Beholden No More

Her glassy eyes drove me mad.  In a fit of rage, I took the doll into the kitchen and grabbed a knife.  She said something in that dull, mechanical voice of hers as I slapped her down on the counter, but I refused to listen.  I raised the knife high in the air.  Like a human guillotine I then slammed it down across her neck. 

Her round plastic head jerked back, separated from its body.  She had time to cast me only one last glassy-eyed look before her head fell off the counter.  It rolled along the floor until it came to rest underneath the sink.

I laid the knife down.  With some uncertainty, I pushed my fist into her dolly stomach, but nothing happened.  She was silent at last.

I had killed it.  I had killed the purple witch’s doll.