"Hey, kids! We're here!" Mom's voice cut through the silence as I pulled off my AirPods, blinking sleep from my eyes.

I stepped out of the van and surveyed our new home. The sun was a relentless glare in the sky, and the wind tossed my hair about. I swiftly gathered it into a bun, inhaling the crisp, almost eerie freshness of the morning.

The house loomed before us, a grand yet dilapidated structure that seemed straight out of a gothic tale. Its towering presence felt both imposing and inviting, an old mansion with an aura of forgotten secrets.

There were no neighbors in sight. The stillness was unsettling. I turned to Dad. "It's so…" I trailed off, barely above a whisper. "Quiet," I added, my voice barely carrying.

Dad chuckled, draping an arm over my shoulders. "I inherited this place from your grandmother. The village isn’t too far." He placed a hand on his hip, a hint of pride in his tone.

I pursed my lips, disappointed. The city was all I'd known, with its vibrant lights and lively streets. Now, we were to live in this isolated relic.

Mom's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Red, help me with the boxes. Ericka, look after your sister."

I took Gemma's hand as she blinked sleepily. With Mom busy, we ventured inside. "Ericka, this house is amazing!" Gemma's eyes sparkled with excitement.

The interior was both captivating and unsettling—elegant yet shrouded in dust. Five doors lined the corridor. We tried the first one, but it was locked.

Mom appeared, carrying boxes. "Don’t touch anything yet, okay?" she instructed. We nodded and continued exploring Gemma's potential room, which was surprisingly charming despite its dusty state.

"It’s lovely, Gemma!" I said, though I scowled when she tried to open the cabinets. "We can't touch anything yet," I reminded her, my tone firm.

Gemma’s face fell as she let go of my hand and began to look around.

I noticed a scratch on a side table, carved crudely as if by an impatient hand: 'DO'.

Before I could ponder further, Gemma squealed in delight. I turned to see her opening a closet and pulling out a dusty, antique doll. My heart skipped a beat as she held it up with glee.

"Gemma, don’t touch that!" I shouted, grabbing the doll and tossing it aside.

Gemma looked hurt but picked up the doll and ran to find Mom. "Mom! Ericka won’t let me keep the doll! Look, it’s so pretty!"

I sighed in frustration, muttering under my breath. "What a spoiled little brat," I thought, trying to remain patient.

Mom arrived, looking disapproving. "Ericka, she's just excited. You need to understand her."

I rolled my eyes. The eldest always had to be the mature one, even when the younger ones were being intolerable.

Dad entered, attempting to lighten the mood. "Isn't this house wonderful?" he asked, setting down the boxes with a hopeful smile.

Mom agreed, "It’s quite spacious for us."

Gemma showed Dad the doll, "Look, Dad! It’s beautiful, isn’t it?"

Dad smiled, ruffling Gemma’s hair. I noted his smile was a thin veneer over a deeper sadness. "Where’s Grandma, Dad? We haven’t seen her in a while," Gemma asked innocently.

Dad’s face grew somber. "She passed away last week, sweetheart," he said, sadness heavy in his voice.

We all nodded in quiet understanding. Grandma had been one of the sweetest people I’d known, though we hadn’t spent much time together.

"What happened?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me. My parents exchanged a look, as if I had crossed an unspoken line.

"It was… gruesome," Mom said, her voice trembling. Her eyes bore a haunted look, as if she were holding back tears.

Dad added, his tone cold and resolute, "We’ll get justice for her."

The conversation left a pall over the room. I felt a pang of sadness for Grandma, who had been taken from us too soon.

As we continued to unpack, I went to my room. It was dusty but manageable. I emerged later to find Gemma sitting on the couch, engrossed in her doll.

"Your name is DooLai? It’s as pretty as you are!" she chattered to the doll.

I glanced over, a shiver running down my spine. "What are you doing?" I asked sarcastically.

Gemma beamed at me. "My new doll’s name is DooLai! She told me her name."

My heart raced. "Your doll talks?" I asked, the words barely escaping my lips.

Gemma nodded vigorously, holding the doll up for me to see. I took a closer look at the doll’s face, a cracked porcelain mask with hollow, unsettling eyes. An uneasy chill crept over me.

There was something disturbingly off about DooLai, a presence that seemed to stir beyond the boundaries of the toy itself. And as I watched Gemma interact with the doll, I couldn't shake the feeling that the house, with all its secrets, was holding its breath, waiting for something dark to unfold.

It was a simple doll, but it looked so much like a real little girl.

“Listen, it can talk,” my sister whispered excitedly.

I stared at the doll in surprise as it smiled faintly.

