Liv shot up from bed, staring into the dark.
She did not turn on the lamp in fear that she’d be greeted by the doll, sitting in its rocking chair again.
“Whatever you do, do not move the doll,” had warned the old woman who owned the Inn.
Liv threw the creepy thing into the closet, fully intent on putting it back tomorrow morning as she left.
She hadn’t given the doll a second thought until just now when she was awoken by the creaking of the rocking chair.
The closet was open.
And Liv felt eyes on her, watching.
