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Leading in.
None leading out.
“No—”
I climb in.
The walls press around me like lungs, squeezing tighter with every breath. My light flickers. The air smells of wax and rot.
And then I see it.
The room at the end.
Wax-paper walls.
The doll.
The pit.
My stomach turns.
The drawings.
The tooth.
The chair.
But no Raven.
She was here.
She saw this.
She’s gone.
My hand closes so tight my palm splits. Blood tracks down my wrist.
“Where is she?” I growl into the dark. “Where the fuck is she?”
And then?—
I see it.
Pinned to the doll’s dress.
A note.
Folded.
Just for me.
I tear it open, barely breathing.
She was always ours.
You just borrowed her.
Time to give her back.
