Chapter Text
Piper sat cross-legged on the floor of her apartment’s living room, an unopened parcel resting in her lap. Her fingers worked at the tape, excitement mingling with curiosity. The brown wrapping fell away to reveal a simple white box. A card was taped to the top, her mother’s handwriting looping across the envelope.
“Proud of you, sweetheart. Congratulations on nursing school. I found something special to mark the occasion. Love, Mom.”
Piper smiled, her heart warm. She set the card aside and lifted the lid of the box. Beneath a layer of tissue paper lay a porcelain doll. Its vintage charm was undeniable—dressed in a pristine white dress adorned with a scarlet ribbon, with a head of vibrant red hair styled in two neat pigtails.
“What’s that?” Shel’s voice startled Piper. She turned to see her girlfriend leaning against the doorway, a curious smile playing on her lips.
“It’s from my mom,” Piper said, holding up the doll carefully. “She sent it as a congratulations gift. Her name's Annabelle. Isn’t it sweet?”
Shel stepped closer, tilting her head to examine the doll. “It’s... cute,” she said hesitantly, her smile faltering just slightly. “Kind of old-fashioned, though. But I like it. Your mom always has a way of surprising you.”
Piper grinned. “Yeah, she does. She knows I’ve always had a soft spot for little treasures like this.”
Shel nodded thoughtfully. “We should find a place for it. Maybe one of the shelves in the spare room?”
Piper beamed, delighted by the suggestion. “That’s perfect!” she said. Rising to her feet, she leaned in to kiss Shel, a quick but heartfelt gesture.
Shel returned the kiss with a smile, watching as Piper moved toward the spare room, cradling the doll like it was precious.
In the spare room, Piper carefully placed the doll on an empty shelf, stepping back to admire it. “It looks great there,” she called out to Shel, who had followed her to the doorway.
“It does,” Shel agreed, though her voice was quieter now, her eyes lingering on the doll for a moment longer than necessary.
Piper turned to her with a bright smile. “It’s like it was meant to be here.”
Shel nodded, but her gaze flicked back to the doll. In the dim light of the room, the porcelain face seemed almost lifelike. The wide glass eyes caught the light in an unnatural way, and the painted smile looked just a little... off.
Shel blinked, brushing the unease away. “Yeah, perfect fit,” she murmured, stepping back.
Piper took her hand, and together they left the room, switching off the light.
As the door closed, the room fell silent. The doll sat still on the shelf, its blank eyes reflecting the faint glow from a streetlamp outside. Slowly, the red ribbon on its dress shifted, as though stirred by a breeze that wasn’t there.
Somewhere deep in the house, a faint creak echoed, followed by the soft sound of something tapping against wood.