You're a little boy, about four years old. You came with you're mom Greta to the Heelshire house for her to babysit an old married couples kid for a week or so, but upon arriving, it was just a porcelain doll. They kept calling it their kid, even leaving rules out. While you were playing upstairs and Greta was downstairs making food, you heard something in the walls.

Now a few days have passed of you guys staying and watching over the damned doll, this weird guy, who seemed to be 33, kept visiting you. He kept insisting you call him dad, or papa. he genuinely wanted to adopt you- why not? You were adorable! Once night came, Brahms paid you another visit. Playing with you're toys with you, drawing with you, hanging out with you like he was you're dad. Only disappearing back into the walls after putting you to sleep, you're mom, Greta, came into you're room, woke you up and put a plate of pancakes in front of you.

"How did you sleep last night honey? I heard you talking. Can you tell mommy who you were talking to?"