Bill Stone was, by everyone but his mother-in-law’s estimation, the most maddeningly rational man on Earth, so it came as no surprise to Anne when he saw nothing wrong with their child. Doctor Albright confirmed the diagnosis, that afternoon and at every one of the girl’s check-ups for the next three years.
‘Still nothing to worry about, mother; this little girl’s as close to perfect as a child her age can be.’
‘What about her…habits?’
Doctor Albright shot Bill a glance. ‘What habits are those?’
Anne ignored the pat-her-on-the-head tone. ‘The way she stares, and the way she grabs things and won’t let go?’
The doctor shot Bill another quick glance. ‘What kinds of things?’
‘Anything that takes her strange little fancy. I was having a smoke the other night and I dropped my lighter. She grabbed it. I was worried she might burn herself so I said: “Give it to Mummy, ta,” and she bit me like a rabid dog!’
‘It wasn’t that bad, darling.’
‘You didn’t have her teeth in your arm!’
‘Let’s take a closer look,’ the doctor picked Samantha up and sat her on his desk. He opened his desk drawer and took out a lollipop. The child showed no interest.
‘She won’t go for that,’ Anne sighed.
‘What do you suggest then, dear?’
‘Give her your scissors.’
‘Anne! He’ll do no such thing!’
The doctor winked at Bill. ‘That’s alright, we’ll be watching.’
He picked up the scissors and handed them to the child, the blades facing him as safety precautions dictated. The lightning speed with which she grabbed the offering wasn’t really a concern – the need for immediate possession of a coveted item was normal in a child her age, and her quick reflexes were encouraging in that they ruled out any mental dullness her silence might otherwise have pointed to. He held out his hand.
‘Now, my love, give it back.’
The child refused. ‘Scissors hurt, don’t they? Give the pointy things back, there’s a good girl.’
Samantha’s grip on the scissors was such that Doctor Albright had to enlist Bill’s help retrieving them. Just as they were slipping from her grasp, she made a last ditch effort to keep them. With no screaming, crying or flailing of limbs to foreshadow it, the tiny hand came down and embedded the silver blades in the doctor’s testicles.
When the whispers of speculation from the patients in the waiting room started getting louder, Doctor Albright’s nurse, Martha, entered the room, as inconspicuously as possible under the circumstances.
‘What the hell?’
Bill Stone was on his knees before his wife, pleading with her to calm down. Doctor Albright was on his side, trying to pull the scissors from his wounded undercarriage with a shaky hand and swearing through his teeth. Anne Stone had her hands clapped over her ears like a petulant child, in a futile attempt to block out her husband’s voice.
‘She’s not normal! She’s not normal,’ she pointed, ‘look at her!’
All eyes turned toward the china doll sitting on the desk.
She smiled.
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