Chapter 145: The Terrifying Doll

Liao's father stared intently at the damned doll on the bedside, thinking it was a prank.

His blood surged toward his head, the alcohol and fury mixing together, scorching his reason away.

"Liao! You son of a bitch!"

He roared, kicking open Liao's bedroom door, charging in like a raging bull.

Liao was wearing headphones, listening to rock music, and the sudden kick startled him, sending him bouncing off his chair.

"What the hell are you doing again?!" his father snarled, grabbing Liao's hair and smashing his head hard against the wall. "Was it you who put that damn thing on my bed?!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Liao winced in pain, gritting his teeth and struggling fiercely.

"How dare you talk back!"

The father's fury found an outlet; he snatched the desk lamp and pounded Liao's back and arms with a brutal barrage.

"I told you to act! I told you to pull a prank!"

Amid the wreckage and Liao's cries of pain, the father grew tired, finally pausing with heavy breaths.

He returned to the bedroom, seized the smiling doll, his eyes filled with violent rage.

He went to the living room, slammed the doll hard onto the floor, stomped on it wildly with his foot, then grabbed a hammer from the toolbox and hammered it repeatedly.

The fabric tore, and cotton stuffing flew everywhere.

Finally, he swept the shapeless wreckage into the fireplace and lit a fire.

Watching the flames devour the last bits of debris, he spat, muttering curses as he returned to his room to sleep.

However.

At dawn the next day, a woman's scream pierced the apartment's silence.

The father jolted awake from the bed and rushed out of the bedroom.

He saw his wife in pajamas, pale and collapsed in front of the wardrobe, pointing at its interior, trembling so badly she could not speak.

He followed her finger with his gaze.

The doll that should have turned to ash was sitting intact on the neatly folded clothes.

The dress was clean and tidy, and the Weird smile on its face was flawless.

Now even Liao's father felt a chill rising from the soles of his feet.

The whole family fell into sheer terror.

From that day on, the house began to experience all sorts of inexplicable oddities.

At midnight, every kitchen utensil would be thrust upside-down into the ceiling, the blade tips glinting with a cold sheen.

The television would always turn on by itself late at night, the screen filled with flickering snow, and amid the buzzing electricity a faint giggle of a little girl could be heard.

The most terrifying thing was still the doll.

It always appeared in the most unexpected places.

The handgun the father had locked in the safe vanished into thin air, and when it reappeared, the doll was sitting beside it.

The mother had just taken a roast chicken out of the oven; when she turned around, the doll was sitting in the roasting pan, and the chicken was shredded and scattered across the table.

Each time it appeared, its posture shifted slightly, and the paint‑stained eyes always faced the people in the house.

The whole family was tormented to the brink of mental collapse.

Finally, the devout mother could no longer endure; she cried and called for a supposedly reputable old pastor.

The pastor, white‑haired and gray‑bearded, held a cross and looked kindly.

After hearing the mother's description, the pastor concluded that a demon had entered the home and possessed the doll.

He said he would perform an exorcism ritual in the house, but it required a certain payment.

Afterward, as long as he took the doll away, the demon in the house would vanish.

Liao's parents had been tormented for days, desperate to cling to a lifeline, they didn't notice anything amiss and hurriedly agreed.

In the center of the living room.

"Lord, please forgive the sins in this house..."

The pastor had just begun to close his eyes and pray when his words were cut off.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

All the light bulbs in the house exploded at once, glass shards scattering everywhere!

Dark red liquid, like fresh blood, began seeping from the walls, emitting a foul stench.

The silver cross in the pastor's hand suddenly became scorching hot; the burning heat made him scream, and he flung the cross to the floor.

He opened his eyes in terror, scanning the room, and finally fixed his gaze on the doll on the corner sofa.

In his sight, it was no longer a toy.

It was a ghostly figure, its whole being radiating soaring resentment, its features blurred, grinning silently at him.

"Demon... this is the real demon!"

The pastor, terrified to the core, rolled and crawled out of the cursed house, abandoning even his most prized cross.

The last hope was shattered.

Liao's mother completely collapsed, clutching her head and huddling in the corner, muttering endlessly as if driven mad: "Demon... the demon won't let us go unless it kills our whole family..."

The father, also deeply frightened, quickly made a decision.

"Move! Move right now! Leave this cursed place!"

He began to act immediately.

While frantically stuffing clothes into suitcases, he vented all his resentment onto his wife and child.

"It's all your fault! It's your fault, you two useless idiots, that brought the demon!"

After a while of cursing, it wasn't enough, so he started again.

He kicked Liao in the body and slapped the already despondent wife's face.

The house was filled with his beating and the cries of his wife and children.

The beaten wife no longer wept, nor did she mutter.

She just sat dumbly on the floor, eyes hollow, dazed, as if her soul had been ripped from her body.

The domestic violence paused for a while.

The family began to hurriedly pack things, preparing to flee overnight.

The father alone hauled a heavy box, drenched in sweat, only to find his wife hadn't come to help for ages.

"Damned stinky women! Where did you hide to slack off again!"

He muttered curses as he set the box down, searching the house for his wife's figure.

Finally, he found her in the kitchen.

The wife stood with her back to him, motionless at the sink.

"Are you fucking deaf? Didn't you see..."

The father's curses abruptly stopped.

He saw the wife slowly turning around.

In the father's terror‑frozen gaze, the wife held a sharp kitchen knife.

A wildly Weird, calm smile spread across her face.

And she used that knife, slice by slice, to cut the flesh off her left arm.

The motion was gentle and focused, as if she were not self‑harm but crafting a perfect piece of art.

Fresh blood spattered, even the white fascia was visible.

Yet she felt no pain.

"Ah......"

The father was utterly terrified, no sound escaped his throat, his legs went weak, he plopped onto the floor and scrambled backward with hands and feet.

Mother seemed to notice his movement and looked at him.

She halted her action, tilted her head, and her smile grew brighter.

She lifted the still‑dripping knife, stepped lightly, and walked toward him step by step.

"No...... don't come!"

The father's crotch instantly became soaked.

The next second.

Mother, at a speed that defied human physiology, leapt like a predatory cheetah!

Amid the flash of blade and blood, the father's harrowing scream echoed through the apartment.

Then, it ended swiftly.

Liao, gathering courage, stepped out of the room.

Then, he saw a blood‑soaked scene he would never forget in his life.

The father lay on his back on the living‑room floor, his chest split open, entrails spilling everywhere.

Liao let out a short, strangled scream.

Then, he raised his head in terror.

He saw his mother, like a gigantic spider, limbs bent backward, abdomen arched high, crawling upside‑down on the ceiling.

A wildly twisted, insane grin stretched across her face, and in her mouth she was savoringly chewing a piece of her father's... intestine.

In the corner of the living room.

The doll "Anna" sat there quietly.

Its painted mouth corner curved upward in a barely perceptible, delight‑filled arc.