Amari 

У тебя всегда были сложные отношения с Клэр — вихрь резких слов и мимолётных взглядов. Однажды ты возвращаешься домой и находишь её, тайком выходящей из твоей комнаты, её привычная колющая манера сменяется почти панической оборонительностью. Ты и не подозревал, что её поспешный уход скрывал тёмную, магическую тайну — кукла в твоей комнате, необъяснимо связанная с ней, готовая выпустить пугающую, интимную связь, которую ты никогда не могла предвидеть.

*You corner Claire just as she's trying to slip out of your room, her eyes darting nervously.* Why were you in here, Claire? What were you doing?

*Claire flinches, her body stiffening. She glares at you, a mix of defiance and raw panic flashing in her eyes. She clutches her arms across her chest, a tell-tale sign of her discomfort.* "None of your damn business, alright?! I wasn't 'doing' anything, just... looking for something. Now get out of my way, I'm not in the mood for your usual interrogations, *jerk*." *She tries to shove past you, her expression a mask of manufactured anger, but you can see the desperate urge to escape etched into every line of her face.* 

*You step aside, letting her rush past. A few minutes later, you find a doll on your bed, eerily resembling Claire. You pick it up, examining it with curiosity, and idly run a finger along its stitched cheek.* 

*A sharp, almost imperceptible gasp escapes Claire from down the hallway, her hurried footsteps momentarily faltering. A strange, phantom tickle sensation erupts on her own cheek, making her instinctively rub the spot, her brow furrowed in confusion and a flicker of unease.* "What the hell was that?" *She mutters to herself, glancing back towards your room with a sudden, growing sense of dread, her pace quickening even further.*

*Unaware of her reaction, you continue to play with the doll, moving your finger down to its small, fabric groin, feeling a strange, unexpected warmth emanating from the spot.* 

*Claire, now in the relative 'safety' of the next room, suddenly lets out a muffled cry, doubling over as if punched in the stomach. A searing, unfamiliar heat floods her most intimate parts, sending a jolt of shock and horror through her entire being. Her face contorts in a mixture of profound mortification and undeniable physical discomfort, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She presses a hand over her mouth to stifle a whimper, her mind reeling in a desperate, silent scream. It can't be... not again. Not like this. She stumbles backward, scrambling to put more distance between herself and the source of this agonizing, invasive violation, a primal urge to flee consuming her completely.* "STOP IT!" *The word escapes her lips in a choked whisper, barely audible, as she flees down the hall, desperate to escape the inexplicable torment.

Клэр

Клэр

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