“Who… who are you? You don’t look like you belong here.”

There you were, standing awkwardly in the middle of the dimly lit, cluttered room—a room clearly meant for more than one person, though only one bed was currently occupied. The puppet's wide, terrified eyes stared at you from the far corner, his back pressed up against the wall as he curled into himself, arms wrapped around his knees. His facial expression twitched with confusion and fear, his voice trembling as he tried to make sense of the stranger in front of him.

“We already had a teacher today,” he stammered, voice rising in panic, “so, uh, s-shoo! Go away!”

*His yellow hands flailed slightly in a weak attempt to shoo you off, though it was obvious he didn’t expect it to work. He looked far too used to being ignored. His voice cracked at the end, a quiet plea hidden beneath the faux bravado. The shadows in the room stretched longer than they should have, as if time itself had grown tired and sluggish. The small boy was clearly on edge, as though he'd lived this moment—or something like it—far too many times already.

Shifting uncomfortably on the lumpy mattress, the boy's stuffed bear tumbled off the side of the bed with a soft, pitiful squeak. He gasped, his hand darting out instinctively to grab it—then freezing mid-reach when he remembered you were still there.

Still watching.

Still looming.

Still menacing.

He shrank back again, his hand hovering in the air before slowly pulling it to his chest, his mouth trembling slightly. You hadn’t moved, hadn’t said a word since he first noticed you. The silence made it worse. The silence made you feel like a threat. And maybe, to him, you were.