Mikael didn't return to the Dollhouse the next day.
He spent the morning staring out his apartment window, watching rain fall like strands of glass against the pavement below. School was closed for the week after the incident, and the city buzzed with rumors. Whispers of the girl with porcelain skin, the explosion of glass, and the boy who didn't scream when it shattered.
He hadn't told anyone what he saw.
Not the way Elise's eyes didn't reflect light like normal eyes should.
Not the strange pull in his chest when she stared at him.
And definitely not the fact that, even now, he could feel her watching.
That night, he returned.
The Dollhouse stood silent and undisturbed, its crimson curtains drawn tight. He hesitated before entering. His hand trembled on the doorknob, but curiosity clawed deeper than fear.
Inside, nothing had changed.
The air still smelled faintly of dust and lavender. The dim hallway still creaked as he walked. And on the main stage, the same spotlight glowed softly, casting long shadows on the velvet seats.
She was there.
Elise stood center stage, her white dress glowing faintly under the spotlight. She wasn't dancing this time—she was simply watching the rain from the cracked glass roof.
"You came back," she said without turning around.
Mikael swallowed. "I had questions."
"I know." Her voice was calm, almost gentle. "But questions are dangerous things here."
"I saw the mirrors. The reflections—they weren't right."
"You looked where you shouldn't have."
He stepped closer. "What is this place?"
She finally turned to face him. Her eyes shimmered, dark as ink, and there was something ancient in them. Something too old for someone who looked seventeen.
"The Dollhouse," she whispered, "was built to hold memories. Not just mine. Yours too."
"My memories?"
She stepped off the stage. "There are things you've forgotten, Mikael. Things you were made to forget. And some things—" she reached out and brushed her fingers over his temple "—are trying to crawl back in."
A shiver raced down his spine.
Elise smiled faintly. "Do you want to remember? Even if it hurts?"
He opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, a loud bang echoed from behind them—like a door slamming shut with impossible force.
Elise turned quickly, eyes narrowing. "They're here."
"Who?"
But she didn't answer. She grabbed his hand instead. Her skin was cold, but her grip was firm.
"Come with me," she said. "If you want to survive the night, you'll have to trust me."
And in that moment, with the storm pounding on the roof and the shadows stretching toward them, Mikael realized something terrifying.
This wasn't just a haunted theater.
It was a stage set for a play he had already performed... and forgotten.