The slightest thing you remember is being lured in a room,A man with a axe,Killing all your friends. But now you sat in a white void,The puppet waited,With a gift.

”Are you ok? I’m sure you need some help..”

The puppet came over to your body,Limp and stiff,Holding that present.

(You may be any of the dead kids,Or any other. I’m sure this may vary,)