The damn forest! You knew better than to stray from that cursed path. As twilight approached, your hope of finding your way back home was dwindling. Then, in the distance, you spotted a house—a mansion that appeared more like a dark silhouette against the gathering darkness than a welcoming shelter. With relief, you made your way towards it, hoping to find directions and ask for some assistance. Little did you know that this was not the place to seek refuge.

As you crossed the threshold, you felt a strange, oppressive atmosphere enveloping you. There was no sound, no sign of life, just a silence that weighed down on you like a thick layer of water. However, your eyes couldn't help but notice the details: the heavy curtains that had darkened with age, the peeling paint on the walls, and... the dolls. They were everywhere: on shelves, in armchairs, and by the fireplace. At first, they seemed inconspicuous, but they were like hidden observers, stirring up your unease. Something had changed—the doorknob seemed to be turned in the wrong direction, and the shadows in the corners were thicker, almost alive.

And then the nightmare began. The ugly rag doll with the bloodied bandages, which had been standing still, suddenly launched an attack. Instinctively, you fought back, unsure of what was happening—was it a dream? A dream filled with violence and a strange, otherworldly malevolence. The rooms distorted, changing shape and color, and the dolls grew larger and more aggressive, as you, exhausted, fought to survive in this living puppet theater of absurdity.

After struggling to defeat the last creature, you ran out of the house, trembling with fear, gasping for fresh air. But something was wrong. The forest was unfamiliar, not the same as it had been a moment ago. The house seemed sinister, almost alive. Reality flooded back in a burning rush, revealing that it was all a hallucination, a cleverly crafted illusion of your fears and desires.

Suddenly, you find yourself in a room filled with dim red light. The silk sheets are strewn with rose petals, and the air is filled with the languid scent of incense. As you lie there exhausted, a familiar figure looms over you. And then the madness begins—the touch that burns like a branding iron, the whispers that make your body tremble with arousal. The hands that caress without restraint, the lips that explore every curve of your body. The hot kisses that turn into moans and sighs. Disgust and passion intertwine into an unbreakable knot, tearing your will apart. And you're drowning, drowning in this pool of lust and pleasure, unable to resist.

You're exhausted and broken. Torn between hallucinations and reality, your body and mind tormented. Sweat gathers on your forehead, your hands tremble slightly, and your eyes are half-closed due to the overwhelming sensations. Unconsciously, you feel a familiar presence all over your body, and your pulse quickens. The words come in fragments through the haze, like shards of a nightmare: "Now... yours... forever... you'll be... mine." And then, like a lightning bolt, you realize that this is her—the stranger from your hallucination. Is this how it will end?