[color=gray] [table] [row][sub][h1][center][img][/img][/center][center][color=2c2e2e]____________[/color][/center][/h1][/sub][/row][row][/row][row][cell] [center] [img] https://i.imgur.com/gssGKuw.jpg[/img][/center] [/cell][cell] [h1][/h1] [sub][h1][color=black][sub][i]𝔏𝔦𝔩𝔶𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢[/i][/sub][/color][/h1][/sub][sup][h1][color=bca346][sup][i] 𝔏𝔦𝔩𝔶𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢[/i][/sup][/color][/h1][/sup][sup][color=black]_____________________________[/color][/sup] [color=bca346]𝔏𝔬𝔠𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫:[/color] [color=black][sub]THE DOLLHOUSE —> GUTTERS END[/sub][/color] [color=bca346]𝔗𝔦𝔪𝔢:[/color] [color=black][sub]DUSK[/sub][/color] [color=bca346]ℑ𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰:[/color] [color=black][sub]DREDA ([@enmuni])[/sub][/color] [color=bca346]𝔐𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰:[/color] [color=black][sub]DREDA ([@enmuni])[/sub][/color] [/cell][/row][/table][indent][indent][h3][/h3] [b][color=pink]Wake up.[/color][/b] It sang to her—faint, like a shadow slipping under the door. A lullaby she had once forgotten. Or maybe it had forgotten her. It pulled. Pulled her from a dream. Another one of those dreams. The kind that made her remember. The kind that made her forget. Her eyelids twitched. Then fluttered. Then lifted. A smile flickered, stitched between sleep and silence. Her hair hung in wet ropes around her cheeks, damp with sweat or dew or something else. Her skin glistened—clammy and not quite alive. She had been curled into herself, breathing like she was still human. Like she still needed to. Her chest rose. Fell. Again. Had she been dreaming? What happened? A pause. It didn’t matter. It was here. [b][color=pink]Did you sleep well?[/color][/b] The voice asked, thick and warm and full of teeth. Her heart pounded. No, not her heart. Something else. Something deeper. It wanted. It needed. The slumber slid off her eyes like a veil. Her pupils sharpened like black moons gleaming. Her breath caught. Her tongue pressed against the roof of her mouth. Dry. Expectant. Wanting. Needing. She moved. Bodies surrounded her. Twisted and crumpled. Playthings. Leftovers. Their limbs were bent wrong. Their mouths were still open, they were screaming things she couldn’t hear. Cold. Gray. Pale. And dry. Too dry. She'd played too long. She’d let them waste. Her body unfolded slowly, like a marionette recalling its strings. Palms to the floor. Her hair trailed behind like wet lace. Carefully, she crawled. Arms trembling. Not from weakness. From hunger. Slowly, she stood with legs shaking from more than sleep. Her dress clung in damp patches, white lace drooping like wilted petals. The bodies didn’t look at her, but she felt watched. And, they wouldn’t stop screaming. Her hands slid over her ears. She had to be good now. Be normal. Be a girl again. A good girl. She trembled with every step. Eyes piercing. She reached for the vanity in the corner of the room. Its wood was warped. Its silver-gilt surface was dull with age. With trembling hands, she found a hairbrush. It was a small, cracked thing with bristles stiff with time. She ran it through her tangled hair, carefully, gently. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. [color=white]“I’m fine,”[/color] she murmured.[color=white] “I’m alright. I’m not… hungry. I’m—”[/color] A broken hum mumbled from her lips. Then broke. Cracked. Suddenly, the bristles snagged on a knot. Hard. Her head jerked. Her shoulder flinched. The brush jerked from her hand, and she snarled. The mirror caught her eye. Shattered down the middle. Not enough to miss the face. Her. But wrong. One eye too wide. One smile too soft. Too knowing. Her hair. Why was it [i]that[/i] color? [color=white]“S-stop looking at me.”[/color] The words came out too fast. Too sharp. She stepped closer, but her reflection remained calm, unflinching. [color=white]“I said stop it!”