For Christmas, my daughter asked for a doll. Being 2011, I thought this was strange. Usually, little girls want Little Pet Shop toys and things like that. I didn’t try to deture her from her request, so I got it for her. When she tore open the wrapping paper and saw the American Girl doll that I paid $300 for to look just like her, she screamed in excitement and glee.
For about 6 months, she took it everywhere. To the mall, to school, to movies, etc. Then she just stopped playing with it. One night, as my wife and I were sound asleep, my daughter walks into my room. She shook me awake and told me “She doesn’t play with me anymore” and then went silent. I said “Honey, what do you mean?” She said nothing. I then touched her shoulder to see if I could get her to talk, but…. It was cold. As cold as plastic… I turned on the light and realized that it was my daughter’s American Girl doll.
I stood there for a few seconds with my daughter’s doll in my hands, trying to peice together what is going on. I went to my daughter’s room to check if I was just dreaming. For some reason, the light was on. I opened the door just a crack.. What I saw will haunt me for the rest of my life… I will never forget it… I saw blood covering the walls. Dripping down them like the drop off of Niagra. So much blood. I slowly look over, still in shock, and see what was left of my daughter… All of her limbs were torn off of her body, her hair was a tangled, torn mess, her eyes were missing and her organs were pulled out her. On the blood-soaked wall, spelled with her intestines lay the words “American Girl”. I vomit. This was my fault. I payed for this… evil thing to befall me beloved daughter like this… this brutal and disgustingly horrid was.
I turn around and see her doll standing in the hallway. All I can see is a silhouette of a girl in a dress and a knife. That is the last thing I see. I wake up after what feels like an eternity. I am very nausious and dysphoric. I look down at my legs and see that they are both plastic. As are my hands and the rest of my body. As I realize this, I begin to cry. Only, I can’t. My face is frozen in place. I look forward and see that I am in a cardboard box, facing someone who looks like my late daughter. I can only sit there and want to cry. This is the life of an American Girl.
Credit To – CreepPastaReadins666
Credit Link - youtube.com/
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