Dollhouse { 𝓑𝔁𝓑 }

{ 𝔓𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢 }

As rain poured relentlessly outside, the wind howled, sharp and cold. A boy with pale skin and light blue eyes sat quietly by the window, his gaze distant as he pressed ointment into the bruises on his thighs and legs.

"Ow," he whimpered softly, squeezing his eyes shut at the sting.

His uncut, icy blond hair whipped wildly in the cold wind while his pale blue eyes flickered with pain, and his rosy lips pressed into a thin line as he carefully continued to apply the ointment to the purple and red bruises on his thighs.

His name is Etienne Theodore, meaning "crowned gift of God." Or perhaps not.

Etienne is a fragile, gentle boy, haunted by the trauma that followed his mother's death. Ever since, he has been locked in a world of quiet suffering. His father, abusive and toxic, is the one responsible for the bruises that now mar his delicate pale skin.

Etienne is a poor, lonely boy, living in a small house in Moscow with his father Vladimir Theodore. With his delicate features, he resembles a fragile doll, seemingly untouched by the harsh realities surrounding him.

In the dim light of his small home, he often sits in silence, alone, playing with his dolls or just simply watching the cars pass by outside.

Etienne rose from his bed, the wooden floor creaked softly beneath his footsteps as he made his way to the open window. He gently closed it, to shut out the cold wind. But as he glanced outside, his pale blue eyes widened with a flicker of unease. Outside, four strange black SUVs were parked in front of his house, their presence strange.

Etienne hesitated for a moment, standing by the window longer than he intended. The sight of the black SUVs lingered in his mind, a strange
discomfort. He watched as the cold wind shifted the trees outside, their bare branches flying in the sky. Who could they be? he wondered. They'll leave soon. Just some people passing through, he told himself.

He turned away, dragging his feet back to the bed. His fingers dropped as he reached for the ointment on his bed. He closed the lid shut under his shaky fingers.

As he sat on the edge of the bed, his thoughts drifted back to the days before his mother's death. He remembered her gentle touch, the warmth in her smile. A gift from God-his name was supposed to carry that meaning. But where was that gift now? He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt anything warm.

His slender fingers reached for the small cross necklace resting against his chest. It had been a gift from his mother, given to him when he was just a little boy. She had pressed it into his hands, telling him it would protect him from the evil in the world.

Etienne held onto it tightly now. He could still hear her soft voice, the warmth in her words. "Keep this close, my love," she'd said. "It will watch over you when I can't."

Since her death, it was just him and his father-if one could even call him that anymore.

Etienne looked down at his hands, pale and trembling slightly from the cold and pain. I can't think about him right now.

He lay back on the bed, pulling the thin blanket over himself. Outside, the wind rushed, but his mind kept wandering back to those cars. Why are they here? Stop it, Etienne. You know better than to ask questions, he thought.

He clutched his bunny stuffed animal closer against his chest, the softness of its fur bringing a small comfort. The bunny had been with him for as long as he could remember, a silent friend through all the quiet, lonely nights.

Suddenly, Etienne's thoughts were broken by the screaming deep voice coming from downstairs.
"Etienne!" his father's voice yelled from downstairs, louder and harsher than usual. "Come down right now!"

Etienne's heart skipped a beat, panic washing over him. Daddy?

"Oh no...," he whispered, his voice trembling as he jumped from his bed. What did I do? Why is Daddy yelling? The questions fell through his mind, but there was no time to think. His heart raced as he stood frozen for a moment, clutching the stuffed bunny in his trembling hand.

Please, please don't hurt me, he thought, his fear rising as he tiptoed toward the door. He could already feel the familiar pain of bruises blooming across his skin, and could already hear the harsh words coming out from his father's mouth.

With trembling hands, Etienne opened the door, the floor creaking beneath him as he walked down stairs.

As Etienne reached the bottom of the stairs, his doe eyes widened in shock. Standing in the middle of the room were four men in black suits, their faces cold and unreadable.

The sight of them sent a shiver down his spine, but it wasn't just their presence that froze him in place-it was what he saw next.

His father, Vladimir, was on the floor, his hands roughly tied behind his back. Blood dripped from his nose, staining the floor beneath him. His face was bruised and beaten, and for a brief moment, Etienne didn't recognize him.

"Take him instead!" Vladimir shouted from the floor in joy. "Take him to pay my debt! He's all yours!"

What does daddy mean? Etienne thought, fear rising in his chest as he stared at the four men circling him. His wide, pale blue eyes darted around the room in fear, his heart racing.

But then, out of the corner of his eye, Etienne noticed something-or someone. Sitting on the sofa in front of him was a man, larger than the others, his presence somehow darker, more menacing.

He hadn't spoken a word, yet his mere presence seemed to dominate the room. His face was hidden, turned slightly away from Etienne, but the jet-black hair and his pale skin were intimidating.

Etienne's eyes, trembling with fear, caught sight of the tattoos that snaked up the man's neck, barely visible under the collar of his white shirt.

The man rose slowly from his seat, towering over everyone in the room. He was taller, broader, more imposing than Etienne had imagined. As he turned to face him fully, his piercing blue eyes locked onto Etienne's, cold and unreadable.

The intensity of that stare made Etienne's breath catch, as if the man could see straight through him, stripping away whatever fragile defenses Etienne had left.

The tattoos snaked up his neck and onto his veiny hands seemed even more visible now. His hands, rough and covered with dark ink, flexed slightly as he stood there, muscles tense beneath the fabric of his sharp black suit.

A small, thin cut marked on his lips, adding to his already dangerous appearance. It looked old, and yet the cut did nothing to diminish his commanding presence. If anything, it only made him more intimidating. Everything about him screamed power and authority, from the way he carried himself to the tattoos that snaked up his neck and onto his veiny hands.

He looked handsome, almost godly, with a sharp jawline and striking features. Yet there was something more beneath than that-something dark and scary. He was like a tyrant, a beast, exuding power with every movement, every calculated glance.

Etienne couldn't help but feel both awed and scared, caught between admiration and fear.

As he stared down at Etienne, those piercing blue eyes bore into him, and for a moment, it felt like the entire world had shrunk down to just the two of them.

The cut on his lip curled slightly as if he were almost amused by the situation, by Etienne's fear. He seemed to take in every detail of the boy's fragile frame, the trembling hands, the wide, terrified doe eyes, the bruises on his legs and the small stuffed bunny on his right hand.

He slowly took a step closer, as Etienne tilted his head up wider to look at him.

"So, this is the boy, huh?"