Baby Doll

“Tell me what happened,” urged Bryce Talbot. At first I didn’t know what to say. I couldn't even look him in the eyes. All I could do was stare at the steaming mug of tea warming my hands as I sat across his kitchen table.

“It’s a weird story,” I finally murmured.

“Try me,” he insisted. “We’ve got all the time in the world.” 

I knew he wasn’t wrong: the police would probably be around for hours. I glanced through the arch and into his and Cassie’s living room. Police lights flashed in the front-facing window, lighting up the night. It was then I realized there was no point in keeping this secret.

Not when I was sure there was no one else in the world who would believe me…

“You know how my dad just passed away, right?” I asked. Bryce nodded grimly.

“Well,” I added wearily. “I think that’s technically when it all started: around the time Dad died…”

He and I haven’t been close - not since I was a little girl. But losing him like this - so suddenly and so far away - it’s been devastating. There have been times where… I don’t know, I feel like I’ve been losing my mind. Just because we didn’t see eye to eye, doesn’t mean I didn’t love him. Not even the funeral seemed to help, though I think Carla and Abby found some solace out of it. But then, that doesn’t surprise me… they got to be with him at the very end. 

Dad had slipped away just before I made it to the hospital.

That’s what’s been bothering me the most: I never got to say ‘sorry.’ And that’s what I've wanted so badly - just to talk to him, and say I’m sorry for everything… even if he’s still mad at me.

I left for home right after the funeral. I couldn’t take Mom staring at me that way anymore. Like it was all my fault - like this latest row with him is what caused the stroke. Carla, God love her, tried to mitigate as best as she could, but Abby wasn’t helping. She agrees with Mom. I haven’t really talked to her or Mom since I left… I’m not even sure if I should call them now. I don’t want it to upset them.

The first night home was pretty normal- or at least as “normal” as it could be right now. I pretty much spent the night draining an entire bottle of Cabernet.  But then, the next night, I got this really weird phone call. 

It was from an unknown number, so I didn’t even bother to answer it. All these telemarketers and scammers these days, I just don’t answer unless it’s someone I know. But then I got this really weird voicemail. I don’t even know how to describe it: it sounded like a busted answering machine being played in reverse. Grainy, static-y noise just played on my speaker for about 30 seconds. At first I thought it was a fax-machine that had the wrong number - don't give me that look, you know what I mean. Some people actually still use those things, God knows why! - 

Anyway, I deleted the voicemail and didn’t give it another thought.

That is until I got another unknown call, with the exact same message, the very next night at the exact same time: 2:17 am.

This one lasted a little over a minute, and it was just as weird as the first. It made the exact same garbled, mechanical noises as before, only this time it sounded like a few syllables had been randomly strung together: ‘A-B-Ee… R-AH-L… A-B-Ee… R-AH-L…’

I deleted that thing as fast as I could, and immediately blocked the number, but even with all that, I still felt a little rattled. There was something uneasy about that message and its ghostly voice. But also, something strangely familiar in it, as crazy as that may sound. I couldn’t put my finger on it to save my life, but I couldn’t just forget about it either. I pretty much lay awake the rest of that night. 

To make things worse, even more stranger things began to happen after that second call…

When I came home from work the next evening, I was pretty sure I found smudged footprints lumbering around the kitchen. The first thing I did was go around the house, phone in hand, and check all the doors and windows, thinking maybe someone had broken in… but everything was completely undisturbed, exactly as I had left it hours earlier. I tried to convince myself that I was just being paranoid - that all the drinking was starting to get to me. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched almost all the time. And in my own home. It took another bottle of cab to knock me out that night.

Over the next few days I kept finding things out of place: a chair ajar. Picture frames out of place, like someone had been looking at them. When I went to make myself dinner that Saturday night I could’ve sworn I was short a few forks and spoons in the drawers. My favorite mixing bowl had gone missing along with a knife from the dishwasher. There were times when the house would suddenly groan like someone was walking around. I nearly drove myself crazy the rest of the weekend searching every nook and cranny but in the end I couldn’t find anything to explain it all away. And then Sunday night came, and I waited for the phone to ring again…

Only, it never did.

Nothing strange happened all Monday morning. And when I rediscovered some of my misplaced kitchen-ware later that night, I finally realized that I was letting my imagination get the better of me. All the stress and grief from the past few weeks starting to sink in - and playing tricks with my mind as an extra bonus! I tried to call Mom about it, to let her know what was going on… but that conversation lasted exactly 2 minutes, and didn’t go at all like I had hoped.

She won’t say it, but I think she still blames me for what happened to Dad. I don’t even remember now what I was so angry about - that’s how ridiculous our argument was. If we hadn’t had that stupid fight - if I hadn’t told him I didn’t need him..