[/color] She hissed. A pause. A breath. A flicker of motion behind her. Wait, no, no, inside her. It was all inside her. Why was she smiling at her? Lily lifted her hand, and slammed into the mirror. Glass bit. Sharp and sweet. Blood bloomed between her knuckles like ink in milk. She stared at her reflection now, fractured into pieces. In one shard, her eyes were weeping. In another, her mouth was open and smiling. [b][color=pink]You don’t even know which one is you anymore,[/color][/b] the voice murmured. She pressed her bloody palm to the broken glass. It stung. [b][color=pink]You wanted to be good,[/color][/b] it crooned. [b][color=pink]But now you’re leaking again.[/color][/b] She laughed. It was a tiny and broken sound. [b][color=pink]Just a little bit. Just enough to let the you breathe.[/color][/b] Behind her teeth, something shifted. Her gums throbbed. Her breath hitched. And then, the scent. Somewhere outside. A heartbeat. Warm. Slow. Human. Her fangs ached. Her mouth watered. The pain in her hand blurred. The shards of herself whispered. And Lily smiled. A real smile. [color=white]“I’ll be gentle this time,”[/color] she said. Her smile widened. The door creaked when she opened it, the sound like a breath caught in a throat. Lily paused in the threshold, fingers brushing the edge of the frame. Outside, the night stretched wide and waiting. It curled its fingers, beckoning her to come and play. A bruise-colored sky stood over her. She looked upwards, breathing in the death of air. Lamplight flickered like frightened eyes, and she shivered. The air smelled like wet stone and something else—something living. She stepped barefoot into the cold. Her dress — torn now, dragged along the ground, soaked at the hem with something she didn’t name. One step. Another. And then another. The gravel bit at her soles. It nibbled. It murmured. It gossiped alongside the whispering wind whispered. Curling around her skin like someone remembering how to touch. She looked up at the moon. Lamplights flickering. [color=white]“Don’t look,”[/color] she whispered, childishly. But the moon always did. Her fingers curled around the edges of her torn dress. She tugged at it like a blanket. Gently pulling it upwards, tugging it downwards. She walked. Lightly. On her toes. Past the gate. Past the iron fence with its rusted mouths. Past the shoes someone left behind, pointing in opposite directions. The buildings nearby were quiet. Lights soft and golden. Or maybe they were dim and foggy. Her stomach clenched. She pressed a hand to it. It needed. It wanted. Ravenous. Gluttonous. [color=white]“You can wait,”[/color] she told it. Her mouth said it. But her teeth did not agree. Neither did her stomach. A building light flickered. Inside - laughter. Or was it laughter? She followed the sound. The mumbling of the gravel. The humming of the streetlights. Each step brought her closer. The gnawing in her stomach. The growling in her head. Louder. Louder. She was chasing the thoughts in her head. Somewhat in a strange daze. Unaware. Unalive. Walking. Fighting. Stumbling. She heard voices. Hands over ears as she stumbled. Shadows cloaked her. Concealed her. But not the voices. Not the thoughts. Racing. All against the ticking clock. Tick. Tick. Make them stop. Tick. Something. Someone. Warehouse after warehouse. Emptiness. Commotion. Words. Whispers. Voices. All telling her where to go. Tick. And suddenly, they did. They stopped. They stopped because of [i]her[/i]. [i]She[/i] was wearing a dark raincoat. Her hair was almost equally dark, and she almost blended into the background. The sound of her tennis shoes against the pavement were soft, light. And [i]her[/i] skin. It was delicate and pale. Even under the bruised skyline and curling shadows, Lily could see the glimmer. She moved like a thread pulled tight—silent, graceful, trembling at the edges. Her bare feet barely touched the ground. The wind carried her forward, or maybe it fled from her… She wanted to taste her. Wanted to ruin something that looked like her. The monster inside bloomed like nightshade. One step. Then two. Then three. And then, she was running, ragged lace snapping behind her, mouth open, breath shaking with something sharp. A growl trembled up her throat, not loud, not bestial. Something more awful. Almost like crying. And then, she leapt. Hands first, like a child reaching for comfort, or a wolf lunging for the soft part of the throat. Her nails gleamed, curved like broken porcelain. Her lips peeled back—not in a snarl, but a smile that didn’t fit her face… She reached and grasped. [/indent][/indent][/color]