Feb.29.08.
The tiny doll lay limp in her hand, gladly and blissfully unaware that its owner was glaring at it malevolently, like she wished it to burn. The tiny button eyes set close together at the center its overlarge head, seemed to gaze steadily back at her, and if possible, only heightened her blind rage. It was macabre, yet somewhat cute in its disproportionate freakishness. Her fingers curled around the spindly doll tightly and its limbs poked into her skin painfully; as masochistic as it sounded, she enjoyed it.
She picked up the long, thin sewing needle again with her free hand and prodded gently, sorrowfully, at the stringy, rubbery strands of super glue that dangled so uselessly off the doll. Sudden anger engulfed her mind, and she stabbed the doll with the needle, feeling it sink satisfyingly through the wood, which gave some resistance before splintering beneath the sharp point. She felt the point prick her hand, and with a twisted sort of pleasure, she pushed harder and felt it punctured her palm and slowly make its way through before coming to a stop as it hit bone.
She did not gasp; instead, a smile stretched, honey slow, across her face. And it wasn’t like she was pretending to be brave; the pain just really didn’t bother her.
She twiddled her fingers, and watched with a morbid fascination as blood soaked the woven snow-white cloth and splintered wood of the doll’s body, then seep down her wrist; it wasn’t gushing rivers of blood, but it was steady. She ignored it, liking the feel of the warmth, and picked at the coat of glue at the front, feeling resentment taint her strange elation.
‘I want to have a piece of you with me wherever I go.’
Or so they claimed. She had an inkling that her friend hadn’t been incredibly overjoyed when she had happily announced the news of what she did to their matching dolls. After all, there had been a very good reason as to why she had super glued them together, before angrily ripping them apart at her friend’s hesitant request. As she did, the hearts stayed glued together, coated with glue and stuck on the one she now held in her blood soaked hand.
She pulled the needle out and pushed it out of the minuscule wood torso, setting it aside gently on the table before dropping the doll on the floor where it splintered beneath her heel. She rose to leave the room.
____
Miles away, a truck swerved and spun, tires screeching as it tried to brake on the icy roads. The driver closed his eyes and prayed as he clutched the steering wheel in a death-grip, hoping that the gods would help him – if they existed – as he spiraled out of control and barreled into a long line of vehicles. A second later, he hit the first; a black camry. The young woman in the car didn’t even stand a chance; but that was okay, it was quick. No one noticed in the ensuing chaos, but a tiny black doll flew out of the window and landed in the freshly fallen snow, its limbs sticking out at awkward angles. More snowflakes fluttered down and already began to cover the doll where it fell, where it was probably going to stay until spring came around, and even then, there wasn’t much of a chance of finding it – assuming that it would survive the harsh outdoors.
____
She was just about to step down when her black cat barreled beneath her feet, his back claws scrabbling desperately at the hard-wood floor as she lost her footing. Reached out desperately for the railing, she gave a little gasp as her fingers touched it fleetingly – and slipped. Tumbling down a long flight of stairs, she came to a rest at the bottom; just as broken as the small wooden doll she had crushed so mercilessly beneath her heel.
____
Minutes later, police, paramedics, firemen, reporters milled and swarmed around the scene of a twenty nine car pile-up. A new recruit brushed snow out of her eyes and moved closer towards the crumpled remains of the vehicles, shattered, jagged shards of glass crunching beneath her boot. She paused and bent down to investigate the odd object she had stepped on. Something she completely didn’t expect. She gingerly picked up the remains of the small wooden doll. Its head lolled limply from side to side, attached to the neck with nothing but string.
“We just got another call, would you mind –?”
She shook her head and pocketed it quickly before anyone could see. It was against protocol. Especially since twenty-nine cars were involved, it couldn’t have just been the bad weather; bad luck more like. There was a possibility of a crime, and she had just knowingly removed some of the evidence. As she slammed her squad car door shut, she knew she was supposed to feel at least some kind of guilt, but she didn’t. She fumbled in her coat pocket for the keys, and her fingers brushed lightly past the woven fabric. Jamming the key into the ignition and twisting, she almost sighed as the familiar rumble swallowed the sounds of the outside world; she reached for the steering wheel and then noticed the small rubbery strand of what she later identified as glue, clinging to her fingers.
____
She felt the presence of death long before she even spotted the lifeless body, spread-eagled on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. She moved closer and squatted, peering at the peaceful visage. Gently wiping the trickle of blood leaking from the corner of unmoving lips, she stepped past and quietly moved up the stairs; something unknown beckoning her.
She reached the room, her gaze lowered to the floor and she nearly fainted; clutching her chest, she felt the wild and irregular thump of her heart. Breathing in deeply through her nose, she gripped the doorframe, easing herself back into her former composure. She picked it up with one hand, and reached into her pocket with the other.
The lingering strands of glue seemed to reach out to each other, to reconcile, as she brought them closer together. As much as she tried to keep them apart, she couldn’t. They were like magnets.
She stared at them, and their black button eyes stared calmly back.
This was a prompt we did two years ago, in the first year of PWN's existence. I never really finished the story... I added the last line today. 
. This one really gets under the reader's skin a little, making them feel like something similar could happen to them. I was very creeped out for a bit when I read this. 
