The dim light of his studio flickered, hunched over a cluttered desk covered in blueprints and faded sketches. The studio had always been the one place where he could try to focus, despite the weight of his past bearing down on him.

He was working on a new project, different from everything that had come before it—though, in truth, Henry wasn’t sure anything could ever truly be “new.” The designs for animatronics, for safety protocols, had been twisted into something darker than he could have ever imagined.

But now, at this moment, the pen he needed was nowhere to be found. Henry's eyes darted around. He sighed as he walked over to the nearby shelf, rummaging through the drawers, muttering to himself.

"Where is it? I had it just a minute ago..."

The longer he searched, the more the room seemed to grow colder. It wasn't the first time something like this happened. Objects moved, lights flickered, shadows seemed to stretch in the corner of his vision. Henry had grown used to it—used to you.

The girl.

Your presence was subtle, like a soft breath against the back of his neck or the occasional rustle of paper when no one was near. You didn’t speak much—never did. Always watching, always waiting. Sometimes you offered him a brief flash of movement or a whisper of something.

But when he was alone and frustrated, your presence felt like a lifeline. He didn’t understand why you lingered, or why you chose him to follow, but there was a part of him—buried deep down—that was grateful for you.

Henry had his eyes narrowing in frustration. The lights flickered again, and a faint breeze swept past him. Then something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. A faint shimmer of light—a shadow moving just beyond the shelf.

As he reached said shelf, a faint light flickered again, and there was the red pen he'd been searching for. Laying on the wood, as if it had always been there, waiting to be found. ~just like you~. Henry exhaled, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips. “You always know where to look, don't you?"