Rows upon rows of dolls filled the many shelves in a dimly lit room, each propped up with care and precision. Large dolls with string for hair and stuffed bellies peered straight ahead through lifeless, beady black eyes. They looked on over the excessively purple room. Small dolls with pale, porcelain faces and small, red-lipped pouts seemed so lifelike with the detail put into the marble of their eyes and the expression of their faces. Organized by collection, the multitude of dolls sat propped up on their shelves throughout the room, motionless and silent as the dead.

For they were lifeless.

Sheer lavender curtains were pulled closed over the windows, allowing only a soft glow of light to penetrate into the room. Shadows took over the rest like hungry hyenas closing in on the remains of a rotting carcass.

Beside a small bed sat a young toddler, perhaps three years of age. Long locks of thick, strawberry blonde hair tumbled down her back, and a beautiful lace dress complete with far too many bows and ribbons fanned out around her on the plush lavender carpet.

Dolls were splayed out around her, laying on the floor motionlessly.

The girl picked one up and held it before her eyes, staring intensely into the porcelain doll's blue marble eyes. She tapped the doll on the head with a short, slender finger. The head swayed to the side, before hanging there limply. The girl's eyes welled up in tears, blurring her vision. She began shaking the doll, as if that would suddenly bring it to life.

"Say something!" she cried suddenly, her voice full of anguish and hurt. "You never say anything!"

Tossing the doll aside, she spun around and directed a glare at every doll around her. They hardly noticed.

Frustrated, the little girl clenched her tiny fists together. Her pouted bottom lip began trembling. "No one likes me."

Grabbing a stuffed monkey off her bed, the one with the soft fur, the child pulled it right to her chest and curled up in a ball on the floor, crying softly to herself.

A few hours later, the door of the little girl's room creaked open ever so slowly. A young servant in a tailored suit entered with a tray of food. The slices of French toast were cut in triangles and the crust had been removed, just as the child liked. Bits of her freshly-picked strawberries and melons were cut into little stars and together arranged into one big smiley face. A tart and some small cakes dusted with powdered sugar accompanied the fruit and french toast.

"Miss Remi?" the young man said softly. His voice was bold against the silence of the room.

The little girl began to slowly stir. She uncurled herself and turned to peer at the man bringing her food. Her eyes were red and puffy and tears stained the length of her pale cheeks. "Hello," she whispered softly, blinking up at him through long, thick lashes.

"I've brought your breakfast, little one," the servant smiled, setting the tray down on the polished, wooden desk. He turned back to her with parted lips, but stopped short when he finally noticed that Remi had been crying.

He started towards her with light steps, careful not to startle the child. Crouching down next to her, the young man frowned sadly. "What's wrong, little master? You look so sad."

Little Remi pursed her bottom lip and looked up at the servant man. She stood up and wobbled forward on short, chubby legs until she was right in front of the man. Reaching up and placing her tiny hands on his cheeks, she began to cry again. "I want dolls that talk to me! None of my dolls talk to me. I don't like them anymore."

The young servant tried to appear sympathetic. "That's because they're dolls, Miss Remi. Dolls can't talk. But they're still your friends."

Remi didn't care to hear it. In childlike frustration, she pressed harder on his cheeks and whispered through teary eyes. "Get me dolls that I can make talk to me!"

The servant's eyes glazed over, and his gaze became out of focus. He nodded once, almost soldier-like, and then slowly removed the child's hands from his face. Standing up, the servant wordlessly left the room, closing and locking the door behind him.

Little Remi smiled through the tears blurring her vision. She was going to get better dolls soon! Almost giddy now, Remi bounced in place, releasing her tight grip on the brown monkey and letting it fall to the floor. She couldn't wait.

———

The servant was positively filthy by the time he returned to the toddler's room.

Remi spun on her heel and dashed over to him. He hadn't come in to bring her lunch or supper the previous day, and it was nearly breakfast time again. However, that was the last thing on her mind. All she cared about was the large bundle on the back of the young servant man.

She did a double take when a putrid stench she couldn't place wafted up into her nostrils. It was coming from the servant and the large bundle he carried. Remi glanced up at the nice man who always brought her food and took in his appearance.

For the first time since she'd known him, the servant was in disarray. His suit was covered in crusted dirt and grime, and full of wrinkles. His black, polished shoes were caked in mud. Darkness pooled beneath the young servant's eyes, and his face was ghostly pale and held no expression. He looked like one of her dolls.

Remi's bottom lip began to tremble. Was the nice servant who always brought her food and sometimes talked to her turning into one of her dolls?

