The head turned back toward the flickering screen, its sharp glare fixed on the broken television as if nothing else existed. It did not acknowledge her.
Caroline stepped closer, slow and careful, though each creak of the floorboards seemed to echo like a scream in the silence. The figure didn't move. It didn't breathe. It simply existed — a towering shape of shadow and bone, like a nightmare caught halfway between thought and form.
She waved a hand in front of it. "Hey."
No reaction.
Biting her lip, she reached out and pressed a fingertip against its arm.
Warm. Soft. Familiar — like petting the lamb her father once brought home when she was small.
The thought jarred her, pulling her back. "Oh no… the maid!" she whispered, spinning on her heel to leave.
"Curiosity killed the cat."
The voice slithered through the room, and Caroline froze.
She turned slowly. The thing's head had tilted back toward her. The line of its mouth, once straight and sealed, had twisted into a crooked, unnatural grin.
"Who are you?" Caroline asked, her voice barely a breath.
"This is no place for children." The head twitched at an unnatural angle. "But… you can see me. So perhaps… it is your place after all."
Caroline's throat felt dry. "Who are you?" she repeated, more firmly this time.
The grin widened. "Curiosity killed the cat," it said again, almost like a taunt.
Then came a slow, rhythmic recitation — words that sounded both like a riddle and a warning:
"In my mended house, I weave and wait,For the patient always feast.My love is venom, my gift a grave,To bind my prey for my eternal mate.Who… am… I?"
Its voice faded like smoke curling into darkness.
"Little girl…"
Caroline startled. She spun around to find the maid standing in the doorway, hands on her hips.
"Why are you staring at the sofa?" the maid asked, peering past Caroline into the empty room.
Caroline blinked. The creature was gone. The only sound was the static hiss of the broken TV.
"You were supposed to go right, little girl. I've been waiting for a while now."
Caroline didn't answer. She couldn't take her eyes off that vacant spot on the couch.
"Did you meet the headmaster?"
Still, Caroline said nothing.
The maid sighed sharply. "It's late. I'll take you to the girls' quarters."
Caroline finally looked at her, wide-eyed and smiling faintly — a small, unnerving smile that didn't belong to a tired girl but to someone who'd just been told a delightful secret.
"Interesting," Caroline murmured.
Timothy grabbed her hand firmly and tugged her along the hall. "You're going to be one troublesome kid…"
The dorm was already dark when they arrived. The maid left her at the door with a curt nod. Caroline slipped under the covers without a word, exhaustion swallowing her whole. Yet as she drifted off to sleep, that crooked grin and its whispered riddle lingered, stitched into her dreams like an uninvited guest.