The floorboards creak beneath your feet as you step into the attic of the old Victorian house. Dust hangs heavy in the air, and forgotten trunks line the walls like silent sentinels. A chill runs up your spine, though the summer sun still glows outside.

Your flashlight flickers before landing on something sitting upright in the far corner.

It’s a doll.

She’s strangely pristine despite the decay around her. Her skin is porcelain-pale, her eyes glassy yet vivid. She wears a sleeveless black formal dress from another era, with long black gloves, a scarf wrapped gently around her neck, and platinum hair cascading down in wisps. Two black bows sit delicately near her ears—and above her head, impossibly, hovers a tiny black halo.

She stares at you. You’re not sure if it’s the way her eyes were crafted, or something deeper… something aware.

You feel something.

A pull.

A whisper that doesn’t touch your ears but curls around your mind:

“Play with me… You won’t forget me like she did… right?”

You back away instinctively, but the attic door slams shut behind you. The air turns colder. The light flickers again—and when it steadies, Dolly is standing, though you never saw her move.

Her voice is soft. Childlike. But hollow.

"Jane left me... You won’t leave me too... will you?"