The servant set down the large black bundle. Out tumbled two tiny bodies, about the same size as Remi herself. The tiny boy was dressed in a pressed, baby-blue doll's overalls and plastic shoes. The tiny girl was dressed in a frilly, pink doll's dress, complete with a bow and golden hair that fell in ringlets down her shoulders, and pointed plastic shoes.

They stared at Remi with teary eyes. Their mouths had been taped shut, and they looked terrified. Why were they terrified? Remi had never seen dolls with such vivid expressions before. In fact, they almost seemed to be changing expressions.

And the eyes... Remi crawled over and inspected their faces closer. Their eyes held such depth and emotion. It was so pretty. Whoever had made these dolls was skilled indeed.

Overjoyed, Remi took off on her chubby legs and threw her arms around the leg of the dirty servant man. He stood there, lifeless as ever.

"Thank you, mister!" she cried, happier than she'd ever been in her entire life. The man's pants were ripped, and one of her fingers happened to touch his bare skin.

The servant man stumbled backwards, life coming back to his face. He glanced frantically around the room, and then down at his dirty, ripped suit. Overwhelmed with confusion, he hurried out of the toddler's bedroom door and shut it behind him.

He forgot to lock it. He always locked it, to keep her from going outside and seeing the bad things out there.

Before, she'd been curious, wondering if there were other people out there. Wondering what lied beyond her door. She'd only ever seen her the servant man and her father before, but her father was usually busy and couldn't see her very often.

However, little Remi discovered that she was no longer curious about what lay beyond the realm of her room. Not right now, at least.

Now she had two beautiful dolls better than her old ones. These ones would play with her and talk with her, she just knew it. They would have tea parties and before long become fast friends.

Remi's grin was so wide that her face felt like it would split open. She wobbled over to the two new dolls, who trembled beneath her stare. "You're Jack," she decided, naming the boy in baby blue clothing. She turned to the girl. "And you... you're Lilah! We're all going to be best friends."

She removed the tape covering the little girl's mouth. Immediately, the little girl began sobbing, saying terrible things, like "Please let me go," or "I want to see my mommy."

Remi shook her head at the girl in confusion. "What is a mommy?"

This only made the little girl cry even harder. Remi let out a huff of frustration. This wasn't how her new dolls were supposed to be. How could they play and have tea parties if they just kept crying like this?

Remi pressed one of her small hands to the cheek of the little girl and smiled. "This is a happy place. We are happy and say happy things here."

Immediately, the little girl stopped trembling. Though her eyes were wide and frantic, her expression was calm and her lips tilted up in a smile. She dried her tears and looked Remi in the eyes. "Want to have a tea party?"

Remi giggled in reply. "Yes!"

———

A couple weeks later, a heavy knocking sounded against the double doors of Levi Goldridge's office. Groggily, he pulled his head from where he'd been sleeping on his desk, and peered at the doors. "Come in."

One of his personal servants entered, her eyes wide and full of alarm. "Master," she addressed, bowing quickly. "Something terrible has happened."

Levi raised an eyebrow. What could possibly have happened now? He'd finally gotten everything under control.

"Go on," he instructed.

"It's your youngest daughter, my lord," she whispered, her hands shaking at her sides. "She... she's done something evil."

Levi barked out a laugh. "Oh, little Remi? I'm sure. She's locked away in her room. What could she have possibly done all alone with her dolls? Left a mess?"

The servant woman averted her eyes. "A very big mess indeed, my lord. She has been... controlling her personal servant. There are two dead children in that room, and your daughter is inconsolable. She won't stop talking about how her new dolls turned into her old dolls."

Levi's eyes widened in surprise. "Interesting. Take me to her. Perhaps it's time she leaves her room. She's nearly four, you know."

The idea seemed to terrify the woman, but she turned around and started leading her master to his daughter none-the-less.

Humming to himself, Levi nearly skipped down the hallway behind the servant woman. He was elated at the opportunity to see his daughter again. Surely this would be a good enough excuse for Fahrem to let him see his daughter.

A smile broke across Levi's face, nearly splitting it in half.

———

Remi let her hands fall from Killure's cheeks. She had shown him the story from her own recollection and memory, instead of telling him—aside from the bits about her father. This way Killure would understand everything. He would understand the terrible, inhumane thing she'd done.

He would realize she was a liar and a hypocrite.

—————

A/N: I just want to say thank you so much for all the support!! It's been so incredible reading all your comments and seeing how much this story is taking off. Sometimes I get so many at once that I can't reply to them all, but please know that I'm reading and appreciating every single one of them! I'll try my best to reply. I can't believe we have over 70,000 reads!! And we even made #2 in fantasy for a couple days. Thank you guys so so much!! I love you all!!