Doll of Fate
Copyright© 2025 by Heel
Chapter 4: Adjustments and Observations
Home felt different. The apartment she knew so well now seemed like a small obstacle course. Seren maneuvered carefully on crutches, each step measured, the long-leg cast heavy from just above her ankle to mid-thigh. Her left foot hung limply, unable to bear any weight. Every movement required careful planning—one wrong step, and she would topple. The living room rug, once soft and playful under Orla’s little feet, now seemed like a hidden trap.
Orla followed closely, whispering “Mama walk careful,” in her small, serious voice. Every squeak of the crutches or bump against furniture made her hesitate.
Bree was on the couch. The doll’s bent leg was still awkwardly twisted, plastic joint half-loosened. Seren picked it up gently, turning it in her hands.
She paused.
The memory hit her suddenly: the snap of Bree’s leg, followed—just minutes later—by her own fall.
It seemed like a ridiculous connection at first. A toy breaking and a person falling? A toddler’s rough play and an adult’s misstep? Surely coincidence. But the sequence was too exact to ignore.
She replayed the morning in her head: • Orla pushes too hard on Bree’s leg. Crack.
• She sets the doll down and goes to fold laundry.
• A few minutes pass. Her foot slips. Knee collapses. Severe injury, leg now completely useless.
Seren frowned. Timing. The timing was uncanny.
She placed Bree on her lap, running her fingers over the plastic. Nothing strange about the doll. Its eyes, its smile, its body—perfectly ordinary. And yet, she couldn’t shake the sense of symmetry, the way the snapped leg seemed to precede her own accident.
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