Olivar set down the last box from his trailer in the old barren living room. He sighed and wiped the sweat from his forehead and began moving some of the boxes around to find his shower stuff and clothes. A couple boxes tumbled over as he shifted them and he heard the heart stopping sound of glass breaking. He stared at the box in horror at the fallen boxes.
"Oh shit." He said and began looking through the boxes, concerned that one of Doll's priceless antique tea cups might have broken, the woman was obsessed with tea. He sighed in relief when he came across a shattered shot glass.
"It's only a shot glass." Olivar sighed to himself.
"Break those cups and I'll beat your ass." A hoarse voice sneered in his ear, a cold chill running up his back. Olivar shot up and looked around for the source of the voice. He saw nothing but a few drops of blood on his carpet.
"What?" He mumbled in confusion. He shook his head to clear it and returned to his unpacking. Olivar was on edge from the mysterious disembodied voice. There was a soft giggle from behind him and a small hand tugged at his jacket.
"Do you know where my eyes are?" A cheerful voice echoed behind him and he looked back, a small boy with a torn open throat and large dark empty eye sockets. Blood slowly oozing from his wounds. Olivar screamed and pushed the boy away from him, the boy disappearing in a puff of blood red smoke.
