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Nora's footsteps down the hall were heavy, tired; all the energy was gone. Makenzie was probably still lying with her face buried in the sheets of Nora's bed, a large wet stain around her head. Which meant she'd have to do laundry tomorrow. She heaved a sigh of disgust, shaking her head, leaning against one of the walls in the dim hallway.

"Why god?" Her head turned up to the stained ceiling, fists clenching. "What did I do to deserve all this?" A few seconds crawled by, before she let out another disgusted sigh; why did she even bother? It's not like she ever got an answer.

The light to Makenzie's room was still on, the only source of illumination in this part of the house. Nora slowly made her way over, the half closed door opening with a long creek. The discarded pillows, overturned chair, and stomped on drawing all greeted her eyes, but she ignored them; let the lying brat pick them up later.

She got on all fours beside the bed, reaching her hand into the musty dark underneath. All her groping hand felt was dust; where was the damn doll? For a moment she considered crawling underneath further, but the thought of crawling underneath a bed into the dark made her skin crawl. With a groan she got up, joints complaining and knees popping. She turned to leave, then stopped, eyes glued to her daughter's desk.

There was the doll. Why hadn't she seen it before? It sat there, dust smudged on the white plastic, a small trail of red down one of its cheeks, underneath the eye. She stepped towards the doll, then let out a hiss of pain and jumped back. Nora lifted up her foot by the ankle, flicking the small shards of glass underneath the bed; lucky she hadn't been cut. She'd bled enough for one day.

Keeping her eyes on the floor, Nora carefully made her way past the wreckage of her smashed glass, dark red liquid seeping along the dusty cracks in the wood. It'd probably fallen off when she was chasing...she blinked, shaking her head. Probably broke in all the commotion; she'd clean it up later.

Finally making it past all the smashed glass, she took her eyes off the floor, her gaze coming to rest on the doll.

"Why does she talk to you? What's so special about you?"Her hands gripped the table, her breath washing over the doll's face. "I can play hide-and-seek, I can listen when she talks. Hell, I can even talk back! What can you do?" For a moment her hands tensed as she looked at the doll, the black plastic eyes staring back, unblinking. Her hands relaxed their grip and she stood up, chuckling to herself.

Slowly it grew, until she was laughing so hard her sides hurt, causing her to double over. Nora wiped tears from her eyes, straightening up; it was all so...so ridiculous!

"I'm talking to a doll. A goddam toy." She let out a long breath, shaking her head, making her way back over the glass to the light switch. Her gaze drifted back one last time to the dirty, cracked, doll, sitting straight up at the table, returning her stare.

"What're you lookin' at?" Was this what she was reduced to? Talking to inanimate objects because she wasn't good enough for her own daughter? She flicked her fingers down, the lights shutting off, leaving her in complete darkness while the wind howled outside.

"You."

Nora quickly flicked the switch back up, the lights sparking to life in an instant; was that supposed to be an answer? She looked out the windows of her daughters room, the wind shaking the branches and leaves outside. Probably just the wind, her rational mind told her.

Her gaze crawled over the room, and finally landed again on the doll; the eyes always seemed to be looking at her. Or...glaring? Was it glaring at her? Nora was over the glass and at the desk in an instant, looking carefully at the doll. Hadn't it had a smile before?

"Makenzie," She muttered under her breath, snatching the doll up. Her crazy daughter probably drew a new mouth on the doll; maybe she should have her checked out by a doctor. This kind of behavior wasn't normal, especially at her daughter's age. Nora had never even played with dolls as a little girl, and no one she knew had ever played with them for this long.

She had let Makenzie get too attached to the thing; she'd had it practically since she was born, a gift from a distant relative. Great uncle Peter? Sasha? She couldn't remember, exactly. Well no longer; she wasn't putting up with this anymore.

Things are going to change.

"Time for you to go Suzy," Her fingers traced over the sharp edges of the cracked plastic; it was a shame she couldn't see it get crushed by the garbage truck. Maybe, just maybe, even a trash compactor.

That would be nice.

"It's time for Makenzie to talk to real people. Like her own mother." And maybe so I don't start to talk to you as well, she thought, carefully picking her way over the glass and heading downstairs, keeping Makenzie's light on.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

------

So it's calmed down a little bit since the last part. Nora is starting to build up suspicion in her mind, and things seem like they might change around the house. Will Suzy be thrown out? How stable is Nora exactly? How will this change Makenzie? And, perhaps most importantly: was that the wind that spoke to Nora...or Suzy? I'm interested to know what you're thinking, so all feedback and comments are welcome! Check back in on Wednesday, December 21st for Part IV. Hope you enjoyed!

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