“Hi, my name is DooLai! Nice to meet you,” the doll said, sending chills down my spine. My heart raced in fear.

Suddenly, I heard a noise behind me and screamed as I turned around. Dad was laughing, clearly amused.

“Dad! You scared me half to death!” I yelled, glaring at him.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. You were so focused on the doll,” Dad said, trying to stifle his laughter.

“The doll talked! Of course, I was serious! It even smiled at me!” I shouted, pointing at the doll.

“Alright, enough of that. Stop scaring your sister,” Mom scolded Dad.

“Sorry, hon,” Dad said, giving Mom a sheepish smile. He looked at me and sighed. “Sweetie, the doll is a talking doll. It probably still has batteries. Your Grandma made those dolls when I was your age.”

I nodded, still shaken by the encounter.

“Let’s all take a break now. I’ll make dinner,” Mom said, and we all agreed.

I checked my phone, relieved to see there was signal in the house. I quickly texted my boyfriend, Julius.

I smiled as he replied almost immediately. “Hey, love. How’s it going?” he wrote.

I told him we had arrived at my dad’s old house and asked how he was doing.

“It’s hard to believe you’re so far away now, but I understand Uncle Red’s reasons,” he replied.

Just then, I heard my sister shout, “Dad, Ericka’s smiling! She’s texting Jullian!”

I frowned, annoyed. “Stop spreading rumors, Gem! Dad, it’s not true!” I protested.

I glared at Gem, who just stuck out her tongue and lay back on the couch.

“I told you, Jade. No boyfriends until you finish college,” Dad said sternly.

I rolled my eyes and went to my room.

I locked the door and lay on my bed, scrolling through social media for distracting news. Then I heard a faint knocking at my door.

“Go away, Gem!” I shouted irritably.

The knocking stopped, but then I heard a loud, rapid thumping.

My anxiety grew, and I reluctantly got up to open the door, only to find no one there.

Confused, I went back to the living room. Gem was on the couch, Dad was setting the table, and Mom was cooking.

“Who was knocking on my door?” I asked them.

They all shrugged.

“We’re all busy here, darling,” Mom said dismissively.

“I heard someone knocking on my door,” I repeated, frightened.

“You must be imagining things. Your anxiety is making you scared. Come on, dinner’s ready,” Mom said, gently urging me to join them.

I sat down at the table, where Mom had prepared steak and Seitan Portobello Stew.

“Gem, you need to eat your vegetables,” Mom said firmly.

Gem pouted and shook her head.

“No! I only want steak,” she argued. I sighed in frustration at her behavior.

“You know you can’t eat meat. You have Trichinosis and E. Coli,” Mom reminded her.

“Sweetie, we can’t buy chicken. You need to eat your veggies,” Mom said, trying to stay calm.

Gem still refused.

“When you eat your veggies, I’ll get you more dolls,” Dad promised. Gem happily agreed and started eating her vegetables.

I noticed Dad watching me closely, as if to say I should understand Gem’s behavior because of her illness.

After dinner, I was left to wash the dishes. It was nearly midnight, and the house was eerily quiet, with only the wind making any noise.

“Goodnight, Mom and Dad,” I said, kissing them goodnight.

“Sleep well, darling. Don’t lock your door,” Mom reminded me. I nodded.

I lay down in bed, trying to sleep. It was difficult, maybe because I was homesick. Suddenly, I heard a girl crying outside. I got out of bed and stumbled in the dark, trying to find the source of the noise. I heard noises coming from Gem’s room. Was she having a nightmare? I hesitated but then decided to check on her. I opened her door and saw her sitting beside her bed, talking to the doll on her side table. She was crying and mumbling incomprehensible words.

“Gem, what are you doing?” I asked gently, but she didn’t respond.

Instead, she continued to mumble. As I approached her, she suddenly giggled and turned to face me.

“Let’s play, Ericka,” her voice sounded strange.

I screamed when I saw her face. Her eyes were bleeding, and her wrists were cut. She grinned widely and grabbed my neck.

“Don’t lie!” she whispered, and then let out a blood-curdling scream. Her blood-soaked eyes were locked onto mine, and I couldn’t breathe.

***

I woke up to my mother’s voice. I was panting, clutching her arms, crying. “Mom! Where’s Gem? She was talking to the doll!” I blurted out, terrified.

“Darling, it was just a nightmare. Calm down, Ericka. It’s not real,” Mom said soothingly, stroking my hair.

I cried harder, hugging her tightly. I saw Gem standing by the door, clutching her new doll.

“DooLai didn’t do anything, Ericka,” Gem said softly, hugging the doll, before running out of the room.