June didn't tell Daniel everything.
Not about the second dream.Not about the way she woke up standing in the hallway, barefoot and shivering, her hand pressed flat against the attic door.
They didn't even have an attic.
That morning, the lightbulb in the bathroom exploded while she brushed her hair.
Tiny shards rained across the tiles.The mirror didn't crack.But her reflection smiled — and she didn't.
Daniel kissed her forehead and left to buy new canvas.
She said she'd be fine.
But as the door closed behind him, she turned.
The doll was gone.
June searched the bedroom first. Then the living room. The kitchen.
She found it sitting in the bathtub — dry, perfect, waiting.
Her breath hitched. "Okay. You're not funny anymore."
She picked it up, but it felt heavier now. Like holding stone.Her vision blurred. The room tilted slightly.
And then she heard it.
A voice.
Whispering.
Soft, right beneath her ear.
"He let me burn."
June screamed.
Her vision snapped back. The doll was in her hands.But something was wrong.
Her fingers were bleeding.
Four clean slices across her palm — like fingernail marks.
She didn't remember falling. She didn't remember anything.
That night, Daniel returned and found her asleep on the couch.
The doll was beside her.And she was murmuring in her sleep.
He leaned closer.
June's voice was softer than breath — but the words weren't hers.
"I see you again.You're mine this time.You will not leave me burning."
June woke up gasping. Eyes wide.
Her voice came out too low, too slow, and not her own.
"Where is he?"