58.
cw kidnapping, assault
muffled talking, footsteps on dry grass, cracking twigs and crunching leaves. a door creaking.
“ahh there it is, my little prize. you were a tricky toy to nab, but you know i live for the chase. do you have a name? do Dolls have names? ... well?”
a thud. pain. a buried scream. then... a soft chuckle and the sound of an open palm slap, but... no pain?
“ah. silly me, i completely forgot.”
white. everything is white. white light, white noise, white... skin. this one's skin. cold, white, porcelain.
but there's a taste... cloth? blood?
“don't move.”
shapes are starting to coalesce into shadowy forms as this one's eyes adjust to the sudden crashing flood of light rushing in. it's... someone.
a sharp pain as something is yanked free from the Doll's mouth
“there. now answer: do Dolls have names?”
”...”
a thud, a no longer gagged scream, and pain.
“th-they do! we do...”
... that's an unpleasant laugh.
“and do you have a name?”
“this one...”
“speak.”
“this one does, but it doesn't know what it is.”