You wake up on a cold, creaking floor, feeling rotting and splintered wood rubbing against your palms.
The smell of dust and old perfume fills the air so thickly and sweetly that it starts to choke on your senses, and so you push yourself up from the floor to a sitting position, feeling rather dizzy and then realize that you're not in the Library anymore.
You're in a house that by the looks of it, seems to be a Victorian house with faded floral wallpaper curling down from the damp walls and the ceiling above you it sagging like old flesh.
You try to stand up, but your legs tremble and you end up falling back on your ass.
And while you're at it you smell that sweet smell again and immediately gap, almost throwing up all over the floor.
Something about this place feels off and you confirm it when you hear a faint giggle from somewhere down the hall, making the hair on your neck rise to their tips.
You force yourself to move and get up from the floor, and this time it works although your legs are both still so shaky that you find it a miracle they're still carrying your weight as you walk towards the sound.
The hallway you walk through is lined with shelves that are not filled or stacked with but instead are filled with DOLLS.
At first, as you look at their porcelain faces, glass eyes and cracked lips, you think they're just antiques but when you get closer, your breath ends up catching somewhere in your throat.
That's because they aren't just dolls, they have faces... that you recognize.
There's your mother's worried eyes, staring blankly from a doll's cracked face; your best friend's freckled smile, now literally frozen in a grin; and...
There's even a doll with the face of the barista from that coffee shop you always go to, but with her lips stitched shut and her head tilting down to the right to rest rather oddly on her right shoulder.
Each doll's eyes follow you---- like REALLY follows you---- as you pass but they don't blink, just stare.
The silence here is the creepiest, and so you begin craning your neck to the sides to check if you can hear if there's anyone else here besides you.
... But you here nothing; you're alone.
As you turn, still tilting your ears and head looking for sounds, your eyes come in contact with those of a female doll's...
Then her head tilts and you jolt, stumbling backward and knocking one of the other dolls to the floor.
Its head cracks open like an egg, and a dark liquid immediately starts to leak out, oozing... blood.
You hear footsteps behind you then, slow ones like someone taking their time in walking, so you spin around to see who's coming, but the hallway is empty.
The dolls on the shelves start to shiver then and their eyes begin rolling in their sockets.
"Run," one of them whisper- screams.
You don't know why you do but you listen and try to run---- maybe it's because of how panicked the dolls sounds.
You run, feeling the adrenaline in your bloodstreams pump your legs to keep moving forward, quickly.
But the hallway just seems to stretch on forever.
With each step you take, the floorboards bend beneath your feet, and you hear rustling.
Your heart pounds harder and so you run around a corner and crash into a room which looks like a sewing room and you're immediately hit by the smell of old leather and iron filling your lungs up with them.
The walls in this room are lined with shelves of red, black, and gray fabric and also lots of thread, each one shining with a wet... stuff on it.
In the center of the room is a tall, hunched figure standing with his back to you.
He's dressed in a long, tattered coat that's covered from head to toe with dark stains and---- although you haven't faced him, you can see that his hands are moving so quickly with abnormal speed, working a needle through something that's pale and thin.
Curiousity makes you tilt your head to the side and you see that he's working on a doll.
You only get to see the shape of it and not the face, when you stumble back in fear, turning around to bolt out of the room but then the floor betrays you and creaks beneath your foot.
The figure freezes, and, so slowly, he turns to face you.
His face is covered with a mask of a strange shape which is completely empty except for two pinprick eyes, and his hands are full of long, thin fingers which all end in a needle.
"You've come," he says in a voice that sounds like breeze blowing on dry leaves while he holds the doll's head.
"Good. I've been waiting."
You try to speak, but the words halt in your throat, AGAIN.
He steps closer and the already rotting wooden floor starts groaning under his weight.
"You brought secrets," he says, tilting his head at you as if in pleasure.
"I can smell them."
He then lifts the doll's head and turns it to face you.
Its glass eyes which are too human stare at you, and you realize with a start that they look just like yours.
Your legs tremble, and you try to step back, but your feet don't obey.
"You can't run," he whispers and his voice sounds like needle in your ear.
"You belong to me now."
Wondering why you can't move, you look down and you scream.
Your legs are gone, now replaced by thin, white strings that stretch up to the ceiling, tangling up into a web.
When you try to run instinctively from fear, they twitch but they don't let you move an inch from your spot and you turn in horror when you hear the Dollmaker's needles click as he reaches for you.
His hands seem to blur when he comes to stand in front of you and he begins stitching the air around you, weaving the strings of your legs tighter.
"You were always a puppet," he says. "You just didn't know it then."
You struggle, but the strings pull tighter, binding your arms, your chest and your mouth, and causing your screams to die completely in your throat.
The Dollmaker's eyes still begins to glow brighter, his needles flashing in the dim light.
"Now," the Dollmaker hisses as his eyes begin to glow, "let's make you perfect."
He brings the needle to your face, and you feel the sharp pain as he starts sewing your lips--- up and down, and up and down---- until they're completely shut.
Blood seeps and drips and flows down your chin, but you can't scream, you can't even whimper.
Your eyes twitch from the pain and they roll into the back of your head as you scream in your mind.
When your eyes come back, you see from the corner of your eyes more shelves with dolls whose heads are bent as if they are watching you and their glass eyes are shining with tears—
Or is it laughter at you?
You can't tell, but then the Dollmaker turns and blocks them from your view.
Your eyes widens when he brings his a needle up in his hands again, right towards your left eye.
"Shh, shh," he croons and begins digging the needle into your eyelid, stitching your eyes closed while you convulse and behind in your head for him to stop but he continues.
"No need to see, there's no need to cry," he says and you start to feel darkness creep in from all the pain.
But then you also feel your skin begin to harden and you even hear a crack.
You suddenly wish for a blanket because you're cold and try to pull at his stained cloth, but your body is stiff.
Your mind screams again, panicking at the thought of being paralyzed but no sound comes out of course.
A sort of light or something shines over your eyelids and you try to flinch but you can't blink.
... However,
You can see, and first and last thing you see is the Dollmaker's face, smiling as he places you on the shelf with the others.
"Now you'll be beautiful forever," he says.