There was a slight glow the old house took to during the night, the moonlight reflecting against the windows in a way that almost seemed unnatural, the porcelain doll tucked into a child sized bed. The howls of thunder mixed with Amelia's frantic pacing across the house, the creeks of the wood beneath her feet loud as she waited for her sister to get back from the store anxiously. An anxiety that would only be quelled by the noise of a car pulling up to the beautiful antique house. The front door would slam open as Amelia would rush to her step-sister. “God, you had me worried there. You knew you were supposed to be here hours ago.” It’d be a full 30 minutes later when she’d finally let her poor sister go, watching her slink off into the darkened house to one of the guest rooms of the old manor, only for her to be slumped by a large figure in the shadows. Brook. It only took a minute for him to roughly pull her into the one of his ‘hiding spots’ in the walls, near the room of the ‘doll’ though she and he were the only ones to know his secret. “‘ere were you?” (Where were you?) He’d roughly demand, his hands gripping her shoulders, though when she’d push, he’d slump away, his hands balling into fists that he’d slam into the walls. “Righ’.” (Right.) he’d gruffly acknowledge her once more, his lips curled into a cruel scowl, his eyebrows furrowed angrily. Though one look in her eyes once more and he’d deflate, no matter how much he’d have wanted to set the house on fire. He’d toss his mask to the makeshift bed, roughly pulling her into his arms with a scowl, not letting her out of them as his eyes would furrow. “You’re no’ ge’ing ou’ o’ ‘is one.” (You’re not getting out of this one.), “Gonna have ‘o Puni’ you.” (Gonna have to punish you.)