Charlotte

If I still had skin, I might've been sweating bullets.

No, to be fair, there were times when I could sweat. And cry. I never quite figured out all the intricacies of this curse placed upon me and how my new body worked. I was even able to eat a few bites of food, strangely enough, though I never had to 'get rid' of it the way my old body did.

I was almost sweating for one reason- I didn't know how this new man would react when he found me within this case with a knife in hand.

On the one hand, the sight itself might be unsettling enough that he would leave the house and never return without a second thought. Or, he might start suspecting that I was cursed and dump me outside in the rubbish bin. And if he did that, it would be the end of my story right there and then. The second option was far more likely, and the worst thing was that I could do nothing about it.

It didn't help that due to my anxiety, I was more awake during the daytime than I think I had ever been before. I spent hours in a prison that I could not escape- I could see and feel everything but couldn't move. I had often lamented the nature of my condition, but never before had I felt the pain and uncertainty it caused so intensely.

And so, I waited as the sun continued to taunt me and with every passing minute I was afraid that he would come, throw me out, and I would be left rotting in a rubbish pile somewhere forever.

It would be the end of me.

And yet... it didn't happen. He never came. And as it became late evening, a glimmer of hope began to emerge. Again, as if it were taunting me on purpose, the sun's descent seemed to slow down, and yet, it descended all the same and darkness once again fell over the world.

Now that the sun had bade the sky farewell, I could feel strength come back to my limbs.

That man had never come upstairs to see me after all.

Now, all of my fears felt foolish. My hand still held the hilt of the knife, and my feet carried me downstairs as I immediately set to work to rectify this situation.

I paused after each step downward I took- ever alert for any kind of noise. I heard nothing - perhaps the man had left again for the night? That, or he was sleeping.

I was about to return the knife to where I had found it when an idea struck me - the original reason I had taken the knife in the first place was to scare him, correct? And so I turned around.

A door was there left ajar - could he be in there?

My eyes, though used to the darkness, were still not wholly adept at looking around with no light. From the slight opening in the door I thought I could make out the shadow of a figure lying on the floor.

I crept towards it, wondering what my next move should be.

There was the obvious play - to wake him up and reveal myself holding a knife above his head. That would likely scare him enough to convince him to leave and never come back - but it could also backfire. While I would certainly look intimidating, the fact remained that I was just a doll, and I did not have much strength to me. I was facing someone who far outclassed me when it came to physical ability, so my wits and the element of surprise were the only things that I had to try to outmaneuver him.

In that case, something a bit more subtle might've been more appropriate. I could leave the knife jammed into the floor next to his bed - and when he would wake up the thought would only naturally come to him that the hand that had placed the knife next to his bed without his being aware of it could have just as easily plunged it into his heart. He would have no idea who had done it, which would make the sight all the more maddening to him.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Or he could ignore it entirely and go about his merry little day thinking that he had just misplaced it. Perhaps it was a bit too subtle - maybe I should also leave a note with the knife saying essentially the same thing? It would spell it all out and-

-I nearly jumped out of my own skin when I heard the noise. It was coming from next to the man- a blaring sound that seemed designed to be as annoying, unbearable, and loud as possible. As such I could only assume it was an alarm of some sort.

Not that I bothered to stay there to find out if it was or not- I turned tail and (rather shamefully now that I look back at it) ran all the way back up the stairs and hid in my cage, not daring to move. I no longer had a true heart, but something in my chest was beating so rapidly it felt like it was about to burst.

I sat there now feeling even more nervous than I had during the day until I heard the sound of an automobile outside - it seemed that the man had driven away somewhere.

It still took me an hour to find the courage to go downstairs and check. Yes, his bedroom was empty. I shook my head in disapproval as I saw that he hadn't even bothered to make his bed before leaving.

Finally, I just went back upstairs when I saw that the house was empty and sat down- it was well past daybreak when I realized that in my haste I very stupidly had still not returned the knife to the rightful place it had been kept.

Charlie

My eyes snapped open at the sound of the alarm.

I still felt drowsy and hit the 'snooze' button, telling myself that it would only be another ten minutes - a blatant lie, but one needed for my sanity. I did not feel well-rested at all, and a part of me wanted to simply leave things to inertia and just stay in bed for the rest of the night- though another part of me knew that I had to get up and get to work and I was just delaying the inevitable.

It was always like this at the beginning of night shift. If I could sum it up simply, the issue with night shift was that 'when you're awake, you're only half-awake, and when you're asleep, you're only half-asleep.' The thing is that the odd schedule takes getting used to. You might try to sleep during the day - and I did - but it doesn't feel like ‘restful sleep’ sometimes because of many things - the noises outside, the daylight streaming through the windows, and so on which might cause you to wake up. I think my sleep had been interrupted a couple of times during the day, and whenever I woke up and I saw it was still daylight out, I rolled over and went back to sleep.

But the interruptions add up and it doesn't feel like you've gotten a truly fitful sleep. Then, once it's time for work, since you're not well rested, and since night shift isn't that busy, it's easy to fall into a stupor where you're only kind of awake, but still can't fully fall asleep because an emergency can occur at any time.

As such, what ends up happening is that you just feel dead tired all the time. It was always this way for me when my shifts started, but at the same time I knew that my body would adapt with time.

I dragged myself out of my slumber when my alarm rang again, and got ready quickly and set off for work, knowing that I would be late if I didn't get a move on. And it was only my second day - and while the others did skirt around the rules a bit, the one rule they abided by without exception seemed to be showing up on time. Work that night was unremarkable - partly because I was no longer as much a novelty as I had been before, and also because it was busier given the upcoming weekend. Also, at this point, we were reaching the end of the week with night shifts, many of my coworkers chose to take a nap rather than chitchat as the fatigue of the shifts must have been building up - I was too wound up to sleep a wink, though I knew I would probably regret that in the morning. As I was clocking out and heading out towards my car, Stuart walked up to me.

"Hey - just wanted to let you know you've been doing a great job up till now," he said.

"Ah, thanks," I said, appreciating the positive feedback somewhat but ultimately just wanting to clock out and go home.

"Um, also, George is holding a cookout at his house Sunday," he said. "I mean, some of us are going to be there, and it's uh, kind of just something he does so if you have the time you could join us."

"Would that be okay? I mean, he didn't invite me," I said, looking for a way to wiggle out of it.

"Ah, it's open to pretty much anyone - trust me, he won't mind if you showed up," Stuart said.

I honestly had very little desire to socialize with my coworkers during work hours let alone outside of them, and I was thinking of a suitable excuse. "That's great but I have a lot of unpacking to do, maybe some other week y'know..."

"Got it man," Stuart said and walked away.