I jumped when my phone vibrated in my pocket. 

UNKNOWN.

 That’s what my screen read. I stared at it for a few seconds, completely petrified, because somehow I knew it was the same caller who’d been leaving me those freaky messages. Somehow I knew they were behind what was going on. This time, though, curiosity got the better of me. I answered it.

‘Hello?’ I asked. 

Silence. 

‘Hello?’ I repeated. ‘Who’s there?’

‘...A-B-Ee…’ replied the mechanical voice.

‘Hello?’

‘A-B-ie… Ah-LL… bA-BIe - dAH-LL…’ I hung up immediately and dropped the phone on the couch. I felt the blood drain from my face, when the garbled words suddenly made sense:

“Baby Doll.”

It freaked me out because no one’s called me that since I was 13. No one but Dad.

I waited by the phone for the rest of the night. I waited to see if the machine - the voice - would call again. I tried waiting up for 2:17 am, specifically. By then I was positive that if that voice was going to call me back, then that’s when it would happen.

I must’ve fallen asleep at some point because I remember coming-to when I heard my phone ringing. UNKNOWN lit up the screen. This time when I answered it, I waited to see if the voice would speak first. Silence.

‘Hello?' I said, trying to sound brave. 'Who is this calling?’ A pause on the other end.

‘BAby… DAhl…’ said the voice. I gripped the phone so tightly my knuckles cracked. It was distant and garbled, but I recognized the voice.

‘D-dad,’ I whimpered. Another pause.

‘Oo-ew… faT… Too… Unn… BAby…’ tears burned my eyes as I clamped a hand over my mouth.

‘Dad!?’ I repeated through my fingers. ‘Dad? Is it you?’ Breaks of static punctuated his words. His voice grew more frantic.

‘Ew… have (static) to… urn… (static) ‘round… Unn,’

‘Dad, I - I don’t understand…”

‘rUNN…Aby…’ the voice trailed off and for a split second I thought the call dropped. Until his voice exploded in my ear:

“RUN BABY! RUN!!!”

A heavy mass hit me from behind and pushed me down to my bed. Large powerful hands gripped me by the wrists and pinned me down as I screamed into the mattress. Someone twisted me around with a single, swift motion, and suddenly I was staring into the eyes of a man wearing a black ski-cap. He sneered down at me, and held up the missing kitchen knife.

“Don’t worry girly,” he snarled. “It’ll all be over soon.”

Then he pulled the sheets over my head and began pushing me further into the bed. I punched and kicked and shrieked, vaguely aware of every strike he made to the mattress. Small rips echoed in my ear as fabric tore away from the blade. But my strength started to fade as more and more panic gripped my mind. The sheets fell away from my face for a split second and I shrieked: 

‘DADDY!!’

BANG!

The bedroom door burst open and I felt the man turn around.

‘Hey, who are…!’ 

His weight left me completely, and grunting filled the room. Glass exploded as the lamp on the night stand was destroyed, and darkness immediately followed. The man let out a bloodcurdling scream and thundered down the stairs, crashing on the first floor.

After that, everything went quiet.

I remember just laying there, shaking under a tangle of blankets, trying to process everything that happened. Someone else had been in the room. Had they followed the thief inside? Was it his accomplice? An eternity seemed to pass before I heard anything else again.

‘ANGELA!?’ someone called from below. Footsteps pounded up the stairs and down the hallway. ‘Angela! Are you here?!’ That was when I began to sob.

‘B-Bryce! Bryce - in here!’

“You know the rest,” I finished at the kitchen table. “You led me downstairs and out the front door - over that man's body. By the time we’d come outside, Cassie had the police on the phone and more neighbors were poking around. 

“That’s all I really know.” I concluded listlessly.

“Okay…” Bryce murmured, clearly unsure of what to say. “So - this guy broke into your house to kill you, but decided to taunt you first with these weird calls?”

“No," I replied, shaking my head. "The calls weren’t him at all. I told you - it was Dad.” Bryce eyed me curiously and I sighed, 

“You don’t believe me.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” Bryce insisted. “It’s just that… well. Well, for Christ sake, Angie, you don’t really believe a ghost was calling you this whole time?”

“I do,” I said firmly. “And you know how I know? Because dad died at exactly 2:17 am. And that’s when almost all of those calls came in.”

“Angie, come on,” Bryce protested wearily.

RING! RING!

We both jumped at the sound of Bryce’s phone blaring from the edge of the table. He blinked at the screen, the word "UNKNOWN" lighting up the darkened kitchen.

“I think it’s for you,” I said dryly.