Dear Creepypasta [#Wattys2016]

Best friend

Alice is my best friend. I love playing games with her, everything from hide and seek to pretend tea parties. I'd love to play dress up with her, but that wouldn't work. My clothes wouldn't fit her and hers wouldn't fit me. I can't go to school with her either. I'm not allowed in her school.

Some people don't understand the relationship me and Alice have. I see the glances they give us when we walk hand in hand down the street. Her father is the worst. He really doesn't like me at all. He won't say it in front of Alice but he's never shy about telling me just how utterly creepy he finds me.

It could be the age difference between us. Alice is seven, while I was already past my prime in the seventies. Yes, unfortunately I've become the type of old woman you sometimes see in those charity shops. I sometimes wonder if it would be better or worse if I was male. It probably wouldn't make a difference.

Perhaps it's just my eyes? They say that the eyes are the window to the soul, so maybe Alice's father doesn't like what he sees in mine. On more than one occasion I've heard him open the door to Alice's room, see me snuggled up in bed with her and mutter to himself about how much he hates my eyes.

Me and Alice could be happy together if it wasn't for her father. I've endured more than enough of his rudeness without saying a word. He'll wrinkle his nose as he stares at me, making hurtful comments about just how "wrong" I am while I just smile back at him and keep my misery to myself.

Enough is enough, I've come up with a plan to get rid of that horrible man. I'll wait until Alice is asleep, then I'll climb out of her bed and make my way down the stairs. I can move very quietly when I want to, so nobody will wake up.

There's a toolbox in the cupboard under the stairs where Alice's father keeps an assortment of fun toys. My favourite is his retractable knife. He always makes sure to keep its blade fresh and I'm sure it'll have no problem sliding into his throat.

When I've got my knife, I'll climb back up the stairs. Again, I'll be ever so quiet and ever so careful not to laugh. I can laugh as much as I want once he's dead. Me and Alice can play all the time and he'll never say anything mean to me again.

I'll sneak into his bedroom and listen to him snore for a while. He'll have no idea that I'm stood beside him, staring at his sleeping face with those eyes he hates so much. I'll wait until his dreams disturb him or his own snoring wakes him. The last thing he'll see is me smiling down at him, not saying a word.

That's when I'll cut his throat. He won't even have time to scream before the blood comes gushing out. I know he'll try to fight, try to push me off him, but it won't help. I'm a lot stronger than I look and it won't be hard for me to pin his head down as his life bubbles away.

Once the spark fades from his eyes, I'll put the knife in his hands. I won't leave any fingerprints on it, so everybody will think he did it to himself. Then I'll lie down on the bed beside him and wait for the police to arrive. I doubt they'll suspect me, but it wouldn't matter if they did. There's no way they'd send me to prison. You can't arrest a doll.