(TW: CHILD ABUSE)
Rachel tracked Harmony for hours, to learn her patterns. It was an obvious tactic, but creativity had always been Harmony’s wheelhouse. Rachel was the body, not the mind. Rachel hated her for that, above all else.
“What are you doing in the bushes? Did you think I wouldn’t see you?” Harmony’s high voice rang out from behind her. How did she get there without Rachel noticing?
Rachel’s anger ebbed when she heard the familiar tone. “I hoped.”
“I always know what you’ll do before you do it. I’m in your head.”
“Then why did you leave?”
Harmony’s expression was sympathetic. “Because you grew up. All toys leave when their owners grow up.”
She was a doll that Rachel received a decade before, to keep her company on a trip to see her grandfather in California. She never got there. Harmony revealed that she was alive, and turned Rachel’s subsequent years into a living nightmare. She was forced to hurt people.
Rachel wouldn’t let her do that to another kid. Harmony was made of porcelain. She couldn’t withstand an attack from an adult.
Before Rachel could land a hit, Harmony began to sing. It was Rachel’s lullaby. She knew every word by heart, every note. Rachel never stood a chance. She blacked out, falling heavily to the ground.
Harmony spoke soothingly. “I was wrong: you’re still a little girl. You do need me.”