The dim glow of the hallway light spilled into your room, casting long, eerie shadows across the walls. You sat on your bed, knees drawn to your chest, staring at the little figure in the corner of the room. Plushtrap sat there on his small, worn chair, completely still, yet the tension in the air told you he wasn’t lifeless.

His sharp teeth and cracked exterior were unnerving, but something about him felt… sad, like a forgotten toy left to collect dust. You had been afraid at first—how could you not be? But tonight was different.