I knowingly let the devil in-

the demon is me

    Now, you might be thinking- Tommy, why are you walking through alleyways in the middle of the night?

Well short answer, just because he can. Let it be known that Tommy Innit is nothing less than spiteful. His mother tells him not to take the alley as a shortcut? He's going out of spite.

Sure it might get him murdered one day- but that's a risk he's willing to take just to get back at her.

He shivers a bit as he navigates the turns and twists, stepping over trash and feral cats, and raccoons. He wishes he had the forethought of bringing a jacket, not just a thin hoodie.

He blinks as a water droplet hits the edge of his nose, looking up in confusion before it starts to pour. He groans at the almost comedic timing, and starts to jog.

As he's running, he doesn't exactly stop to check his surroundings, so it's inevitable when his foot catches on something sticking out from behind a dumpster.

He grunts as he hits the ground and lays there for a moment in silence, before rolling to get his back and faces the rain. Finding it useless to try and get out of it, he pauses to breathe.

Grumbling he finally sits up and rubs his now sore ankle, glaring around to see what he'd fallen to.

He freezes for a moment when he sees a- foot? He crawls forward, his pants now completely ruined. He finds a doll laying there, it's dirty and hard to make out.

"What the fuck?!" He then looks back at the thing, it's almost…sad looking. He supposes he'd be looking like that if he was stuck in the trash.

Grumbling under his breath, he gently plucks it from the ground, pulling the bits of trash stuck to it before using his soaked sleeve to attempt to wipe the grime off its face.

It works to some extent- but what's left staring back at him is kinda- disturbing.

He still for the life of him, can't tell what the doll is supposed to be, all he sees now are beady black eyes. They look as if they're looking directly at him, or through him.

It unnerved him, but he genuinely felt bad for it.

He laughs a little, sighing. "Un-fucking-believable…" He looks at the doll once more, "Let's hope your haunted ass can show me some mercy."
—-------------

"Thomas, don't you even think about stepping a foot on my carpet soaked as you are." Tommy's mother gripes as he walks in the door.

Tommy groans, "well what am I supposed to do? I can't dry off until I get to my room."

The woman looks up at him and raises an eyebrow, "maybe you shouldn't have been out." She states before going back to watching the TV.

Tommy huffs before taking his shoes and socks off, before sprinting towards the stairs. Snickering as he hears his mother sigh.

Once he finally gets to his room, he looks down at the doll that he had hidden under his hoodie. Now that he can see, he can tell it's supposed to be a doll of some kind of king?

It has a crown on its head but that's all he can really make out under all the grime.

"Looks like you need a bath, huh king?" He says, as if actually talking to the doll before snickering at his own antics.

He looks at the clothes the doll wears. There's holes under what looks to be a once white poet shirt, and at one point pants. All that's left of them now is rags.

"It's a good thing I know how to sew. You are in dire need of a new wardrobe."

Mumbling to himself, he walks towards his bathroom. deciding against using the bathtub, he decides to wash the doll In the sink.