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Third person p.o.v.

"Papa, you would never leave me, would you?" The little girl asked, her small voice trembling in the dark room as she clutched a worn, threadbare stuffed toy to her chest. Shadows danced along the walls, cast by the flickering candle barely lit the space.

Taking the silence as a yes, she continued, her voice soft but insistent.

"You'll always stay by my side, won't you?" She whispered, glancing toward the empty chair across from her, where the air felt wrong, as if something unseen hovered there.

There was no answer—only the low creak of the floorboards beneath her feet.

"You'll be with me through thick and thin, won't you?" She asked again, her eyes wide and pleading as she stared into the void.

The candle flickered, and a cold draft snaked through the room, ruffling her hair.

She waited. Silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until the toy in her arms suddenly felt heavier, its fabric cold and damp. She shivered but held it tighter, the weight almost comforting.

"Papa...?" She asked, her voice barely audible.

From the darkness came a low, almost imperceptible whisper, a sound like breath brushing past her ear.

"I never left."

"I've always been here, little queen," The voice whispered again, cold yet familiar, making the girl's grin stretch wider as she hopped to her feet and made her way toward the velvet red couch. She sat down, legs swinging, placing her doll beside her as the ruffles of her dress settled softly around her knees.

"Okay!" She chirped, her voice light as if the dark, heavy silence of the room was perfectly normal. She glanced down at the doll, its glassy eyes staring blankly ahead, then looked back toward the emptiness, her brow furrowing.

"Papa?" She asked, her voice quieter this time. But again, the silence pressed in, thick and unyielding. After a moment, she sighed and slowly lifted her sleeve, revealing a jagged, dark mark etched across her small shoulder, its shape strange, unnatural.

"Why do I have this again?" She murmured, her fingers pressing against the mark, tracing its edges. The skin was colder there like it didn't belong to her at all. "All the other girls look pretty... and I have this!" Her voice cracked slightly as she tugged her sleeve back down, hiding the mark.

She drew her knees close to her chest, the motion suddenly making the room feel impossibly smaller, as though the shadows were closing in around her. The doll, forgotten for a moment, was snatched back into her arms and hugged tight against her as if it could shield her from whatever lingered in the air.

"Now nobody wants to hang out with me," She whispered, her voice muffled against the doll's stiff fabric.

The room responded with a slow creak, like old wood groaning under an invisible weight. And then, barely audible, the voice returned, a low, distorted whisper from behind her ear, "You don't need them little queen... You have me, and I'll always protect you."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

The little girl smiled faintly, but there was something wrong about it—something that stretched just a little too wide, something that didn't reach her eyes. She hugged the doll tighter, as the shadows behind her began to shift, crawling closer like they had a will of their own.

The room felt cavernous around her—too large for such a small girl, swallowed up by the dark, cold walls that stretched far beyond the reach of the dim candlelight. In the center of it all was a grand, cushioned bed draped in heavy linens, looming over the space like a silent witness. Directly in front of it sat the red velvet couch, where she had been perched moments before. The deep, thick curtains covering the windows allowed no light to seep through, leaving the room cast in permanent twilight. The carpet was bare, save for a few stains.

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