Calm down, Ellie, she tells herself. There is no need to panic. Just because some nanny lost it out here in the country and went off the deep end is no reason for her to jump off the deep end too. Brahms is not real. He's just a toy. Creepy toy, but a toy nonetheless.

Then where was he?

Ellie turned and went back out into the hallway, her eyes casting up and down the corridor. It was dim, only a shallow light from the partially opened upstairs bathroom gave any solace to her. Her ears strained for any hint of sound. Nothing but the rapid beating of her own heart.

As much as she wanted to believe this was all just some kind of joke, that some of the staff had remained to prank her, the words in that journal echoed in her head. Elizabeth had been terrified of Brahms. The emotions behind her words were impossible to shake.

What did Brahms do to Elizabeth? Why would his parents leave Ellie alone with him if he'd hurt his last nanny?

Get a grip, she told herself forcefully. You're starting to talk like he's real and not a doll. But what if it's true? She swept the hallway once more and then ran into her room, locking the door. One of the rules had been to make sure to lock her door at night. Was the reason because Brahms prowled the halls at night? Did he try to hurt people? Was that why there was no overnight staff? They'd told her no one was here because of the storm, but what if it had to do with Brahms? What if they refused to stay in a house with an evil possessed little doll?

She would just stay here in her room until the storm passed and the staff started to trickle back in tomorrow. It was easy enough. The door was locked and she was safe here.

But where was Brahms?

He could have easily snuck in here while she was looking for him next door. What if she went to sleep and he came out of some little hidden hole and killed her while she slept? She did a quick search of her rooms and found no sign of him, but she was still restless. Her thoughts kept running back to Elizabeth's diary and that damn list of rules. A rule she had broken. She didn't feed him.

Ellie went to her bedroom door and put her ear to it, listening, trying to figure out if he was out there or not. She kept thinking about the rule she'd broken. The urge to go see if he was in the kitchen overwhelmed her. Ellie believed she was safe in her room, she couldn't shake the urge to go check the kitchen.

Maybe if she went and saw everything was okay then she'd be able to convince herself this was all some kind of delusion. Dolls were dolls. They didn't come to life like Frosty the Snowman.

The door made a creaking sound when she opened it and Ellie cringed. She held still, listening. Again, only silence met her ears. Her back against the wall, Ellie started to slide down the hall. She was halfway down when she heard a soft laugh echo around her. It was a child's laugh, a little boy. She froze.

It wasn't possible. No matter how much she tried to tell herself that, the laughter mocked her. It defied logic. The doll was laughing. He must have been close if she could hear it up here. She needed to get downstairs. To the phone. Her cell had no reception, but she remembered seeing a landline in the library when she'd spoken to the parents earlier. If the lines were still working, she could call for help.

Her fingers found the light switch for the upstairs and she fumbled in her haste to turn it on, but once she managed, the hallway lit up. Relief swept through her. Being in the dark made this seem that much worse, but having a little light gave her a sense of hope.

She reached the top of the stairs and stared down into the darkened first floor. Her feet did not want to obey and walk down the stairs. Her body shied away from it, like it knew going down there was the wrong decision, but she needed to get to a phone. Three steps down and she paused, a chill dancing up her spine at the sound of tiny feet running along the ancient wooden floorboards of the house. He was down there. Her desire to check the kitchen had morphed into her need to find a phone. She needed help and that phone was the only option right now. She had to pass the kitchen on her way to the library, so she'd still check it. She still had a perverse desire to check on the one place where she'd broken a rule.

At the bottom of the stairs, she inched her way to the wall opposite her. Shadows leapt out at her as she moved, the antique furniture almost menacing in the soft glow from the upstairs light. She sighed when she finally managed to turn on the downstairs light. She looked the bottom hallway over and saw no sign of Brahms. It didn't mean he wasn't there, hiding somewhere. It just meant she couldn't see him. Ellie knew he was here, watching. She could feel his eyes on her.

Turning to the left, she walked slowly towards the kitchen. The house was old. Ellie suspected it hadn't been remodeled since the early fifties. There was no open concept as was popular these days. The kitchen was in a room all its own at the back of the house.

Footsteps sounded ahead of her, and Ellie slowed down, her heart in her throat. He was in the kitchen. Her gut screamed this truth. A loud clatter startled her and she jumped back. What was he doing in there? It sounded as if something hit the floor. Visions of flying knives danced in her head, but she pushed on. The belief that this was all just some kind of nightmare held steady in her. It was a doll. It couldn't be real.

When the kitchen came into sight, she stopped. There was no door on the kitchen, only an arched entry. There was a soft glow of light coming from the kitchen. It beckoned her, but she didn't want to go in there. She knew she had to, but it became harder and harder for her to shuffle her feet forward. What was she going to find in there?

The kitchen looked like something right out of the forties. The appliances were old, but well maintained. The black and white tile of the floor had more of a fifties feel, but the rest was definitely older. In other circumstances, Ellie would have been drooling over this kitchen as well maintained as it was, but instead, her eyes were drawn to the mess on the floor.

Food containers were rolling along, their contents spilled out across the tile. Her eyes found the fridge, the door to the freezer and the fridge open, casting an eerie light on the mess on the floor. Vegetables and spilled milk mixed with Brahms meals – clearly marked with the day of the week and which meal it was. The one she was staring at was for tonight's dinner.

A lonely red crayon rolled across the floor and bumped into her foot. Ellie traced its path to where it had rolled from. A piece of paper was lying on the floor. She walked over and bent to pick it up. A scream lodged in her throat as she read the note written in red crayon.

You broke the rules! You forgot to feed me! Now you will be punished.