Can't break free - Part 1 (Patreon)

The rays of moonlight streamed in through the curtains, casting a white hue on the rows of dolls neatly arranged on the ornate wooden shelf. Each doll, with its own distinct personality, sat primly, their glossy eyes reflecting the gray and white hues of nightfall. But for Celine, only one recently obtained doll truly stood out. It had once belonged to her grandmother, a family heirloom passed down from generation to generation, with gray hair said to be woven from her grandmother’s own silky tresses. Today, its blue eyes held an unnerving intensity.

As the college student leaned closer, her heart pounded in her chest. She could swear the doll blinked. But before she could react, a dizziness overwhelmed her. Colors swirled, and the room spun in a whirlwind of shapes and shadows. When the disorientation cleared, she found herself staring, not at the doll, but up at her own self, a terrified expression on her face.

She tried to move, to cry out, but her voice was gone. With a start, she realized her surroundings were not the familiar dimensions of her room but the confined space of the dollhouse. Panic surged through her as she tried to make sense of her predicament. She was inside the doll, her consciousness somehow transferred into the porcelain figure, while her actual body remained in the real world.

From her diminished perspective, Celine watched as her body, possessed by an unknown entity, rose gracefully from the chair. It stretched out its limbs, a smile playing on her lips, one that Celine had never worn. It was a sly, almost triumphant grin, full of mischief and dark intentions. “That took way too long. I’m just glad this body’s prettier than her mother’s.”

Celine tried to scream, to get the attention of her own body, but the only sound that she heard came from her own mind. The controlled body glanced in her direction, and for a brief moment, their eyes locked. “Ah, so you’re still latching on to that doll,” her body’s lips mouthed. “Very interesting. It must be because of your blood. No matter, I’ll just monitor the situation.” In those eyes, Celine didn't recognize herself. It was as if another soul resided in her body, one she didn’t recognize. 

Celine was so confused by all of this. She was trapped, confined within the walls of ceramic skin and glass eyes, unable to do anything but watch. Every now and then, her body would glance over at the doll, chuckling softly to itself, sending chills down the spine of the real Celine. As the hours went by, night fell, and the room grew darker. The only source of light was the soft glow of a streetlamp filtering in through the window. The possessed Celine put herself down on the bed, pulling the blankets over her stolen body, while the real Celine's consciousness remained on the shelf. She felt so helpless and alone.

Celine tried to remember anything, any clue, any hint of why this was happening. She remembered stories her mother used to tell about magic, often whispered in hushed tones. But as a child, Celine dismissed them as mere tales, meant to amuse and intrigue but never to be taken seriously. Yet now, the horrific reality stared back at her. She was trapped inside her grandmother’s doll, and someone, or something, had taken over her body. As the possessed Celine drifted into sleep, the doll containing the true Celine remained wide awake, her mind racing as she tried to piece together her memories, hoping for a way to reclaim her body and her life...