  I was lonely and you were lonely.  So let me deal with that.  I will talk for you, and to let your insanity out, let's kill." the sackdoll smiled and gave Mary a knife.

Mary shook her head.  

"Can't kill?  I'll do it for you." the sackdoll said.

They killed, and killed.  And killed.

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