Jean-Paul, a wealthy surgeon from Paris, and Veronique, his new young bride, had just returned from their two-week honeymoon - sailing in the Caribbean. One of the souvenirs that Veronique brought back was an antique doll, which according to the old Haitian lady that sold it to her, had special powers.
The couple both had busy lives, and returned to work the
following day. That evening, Veronique arrived home after a long day at
the finance
company where she was a receptionist.
Her
husband, who was a skilled chef in his spare time, was in the kitchen,
preparing dinner. 'Jean-Paul, my love, where is my doll? I left it on
the sofa this morning?'
'It's on the bed, my darling,' the handsome doctor replied.
'How did it get there? Did you move it?'
'No. Of course not. It must have been you Veronique. You know how
forgetful you are.'
It was almost midnight, and Veronique was taking
a shower while Jean-Paul was looking at some notes for a presentation
he
was to give in Vienna. 'She
doesn't love you.' Jean-Paul heard a voice
that took
him by surprise.
'She's been having an
affair with your brother.'
Jean-Paul looked around the room. 'Who's there? Who said that?' he
asked. But the room was silent. He looked around the room and saw
nothing, but his eyes were drawn
to
Veronique's doll; its black glass
eyes staring
at him from the sofa.
'Veronique... Where is your doll?' he shouted to his wife still in the
bathroom.
'It's in the bedroom on my pillow, my love... Why?'
'No reason, no reason. It doesn't matter.' He picked up the doll and
studied it closely, then walked into the bedroom and placed it on her pillow.
That night, Jean-Paul had difficulty sleeping. he lay in the
dark thinking about what happened; his pretty new wife sleeping soundly
beside him, and the doll staring at him with its black glass eyes.
'Maybe I'm suffering from stress... I have been working too hard
recently,' he thought to himself, 'or maybe I'm going insane,
like my
father.'
'Look in her purse,
you'll find the truth,' came the voice suddenly.
'Shut up! Shut up! shouted the doctor and he snatched
the doll and threw
it against the wall. His wife woke up startled,
'What are you doing
Jean-Paul? Are you crazy?
'It was talking to me!'
'What was?
'The doll. Your stupid doll talks to me.'
'Jean-Paul, please calm down. Listen... maybe you should see a
psychiatrist.'
'What? No way! I'm not going crazy. I'm not like my father. I'm not...
Please believe me,' his voice trailed off.
'Today, renowned surgeon, Doctor Jean-Paul Chevalier, was commited to a psychiatric hospital,' the televion newscaster announced, 'His doctors have declared him insane after he attacked his new wife and he was found running in the street holding a doll. He told the police that the doll told him to attack her.'
Veronique sat in front of her mirror, carefully applying
make-up to
her
bruised
face. In front of her, on the dressing table, lay her husband's
many gold credit cards and three small voice
recorders. She smiled, and
picked up
one of the recorders; one of her long, well-manicured
fingers pressed
'Play'.
'She loves your
brother.. They laugh at you... Kill her... KILL HER!' came
the voice.
Veronique laughed and got ready to go shopping.