Nine-year-old Mia had always been a little different. She loved her dolls more than anything—especially one she'd found in an old store while shopping with her older sister, Hailey. The doll was a porcelain beauty, with long, curly brown hair and eyes that seemed to follow Mia wherever she went. She named her Clara, after the shopkeeper's granddaughter.
But there was something wrong about Clara. Every night, Mia would hear faint whispers coming from her room, like soft voices calling her name. At first, Hailey would check, but there was nothing—just the doll, sitting perfectly still, staring at nothing.
Mia, however, didn't think Clara was just a doll. She was Clara's best friend. And as days passed, Mia felt Clara was talking to her, comforting her. Clara's whispers became clearer, seductive, even. "You're special, Mia. We belong together forever."
Hailey noticed the change in Mia. Her little sister would spend hours talking to Clara, even holding the doll to her chest like a real person. "Mia, you need to stop," Hailey would say, but Mia just giggled.
"Clara loves me, Hailey. She's my best friend. You just don't understand."
One night, Hailey decided to investigate further. She crept into Mia's room to find her sister sitting in the dark, her face illuminated by the dim light of a single candle. Clara was in her lap, her porcelain smile wider than it had ever been.
"Mia, what are you doing?" Hailey asked, her voice trembling.
Mia didn't answer. She simply stared at Clara, her eyes glazed over, her voice soft but firm. "Clara says you don't like her, Hailey. But you'll see. We'll be happy together, forever."
Hailey's heart pounded in her chest. "Mia, stop it! This doll is cursed!"
Mia's smile curled, but it wasn't the innocent grin of a nine-year-old. It was something darker. "Clara doesn't want you here anymore. She wants me. You're ruining it."
Suddenly, the room grew colder. The shadows deepened. Hailey's eyes widened as she saw Clara's eyes glint in the candlelight, but they weren't the eyes of a doll—they were alive, watching, as if waiting.
Mia stood up and placed Clara on the floor, gently patting the doll's head. "She says you have to go, Hailey. She's mine now."
Hailey backed away slowly, but before she could turn to leave, she heard a faint sound—a whisper from behind her.
"Mia?" she asked, her voice shaking.
But Mia was no longer there. In her place stood Clara, now life-sized, with the same eerie smile.
Hailey screamed, but no sound came. Her body froze as Clara's cold hand touched her arm. "You should have let me love her," the doll whispered.
The next morning, Mia was found, still smiling at Clara in her lap. Hailey's room, however, was empty. There were only strange, dark stains on the floor, and the lingering scent of lilacs.
Mia was never the same again. She had Clara. And she loved her more than anyone could understand.