“What the hell was I thinking?” Margot bared her teeth in a grimace. “Tequila. You weren’t doing much thinking.” “Did I . . . did I realize how stupid this was?” Elle shook the doll in the air. She’d even attached those twisty-ties they kept in the junk drawer, the red ones from bread loaves, to the doll’s head like hair. It looked terrifying, like some rustic doll of olden time possessed with the spirit of a vengeful child. Elle was creeped out that she had made it. “Please tell me I came to my senses.”
