The Doll Collector

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Chapter 9

“What am I to do with you, Abigail?” Joshua asked in a voice barely above that of a whisper. He peered down at her, his own eyebrows furrowed, in stark contrast to the serene look on the young girl’s features. “What do I do with the girl that just will not sleep?”

He had believed that the sedating of young girls was a fine art, mastered through his many years of practice. His experience, however, could not begin to help him understand why the techniques he had used so often were starting to fail him.

He paced around the limited space in her assigned bedroom. What makes this girl different, inexplicably immune to my medication?

His limited medical knowledge pointed towards the girl simply being an anomaly. She was the one in a hundred thousand or in several million that would always avoid the full effect of his comatosing cocktail. I can live within that tolerance as long as my tried and tested chloroform still sedates her, even if only briefly.

He couldn’t help but wonder whether this girl’s reaction was a sign of things to come. What if something in the diet and upbringing of today’s young girls preventing them from succumbing so easily to date rape drugs and sleeping pills?

At some point in the future he would need to study the various mitigating and aggravating factors and decide upon an appropriate course of action. It was likely that he would need to start the development of his medication methods from scratch, acquiring new pills and potions that would ensure that he stayed on top of his game. Obtaining new drugs would be risky, but the coming few days could provide the opportunity to experiment on Abigail.

He clenched the flannel in his hand in a vice grip, gritting his teeth. She talks back too much. I need to keep her quiet.

He needed a long-term, low-risk strategy, and he was unsure at that moment of the manner in which he should proceed. He even considered an immediate return of the girl, but as he looked on at her, he felt as if he was facing a challenge that he should learn to overcome.

Through our trials come our greatest opportunities for growth. Maybe this girl is just what I need.

He preferred the girls to be quiet, the opposite to Abigail. In his mind, they should await their fate in near silence, not to insult him and mock him. I’m in control and I need to show her that I am STILL in control.

If modern girls were to carry such an attitude with them, they would be less attractive in his eyes. They would have lost some of their innocence and could be nothing more than hollow thrills. He hated the emptiness of girls with no genuine beauty. If I’m starting to fail in identifying the purest girls, then perhaps I need to find alternative actions with which to occupy my time.

He looked down at Abigail again and then he stroked her arm in a patriarchal manner. She’s not in any kind of condition to be taught a lesson. She was unconscious and the tiring nature of her ordeal would probably result in her sleeping until the morning. She would not benefit from the correction unless conscious.

He looked at his watch, although he could barely make out the dial in the dimness. He probably had a few hours to figure out a way to keep this girl, and possibly the others, under his control.

She’s not the girl she seemed to be. The perfect body of an innocent schoolgirl, but the mind of a cynical college girl.

She may have been no older than fourteen, but she talked like a more worldly-wise sixteen-to-eighteen year old.

Older girls were more aware of paedophiles and rapists than the younger ones. The younger they were, the longer they typically retained their previous childlike assumptions and qualities. This girl seemed to have left such childlike attitudes behind her without indulging in inappropriate actions.

“She will be my most challenging yet,” he whispered, stepping into the hallway, pocketing the cloth. “If I can control her, she could be the crowning jewel of my collection, my masterpiece.” One corner of his mouth turned up in a half grin.

It was clear that Abigail would not sit and wait until she was rescued or released as so many others had done, but she wasn’t the first awkward girl. All others that had failed to make the grade had usually paid for their mistakes with their lives. He dearly hoped that he would not have to lay another innocent, stunningly beautiful girl like Abigail in another shallow grave.

He considered for a moment the girls that could never have made it into his collection. They had already given away the innocence that made them beautiful. They were, of course, suitably chastised. It was these girls who were shown the misery that could come from sexual activity before they were mature enough to deal with it. He had subjected some of these girls to very physical, very brutal acts that would hopefully cause them to think again before giving away something as precious as their virtue.

On occasion, the chance to provide correction came too late. The girls were damaged beyond repair and would never regain any childlike qualities. These girls, with their fraudulently fragile features, were viewed by Joshua as being the ugliest, most reprehensible of females. Their only redeeming act would be to allow themselves to be examples for other girls to try to avoid. When innocent girls could see the impact of poor life choices, they would be more determined to cling on to their virtue.

He smiled briefly to himself as a plan started to formulate. Maybe he could obtain a girl worthy of punishment. Maybe one of my other girls would fit into that category. If he was fortunate, he could punish one of those girls, making Abigail watch. He wouldn’t even have to step outside his front door. If I can make an example of another girl, I will show the smart-mouthed Abigail exactly what happens to girls when they cross me.

He looked at his watch. It was almost seven. Four hours ago his plans had been in place.

Pleased with the dull conditions, Joshua made the best possible use of a day of poor visibility. Each girl would walk past his red car on their typical route home. They had, more often than not, been alone by such a stage of their respective trips. School friends had left their sides and headed for their own warm homes.

Standing, holding a map, wearing a confused look, Joshua had first abducted Bethany, then Sandra and finally Abigail. The schools finished at different times, and Sandra utilised a local bus service to shorten her walk. The timing for the three had worked out perfectly. Such things were no coincidence. They were the result of very careful planning.

The process, repeated three times in a matter of minutes, had enabled him to apply the chloroform rag and to position them in the back of his car. The opening line, ‘Excuse me, but I was wondering if you could help me,’ enabled Joshua to help himself to the girls.

Following the abduction of girl number three he had been standing by the driver door, looking at his watch again. Three girls, taken and restrained in his car in just under fifteen minutes.

The same watch showed that the time had just reached seven o’clock. Time to check the other girls.

The other two had lain drugged in their bedrooms. He was suddenly hopeful of finding a fitting female. All I need is one girl in need of punishment. With any luck I can kill two birds with one stone.

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