To answer your questions:
^_^ Nope. Epilogue.
11/1/12
…
"Ya think this is legit?" Detective Raul took a sip of his coffee.
"As far as I know, dolls don't just come to life and murder other dolls." Mick sighed and shut the laptop.
"Then how the hell did these people die?"
"I dunno. Gimme her diary, maybe that has a clue?"
"Been through it. She suffered from some sort of trauma, you can tell by just reading it. It comes slowly, but she seems to be afraid of these dolls from early on."
Raul handed the book to him and picked up the doll on the table. It was the one the video showed to be Jackie. He frowned. "Why would anyone make a doll crying like this? I get the stinkin' Baby Alive crap, but you'd expect something happy from an original doll."
"The lock's broken." Mick flipped it to the last entry.
"It was cheap, anyone could've done it."
"Here, look at this. "I want my nightmare to go away." It was attacking her unconsciously. What do you think?"
"How the hell should I know? You're the hired shrink."
"I mean, what have the police gotten off of the evidence?"
"Well, Alice was slowly going crazy, for a start. Her parents worked all the time, never really there. Father wouldn't get in front of a camera, apparently. Mother knew what was going on too late. Parents found dead in front lawn, bout' nine hours after their death by a jogger outside. Poor bastard's traumatized for life. Alice never found."
"Go back to Alice. How would you describe her . . ."
"Insanity? I'm fairly certain she murdered her cat, blamed it on the dolls. Believed all off this nonsense about them coming to life, blamed them," He started laughing. "My favorite part was the clown guy, Martin. You read that yet?"
He looked up. "Yeah. Bob and Nakita killed him, did they?" He held up the clown doll, who was grinning. They both laughed. "But it seriously is creepy. The thing's holding a miniature knife."
"I can see why she would believe that's alive, ye—god, look at this!" Mick held up Jackie. She was crying, as in actual tears were dripping out of her eyes.
Raul shrugged. "Maybe it's made that way?"
"Porcelain dolls don't have tear holes, genius. They're made to put on a shelf and look at."
"Maybe something's—OW!" Mick put his finger to his mouth, setting down Martin.
"What?"
"Ah god, I think I moved him the wrong way or something, the knife must have poked me."
Raul set down Jackie. "Let's check out her room, maybe something is in there that the police didn't find."
"Maybe," He agreed, following the detective upstairs. They went into Alice's room.
She was on the bed. Alice grinned, held up her tiny porcelain fist, and said rather calmly, "Dinner, my dearies."
"Holy crap!"
"Wha—oh my-!"
…
Jackie sat up. She wiped the tears from her eyes, scowling. The diary basically sat right in front of her, as did a pen. She flipped to the last page and wrote,
To the detectives, or whoever fills in their place,
Whether you believe it or not, even the strongest soul can break—with love. Alice fell in love with the power she was given. Or, the power she stole. From our old leader, Betsy.
I miss Betsy.
Alice is even meaner to us. She brought the clown back. I hate her, and if I could, I'd run away. Maybe I can through the police, as some sort of evidence. Martin and I, I mean. Please.
Take us.
Even if we are bagged for eternity in a box, I will do anything to make this pain inside me stop, this longing for something I haven't had nor wanted in a long, long time:
Peace.
For once, I want peace. Quit the servant-for-life business, take to the road.
However, there must be a leader. A leader must have followers. A leader must have a trustful servant until death do them part, which it was supposed to after last night.
I was supposed to be free. As soon as Betsy died, I was supposed to finally move on. But Alice in Wonderland just HAD to fall in love with her new power, didn't she? Choose me as her servant. And now, according to the screams from upstairs, I'll have to wait a while longer for freedom.
Hide this until the police show. They will. Pretty soon, possibly today. Goody.
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*END*