CHAPTER 32 The Shadow S ibby took the fall for the murders. After chopping the bodies into pieces and loading them in the trunk, we sat on the hood of my Mustang, where I was once again reminded just how broken this doll actually is. Sounds like her father was a piece of shit. Can’t help but muse over the fact that she has a reason to end up the way she did and I... don’t. Just as I was getting into my car, the cops pulled up. Sibby refused to get in, insisting that she needed to stay with her henchmen. Men who don’t actually fucking exist. And I didn’t have time to stay and argue. I had chopped up pieces of body parts in my trunk and needed to not only get away from the police but dispose of the evidence without getting caught. So, I left. The police chased me for five miles before I lost them. I have backup license plates on hand, so once I got to a safe area, I changed my plates and clothing, burnt the evidence, and drove home. There are one hundred and sixty-two people in Seattle with the same make and model, but they’ll never be able to pin anything on me even if they magically narrowed it down to me. In the end, the police pinned the murders on a mentally unstable girl and an unknown accomplice. I figured the Society would look into the crime and find an unknown accomplice suspicious. Enough to up and move. But after looking into Sibby myself, I found that she was born into a fucked-up cult and wanted for the murder of her father. Her father rivaled Jim Jones, spouting about being God’s disciple and tricking hundreds of people into believing in his word. He was a rich man who came from old money. He spent his riches on building a compound for his followers, confining them to a stretch of land for the rest of their lives. That’s where Sibby was born and raised, up until she committed a heinous crime and fled. There are reports of Sibby’s mother committing suicide via poison, and it seems that’s what led to the broken doll finally snapping. She snuck into her