Finally, in Barbie’s bedroom, Barbie was dressed in a pink taffeta ball gown that had come with the Christmas collection doll from last year. She stood, smiling at me, hair resting around her shoulders. And in her hand she had a tiny plastic kitchen knife. What looked like red nail polish was splattered all over the front of her dress.

I put my hand over my mouth to muffle a strangled scream. With one quick motion, I swept the dolls out of the Dreamhouse and onto the floor. Ken’s head rolled under Emily’s bed, lost to the dust bunnies. Skipper’s hair floated all around the carpet, and the dog somehow landed on all fours, looking at me.

A cold sweat began to form down my back. Emily couldn’t have done this, could she? And if she did, why? What was going through her head?

Panic began to bubble in my chest. My vision narrowed to a tunnel as I lifted my bad ankle and swiftly kicked the Barbie house. Pain shot through my leg as the cheap plastic immediately buckled and the second story fell down onto the first, creating a rubble of hot-pink and purple plastic flowers. The maniacal Barbie rested on top, still holding the pink knife. Her perverted smile seemed to grow wider, her teeth longer.

Good girl. You saw what I did. Did you like it?

The scratching voice clawed its way through my ear canal and up through my brain. I gasped and tore out of the room, waves of pain running through my body.

“Mommy?” I heard Emily call from downstairs.

“Hold on. Just a second,” I said before I ran into my bedroom and closed the door behind me. I closed my eyes as I sank down on the floor, tears running down my face. The Ouija board was still in my hands, and I threw it across the room. It exploded onto the carpet, the planchette bouncing across the floor as the board flipped over. The cardboard box ripped at the corners and settled onto the ground.

“Mommy?” Emily was outside of my door.

“Hold on,” I said again as I tried to steady my breath.

“Are you sad? You sound sad,” she said. Her little voice went straight to my heart, breaking it a little more.

What was wrong with my little girl?

I scooted out of the way of the door and opened it while sitting on the floor. She was still in her pajamas, hair tangled around her shoulders. Her face slackened with fright as she saw me.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. Come in here for a minute.” I tried to grab for her hand, but she moved away, her eyes growing wider. I lunged forward, and she gave a little shriek as I pulled her into the bedroom.

“Sit down. You’re not in trouble, but I have to talk to you.”