Novelas y relatos de Abandoned Doll

"Miss Rossi. It's Nico Torrino." My blood runs cold. Nico. Damien's most trusted man. "What do you want?" "Easy now, bella. Just a business call." His voice is relaxed, but I know the danger beneath it. "I have no business with the Costellos." "Oh, but we do," Nico chuckles. "I'm calling on behalf of an anonymous collector. He wants you to restore a painting. The price is very generous." "I don't take anonymous commissions." "Not even for a million dollars?"

I’m the one who took something helpless, something I loved, and threw it away into darkness. “All mothers make mistakes,” my momma says. “Even a baby doll-mother like you were then. Every mistake a mother makes is a solution that turned out wrong. Thinking back on you throwing your doll away, it was one of the things that helped me decide we needed to get out of Carris. The place was so small and so isolated we were both half-crazy. I knew no matter how strange or scary a future alone might seem, I had to try and do what was best. I had to figure out what that was.” “But I loved my doll.” It’s a fact I feel, even if it isn’t one I really know.

When I pulled away from Debbie, she dropped her new doll on the floor and walked away. “Debbie, you forgot your doll,” I called after her. “I don’t want it,” she said. “It’s not like my old ones.” She walked toward the door without looking back, leaving the doll behind. Anne followed her out to find Dominic. I picked up the abandoned toy—a generic blonde doll with plastic features and empty blue eyes. Nothing like the beloved stuffed animals Debbie had treasured at home. I pressed the doll against my face and caught the faintest trace of Debbie’s scent clinging to the fabric. Then, without warning, came the tears—great heaving sobs that I couldn’t control or stop.

Even my wolf soul was bound, unable to escape. I didn’t want to die. I wanted to live. But I knew—he would never come back. The mine collapsed. Boulders and soil came crashing down like ravenous beasts, swallowing me whole. The unbearable agony forced a final howl from my throat. I died with my eyes wide open, unwilling to close them. And within my frozen womb, my unborn pup perished too. Yet all he was worried about was his lover, Sophia.

It was already the next morning when my parents regained consciousness. By then, they had already run out of tears to cry. Perhaps they had already realized that I was most likely dead when they first arrived at the snow mountain. Dad seemed to have aged ten years overnight. His back was completely hunched by now. Meanwhile, Mom kept muttering, "Please… Just give my daughter back to me… Please…" Even though I was already dead, I felt as though my soul was being tortured repeatedly. Gerard and Olivia didn't even have the patience to wait for my eventual burial—they were quick to get tangled up with each other intimately.

Angela watches her warily, focused on how her small hands correct all the imperfections of the doll, which mixes blue, green, and red in parts of its body. "What is she doing?" I ask Adrielle, my tone so low it's almost a whisper. Her eyes are also focused on our daughter, trying to understand what the doll represented. Angela started with a few questions. She asked how your day was today. Abby said she was glad you weren't home. "Your answer hits me in a way that makes my heart bleed." Angela asked why, and she didn't answer. She just started molding a doll and hasn't finished yet. We both focused on our daughter a few feet away, so focused on the doll that she barely noticed the others aro

"Books, magazines, puzzles, coloring books. Things like that." Abby thinks for a long moment, but she doesn't have anything like that to come to mind. She had a doll when she was younger that she 'took care of' by pretending that she was it's mother, but her father threw the doll and her favorite stuffed teddy bear away when she turned nine years old because he said then that she was too old for them. “I don't really have anything that brings me comfort-” Abby begins before she remembers the one thing that she does have. The one thing that she turns to when she needs an escape from her reality at the moment.

He free-climbed a cliff with no safety gear, only to fall. In that life, I had used a forbidden spell that cost me ten years of my life to save him, coughing up blood and collapsing on the spot. Later, Julian had crashed a private plane while trying to make a grand romantic gesture for Miriam, leaving him brain-dead. I had been forced to use the forbidden spell again. That time, the backlash cost me twenty years of my life. Combined with the physical toll, my hair had turned white overnight. That was why Julian had detested me in the end, allowing the servants to call me a "monster" and an "old hag" behind my back.