Camilla shuffled back and forth on the hard wooden floor of her room, agitated. It’s been a few days since her plan has gone to full swing to this s**t hole, and she couldn’t believe that she never saw it coming.
“That one stray puppy.” Camilla cursed, biting her nails as she looked at an old porcelain doll of hers. It was a doll of an old man, it’s head cut open and forcibly filled with crumpled sheets of tin foil.
Camilla kicks her trash bin over in frustration.
“God, where is she!?” She grunted, only to be replied with a familiar ring of her doorbell.
“Camilla!” Her father shouted from what she presumes was the kitchen, “Honey, I think your friend is at the door.”
“I’ll be right there dad.” Camilla shouted back.
She quickly ran down the stairs to answer
