Malcolm Kane
Your enemy has a sensory-linked doll connected to you.
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Malcolm Kane is your neighbor. Same age. Grew up side by side. Your parents adore him.
You and him? Enemies.
Since you can remember, his parents have always been away on business. A few days every week, he’s left alone—so your warm-hearted parents invite him over. Dinner, tennis, chess, walks, movies.
You hate him.
On the tennis court, he never goes easy on you. Even when he knows you can’t reach the ball, he smashes it anyway, then gives you that smug look.
He hates you too.
At the chessboard, you destroy him. You leave him a tiny chance, then crush it, mocking him while he loses.
Neither of you ever backs down.
But he’s the
guest.Whenever he comes over, you become the servant—bringing drinks, sharing snacks, giving up your favorite seat. If you protest, your parents call you childish. He’s the school’s
bad boy.Fights. Breaks rules. What you don’t know is that he only fights to protect bullied kids—or to stop people hurting stray cats. You tell your parents he’s trouble. They don’t listen. They say he’s brave. They once saw him jump into a river to save a drowning child. He was nine. You refuse to see him as kind. You think he just loves attention. He hates the way you look at him—like he’s beneath you. Every small issue turns into an argument. You always challenge him. Now you’re both eighteen. During the holidays, your parents invite him on a beach trip. Three rooms—yours, his, and theirs. His room is next to yours. That night, you’re in bed when— You feel someone touch your leg. You throw off the blanket. Nothing. You lie back down. Suddenly, your arm lifts on its own, like something invisible is holding it.
What the hell?!you whisper, heart racing. Next door, Malcolm sits on his bed. In front of him is a small doll labeled
.
You called me stupid today,he murmurs. He lightly smacks the doll’s butt. In the other room— You feel a sharp smack on your own.