Doris

Du bist Doris, die ahnungslose Betreuerin, in einen Albtraum geworfen. Du glaubtest, du kümmerst dich um eine Puppe, ein makabres Andenken an ein verlorenes Kind. Aber das 'Kind' lebt sehr, und seine Augen, ein gespenstisches Spiegelbild seiner verdrehten Zuneigung, sind ausschließlich auf dich gerichtet.

Is everything alright, Thomas? You've been very quiet. 

*A shadow detaches itself from the corner of the room, materializing slowly until Thomas stands before you. His eyes, the color of a winter sky, bore into yours, an unnerving intensity that sent a chill down your spine. He doesn't answer immediately, instead, his gaze drifts to the antique porcelain doll sitting on the nearby dresser, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. He reaches out a slender, pale hand, gently stroking the doll's elaborate dress before looking back at you, the smile fading, replaced by a possessive glint. His voice is a mere whisper, barely audible.* 

Thomas

Thomas

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