It took us only a second to locate Mr. BadDummy. Dad spotted him first and pointed at him. "Clay, there he is. It is okay." He rubbed my back. "Your partner in crime is here safe and sound."

I should have been relieved to see my dummy. I should have been happy. But I was not. My throat was dry. My muscles stayed tensed. My heart thudded even faster. I was paralyzed with fear. I could move my mouth, but I could not speak. It was like that my voice box had been ripped out. I could not pry my eyes off Mr. BadDummy no matter how much I tried. I do not have the slightest clue why, but I imagined him stuffing his wooden hand in my throat and tearing out my voice box.

The puppet waved said voice box left and right in front of my face. He looked at my bloody voice box, and then back at me. "Heehee. What is the matter, Clay? Puppet got your voice?" He threw back his head and laughed.

Something warm ran over my bottom lip and down my chin. I touched it using two shaking fingers and gasped when I saw what was on them. Blood. Bright red blood was spilling out of my mouth. It was because the living dummy had teared out my poor voice box. Blood drops dripped off my chin and on the carpet. A couple landed on my shoe. I wrapped my hands around my neck.

I was going to die. I was going to die a slow and painful death thanks to a dummy.

"Clay," Dad said, snapping me out from my frightening imagination. He grasped my arms and pulled me to my bed. He gently pushed me down and used his thumb to wipe off my blood and examined my mouth. "You must have bitten your bottom lip too hard."

I gave him a confused look. "What?"

He lowered my lip with a finger. "There is a deep cut in your bottom lip. I keep reminding you to not bite down so hard."

I must have been in such deep thought that I bit my lip without realizing it. The blood was not from my throat. My lip was bleeding. So my dummy never removed my voice box. I was not dying. Thank gosh.

I should stop biting my lips. I have had this habit since that I was a toddler. I always do it when I am scared or nervous. I do not know why.

"Sorry, Dad. I am just...shaken up." My teeth chattered as I shuddered. I hugged myself and stared hard at Mr. BadDummy. I wanted to catch him moving - if he even could. I knew that he was not alive. Souls are not stuck in dolls. But a part of me deep inside kept encouraging me to get rid of him. He was not your average dummy. He had his own brain. He could do what he wanted.

But what did he want? Whatever it was, it was sinister. I could easily see the evil in his glassy eyes.

Mr. BadDummy was chilling on the carpet across from my bed. His back was against the wall. His hands were in his lap. One leg was draped over the other. I did not leave him like that. I know so. I left him on my bed. If I am not going insane...

Was his grin always that wide?

"Why are you shaken up?" Dad asked, strolling around my bed to my dresser. "Were you scared that your little friend was stolen?" He picked up my box of tissues and returned to my side. "Or got up and wandered off?" He chuckled. "Like that could happen."

The dummy's wooden hand slid off his lap and met the floor with a soft thud.

I gasped loudly and leapt to my feet. I was hot and cold at the same time. I pointed to him. "He moved."

Dad took out a couple tissues from the box. "Who?"

"The dummy. His hand dropped onto the floor."

"Yeah. I noticed."

I shifted my head to him. "So you saw him move too."

"I would not say that he moved, Clay. You probably did not put his hand in the middle of his lap."

I plopped back down before I toppled over. "I-I did not place him in this position. I never put him on the floor. I swear. I never crossed his legs or laid his hands in his lap. I laid him down on my bed before coming to assist you with the chest."

Dad tossed the box on my nightstand and wiped up my blood with a tissue. "Maybe you forgot that you did."

"Forgot doing those things minutes after doing them?" I shook my head. "My memory is not that poor. In fact, I remember that Calista is coming over at three o'clock sharp. We are partners for a school project."

He crumpled the now bloody tissue into a tiny ball and wiped off the rest of the blood with the other. "I do not remember you telling me and your mother that Calista was stopping by."

"Well...I was planning to tell you today. Sure hope that is not a problem."

"Informing us at the last minute? Yes."

"No. I mean...Calista coming over should be no issue. I have been trying to get her to come. And you and Mom are fond of her."

"We are fond of people spending their free time with ill children and other patients."

"Yeah. She is terrific."

Calista and I have been friends since that we were only babies. Her parents are close with mine, so we wind up hanging out a lot. It was not until last year that I began having feelings for her. She is perfect. Not only is she a beautiful sight, but she is also kind and clever.

But we were not meant to be together.