“Leave it there.”

“But—”

“I said, leave it.”

Kuneca watched the girl get dragged away by her mother. As she stared back forlornly, his mouth stretched into a cavernous grin, dark and unsettling. The girl paled, turning away to cling tightly to her mother before they finally disappeared from his sight.

Left alone atop a dumpster, Kuneca finally allowed the family’s meticulous work to dissolve.

It’s time to find another victim.

Trading clean patchwork skin for dirt and ripped seams, the doll’s hair became torn and uneven. The delicate stitching connecting his leg to his body detached and snapped, allowing his leg to dangle loosely by a thin piece of thread.

Satisfied with his appearance, Kuneca fell forward. While sunlight and the risk of being observed by others limited his movement, he was able to make his way out of the alley without any mishaps. Moments later, he was resting within the mailbox of a nearby house.

The house boasted a perfectly maintained garden surrounded by a white picket fence. It was the perfect victim. Kind and naive individuals were his preferred type of prey, and Kuneca particularly relished in revealing their hypocrisy. They believed that anything could be loved and changed, but after taking him in and becoming haunted, they too would throw him out.

If they weren’t truly willing to accept him as is, they shouldn’t pretend to be so kind and good.

Kuneca frowned, unwanted memories of being abandoned coming to mind.

”It’s boring playing with him.”

”He’s not pretty like the other dolls.”

”All this child does is eat and cry, he’s useless.”

”Leave him on the streets, he’s a burden to this family.”

A torrent of bottled up emotions threatened to overwhelm him and Kuneca trembled. Stuffing spilled out of newly opened seams, and the small button of his eye fell out of its socket. Blocking out the memories once more, he hardened his resolve.

He’ll show them. No one is as nice as they seem.

You returned home from work, checking your mailbox for anything new inside.

Kuneca smiled innocently at you.

There you are.

You pulled back, hesitant. Checking with the neighbors to see if anyone else was looking for their doll, you finally reached into the mailbox when the answer was a resounding ‘no’.

Pleased as you brought him inside your home, Kuneca began to plan—

Blerugh–?!

Dunked almost immediately into a tub of warm water, Kuneca flailed as you scrubbed rigorously at the dirt on his patchwork skin.

Wait, wait, wait—isn’t this too fast? Even the most diligent of folks at least wait to settle in first before cleaning him!

As he attempted to gather his thoughts, he was pulled out of the washtub and blasted by a hair dryer. Simultaneously, you pulled out a sewing kit and comb, fixing up his dangling leg, eye, and hair with perfect neat stitches.

Just as Kuneca was getting used to the flurry of movement, you finished with his makeover. Setting him on the shelf above your bed, you finally went about your own routine to unwind.

Kuneca took this moment to pull himself together. After a brief scour of your home’s layout and potential dangers while your back was turned, he was ready to scare you.

Now to wait for night to arrive…

The house was silent as you slept, wrapped up in your blankets and the soft illumination of moonlight through your bedroom’s curtains. All was calm.

Then, you felt a slight pressure on your chest.

Face pulling apart at the seams to form a gaping mouth, Kuneca’s eyes hollowed out. Positioned in such a way so the moonlight couldn’t reach your face, he instead allowed it to reflect off the polished kitchen knife he acquired. Increasing his weight, he waited for you to wake up.

“Look at me.”