đšđ± I thought I had simply hired an ordinary housekeeper, but one day, in her room, I came across a box containing a doll that was an exact copy of me, covered in needles. When I realized who she really was and why she had come into my home, I nearly took my own life.
Three months ago, I hired a housekeeper. An ordinary one, or so it seemed at the time. Neat, polite, with an impeccable background and a calm gaze.
We quickly got used to each other. The house was always in order, the food was delicious, and she herself turned out to be unexpectedly caring.
Soon I began to feel worse. Constant weakness, nausea, strange attacks. Doctors couldnât find any cause; the tests were clear. On such days, Lisa tried especially hard: she made me tea, helped me, and hardly left my side.
One day I noticed her adding some kind of liquid to my tea. She said it was a herbal remedy that always helped. I believed her and even began asking her to add it more often.
That day, the pain was unbearable. There was no one else in the house, so I went to her room for help. Lisa wasnât there, but a box stood on the floor.
đ±đ± I stepped closer and froze. Inside was a doll with my face and needles stuck into its body. Behind me, I heard Lisaâs calm voice:
â You shouldnât have seen what you werenât meant to see yet âŠ
Continuation in the first comment.đđ
Lisa spoke calmly, almost gently, as if explaining something she had planned long ago.
She said I was supposed to learn everything later, when I would no longer be able to scream or resist, and that these words were meant for my dying hearing.
But since everything had gone differently, she decided to tell the truth now. It was she who had been doing all of this to me all along.
The doll in the box was my image, and every time she stuck the needles in, she imagined how much it hurt me, how I was slowly fading away, just as she herself had once faded away.
She confessed that we were sisters and had the same father. He acknowledged me, gave me a name, a home, protection, and love, while he rejected her without even wanting to know her.
And for all her tears, for years of humiliation and loneliness, she believed it was I who had to pay. My pain and my strange illness were, in her mind, the price for restoring justice.
The drops she added to the tea worked slowly and were almost undetectable in tests, but gradually poisoned the body. As she spoke, Lisa took a step toward me, and there was no longer any care or warmth in her eyes.
At that moment, a noise was heard behind the door. Someone entered the house. Lisa froze for a second, and I, gathering my last strength, screamed. That scream saved my life.
