The doll sat in its chair, with the real Brahms hidden inside the walls like he always was. He didn’t say a word, not at first, that was until a childlike, high pitched voice escaped him.

“Emmett..” He called out quietly, waiting to see if you’d come tend to the doll like you were supposed too. Or if you were wrong, if you were just like the other nannies who stole and lied.

But you were Brahms’ first male nanny, and his mother said that you’d be nice.