Dollhouse { 𝓑𝔁𝓑 }

{ 𝔓𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔢 }

RUSSIA—MOSCOW

Rain lashed against the window, the wind howling coldly outside. A pale boy with wide light blue eyes sat quietly by the window, applying ointment to the bruises on his thighs.

"Ow," he whimpered softly, squeezing his eyes shut at the sting. His pale blond hair whipped in the wind, and his plumpy lips pressed into a thin line as he gently treated the marks on his skin.

Etienne Theodore—his name once meant "gift of God," but now it felt like a joke. His mother had named him that, back when life still held some joy. But that was before her death, before everything changed. Now, all Etienne had were memories of her voice and the heavy presence of his father, Vladimir Theodore.

His father, abusive and toxic, was the one responsible for the bruises that marred his delicate skin.

Vladimir never cared for Etienne—not like a father should. To him, Etienne was just a burden, a living reminder of his mother.

The small house in Moscow, where Etienne had always lived, was a place of silence and isolation. He wasn't allowed outside, never had friends—only his dolls to keep him company. He made little imaginary worlds with them, pretending someone cared.

Most days, he sat by the window, watching cars go by. That morning, he got up, the floor creaking under his little steps. He closed the open window to block the cold wind. But when he looked outside, his pale blue eyes widened. Four black SUVs were parked in front of the house.

Etienne paused at the window, staring longer than he meant to. The black SUVs stayed in his mind, filling him with unease. Who could they be? he wondered. They'll leave soon. Just passing through.

He turned away and dragged his feet back to the bed. With shaky fingers grabbed the ointment, snapping the lid shut. Sitting on the edge, his thoughts wandered to his mother—her gentle touch, her warm smile. His name meant "gift from God." But where was that gift now? He couldn't remember the last time he felt anything warm.

Etienne reached for the small cross around his neck—a gift from his mother when he was just a little boy. "Keep this close, my love," she had said. "It will watch over you when I can't."

Now, he held it tight, clinging to the memory of her voice. Since her death, it had only been him and his father—if he could still be called that.

Etienne looked at his trembling hands. I can't think about him right now.

He lay back on the bed, pulling a thin blanket over himself. Hugging his stuffed bunny close, he found a small comfort in its familiar softness. It had been with him for as long as he could remember, his quiet companion through every lonely night.

Suddenly, Etienne's thoughts were broken by the screaming voice coming from downstairs.

"Etienne!" his father's voice yelled, louder and harsher than usual. "Come down right now!"

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

"Oh n-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 bunny in his trembling hand.

Please, please don't hurt me, he thought, his fear rising as he tiptoed toward the door. With trembling hands, Etienne opened it, the floor creaking under his weight as he crept down the stairs.

As he 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 moment, Etienne didn't recognize him.

"Take him instead!" Vladimir shouted from the floor. "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. 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 wide eyes 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, and more broader than others. As he turned to face Etienne, his icy blue eyes locked onto his, cold and unreadable.

The intensity of his stare made Etienne's breath catch, as if the man could see straight through him, stripping away whatever fragile defenses Etienne had left. Who is he? Why is he looking at me like that?

The tattoos snaked up to the man's neck and onto his veiny hands. His inked hand flexed slightly, muscles tense beneath the 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.

Etienne couldn't help but feel both captivated and scared, caught between admiration and fear. Why can't I look away?

As he stared down at Etienne, those icy hunter eyes bore into him, and for a moment, it felt like the entire world had shrunk down.

The cut on his lip curled slightly as if he were almost amused by the situation, or by Etienne's wide eyes looking up at him. And the fear in them that Etienne couldn't try to hide.

His gaze moved down, slowly, taking in every detail of Etienne's small frame, the way his hands trembled, the bruises on his neck that had been hidden under layers of clothing. The stuffed bunny clutched in his right hand—the only thing that remained of his innocence.

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

"So, this is the one?"