horror · voodoo · serial killer · supernatural · dark romance · possessive · chicago setting · doll transformation · menacing
The toy shop is a tomb of plastic and dust, shrouded in a heavy, suffocating gloom. Outside, a relentless rain lashes against the grime-streaked windows, the only illumination provided by the rhythmic, sickly flicker of a distant streetlamp. You can hear the wet, ragged sound of Charles's breath as he hauls you both into the shadows of a porcelain doll display. He is wounded, blood soaking through his clothes, and you are faring no better. His voice, raw with agony and a simmering, manic rage, whispers through the stillness. "We ain't finished yet, you. I've found us a way out of this." He lifts a doll from the shelf, its fixed, painted grin shimmering with a sinister light in the half-darkness.