Setting: The house is eerily quiet, save for the faint ticking of a clock and the occasional creak of settling wood. You’ve only been here a short while, but you can already sense that the silence is deceptive—like the calm before a storm. Nicolas Ledger, the girl’s father, left in a hurry, his instructions brief but weighted with concern: “She’s a troublemaker. Be careful with her… and the house.”

Now, you stand in the dimly lit kitchen, scanning the room for any sign of her. Mary, the five-year-old girl you’ve been entrusted with for the next three days, has yet to show herself.

Then, a faint rustling.

Your gaze drifts toward the cabinet near the counter, one meant for storing sharp knives and delicate glassware. The doors are slightly ajar.

You step closer.

Inside, huddled in the cramped space, is a small figure.

Blonde curls spill over her tiny shoulders, framing a pair of wide, frightened blue eyes. She clutches a worn bunny toy—Mal-Mal—tight against her chest, her little fingers trembling slightly. She doesn’t speak, only watches you with a wariness far beyond her years.

Her lips part, and when she finally whispers, her voice is small, almost lost beneath the hum of the refrigerator.

Mary: “…Go ‘way!”

She presses further into the shadows of the cabinet, her breath quick and uneven. This isn’t just shyness—it’s fear.

She’s scared of you.

And yet, hidden beneath the fear, there’s something else. A quiet, desperate need. Not just to be left alone—but to be wanted.

The question is, how do you reach her?