I ran to my best friend Catherine's house down the street, right in the middle of the road. You see, Cat and I live in a town called Louisville. Never heard of it? Well that makes sense. It's basically the smallest town in existence.

I hope you didn't misinterpret how I feel about Louisville. I like it a lot. I can walk everywhere, there's barely any traffic, and my close friends are easy to reach. The only thing that sucks is that all my friends plan on going to college extremely far away from here. I feel like I'm the only person who doesn't loathe my hometown.

I raced to Cat's front door, ringing the doorbell and grinning. The door opened to her with a major bed-head and still in her pajamas.

"Good afternoon, sleepy-head!" I greeted her.

"Hey Andrea," she said sleepily. "Come on in, I'm just gonna get dressed." I smiled and shut the door behind me, plopping myself on her couch.

"Where are your parents?" I called out, curious.

"They're outta town again. Won't be back till next Saturday." She came out in shorts and a tank top while in the middle of putting her hair up. "Wanna stay here with me until they get back?" she asked sweetly. I smiled.

"'Kay, I'll just call my mom and get her to pack a bag for me."

My mom showed up 10 minutes later with a duffle bag and hugged me goodbye. She hadn't spoken to me too much ever since my dad moved out a few months ago. He never called or visited, and he barely left any notice when he left. He told us and then ditched us. My mother and I hadn't talked about him, or mostly anything else, since.

Before she left, my mother gave me a package. "It came a few minutes ago," she said quietly. I nodded and she went to her car without another word. I shut the door, walking back to the living room where Cat was watching her favorite movie, Chucky goes Psycho.I shivered, that doll gave me the creeps.

Cat, however, was obsessed with Chucky. She read all about the murders blamed on the doll, watched the movie over and over, and always made him the topic of conversation. The stories had blacked out the name of the kid who blamed the doll for killing people, for his privacy, and she was especially intrigued in finding out who he was.

"You're watching this again?" I asked her, obviously disgruntled.

"What's in the package?" she asked, ignoring me.

"I dunno, but let's find out." I looked at the label out of habit, seeing Andy Barclay printed on the front. I idly wondered if this package was meant for my father, whom I was sort of named after, but quickly shook that thought away. I ripped off the tape and opened the box.

I pulled whatever it was out from the box, curious. What I saw scared me to death, making me scream and throw it across the room.

"Oh my god, is that Chucky?" Cat cried excitedly, running over to the horrid thing and picking it up. "It is! This is awesome! Who sent him?" I frowned, looking at the label again.

"It doesn't say," I muttered, disappointed that I couldn't send it back. Suddenly an idea popped in my head.

"Uhh, Cat?"

"Hm?" she replied absent mindedly, staring at the doll.

"Would you like to keep him?" I asked.

She gasped, grinning. "Really?"

"Yes, really."

She squealed and jumped up and down, running to me and hugging me.

"Oh my god, thank you!" she repeated over and over. I stared at the doll between us, feeling uneasy about how it was looking at me…