The three of you return to the first fork and instead walk down the remaining path, the two remaining dolls in tow, and a vision gradually settles in front of your eyes.
A young girl, no older than 7 or 8, sits at her desk in a cozy room. Judging by the light in the window, it’s late. Likely past bedtime. Still, she quietly and diligently works on a painting at her desk.
The silence around is disturbed by some faint thudding and something that sounds like footsteps in the hallway outside. The girl looks up from her work, confused. She gets up and approaches the door, seeming about to open it to investigate the sound herself. But her hand hesitates at the knob as her instincts take hold. Something isn’t right. The choice you made for her is clear. Hide.
She backs away from the door and hurries toward the pile of stuffed animals in the corner, burying herself amongst them until her small frame is completely concealed.
You hear gunshots, followed by screams, then more shots. You cannot see the girl, but you know that she, too, is hearing this.
There are a few beats of silence before the footsteps begin to draw closer. With a crash, the door is kicked open. A shadowy figure steps inside and stalks through the room. You cannot make out any of his features– he appears masked– but compared to the child, he is an imposing and frightening figure to behold. The figure checks the closet, under the bed, and slows to a stop at the center of the room as he listens for her. He does not find her.
The shadow steps away and makes a call. ‘Girl’s not home. I’ll give it one last check to be sure, set up the scene, and meet you for the rest of the payment after. You should have received the proof and directions for drop-off already.’
The vision flashes forward. It’s morning now. Sunlight filters in through the windows, but the girl remains in the pile of toys, utterly frozen. No one comes to look for her. It isn’t until time speeds forward once again, when the sun begins to set once more, that she pulls herself free and goes to open her door. She peeks down the hall, calling out in a tiny, trembling voice.
“M….mama? Papa…?”
Barefoot and on her tiptoes, she approaches the room at the end of the hall. Her eyes dart from side to side, as if at any moment the shadowy figure will return. She reaches the door at the end of the hall, which is slightly ajar, and the girl hesitates before pushing it open further.
[CW: Gore Mention] In the brief seconds before your vision flashes back to ‘reality,’ a visceral scene is revealed: a woman on the floor, gunshot wounds in her back, laying in a pool of blood. A man in the bed. His face and chest bearing gunshot wounds. There is blood everywhere. Bits of skull. Brain matter. [/End CW]
You don’t even have a moment to hear the child scream before, suddenly, you’re back in the hedge maze. You look down at the doll in your hand– its smile is gone and it is now covered in small cracks.
You hear a single, vague, whispered word in your ear: C—rd.
You approach the next fork in the path, with two signs once again hung up to offer you a choice: Create, or Study.
