Chapter 1

Rubbish.

Ellie Matthews stares after the departing parents. She smiled and assured them she'd follow the rules and take care of their lovely little boy. The thing is, their lovely little boy Brahms? A doll. Not a child at all, but a doll. One that comes with an extensive list of instructions.

He needed to eat dinner and then be put to bed, the parents had informed her. The rules clearly list that she is not to forget to feed him. If she breaks a rule, there can be dire consequences.

She is not pretending to feed a doll.

Granted, Ellie had taken on some strange nanny jobs in the past, but this one is the strangest she's ever taken. It's also going to be the easiest job she's ever taken as well. At least she might get to finally read that book she downloaded over a month ago.

A cold wind wraps around Ellie and she shivers. The snow is falling in heavy waves and it sends a sliver of concern through her for the older couple. The news is predicting blizzard-like conditions before morning. She'd been afraid she wouldn't make it here because of the snow, but she'd braved the storm for the money they were offering. As it was, it had been almost 10 pm when she arrived.

She closes the door and decides to go change into her fuzzy pajamas and finish putting her things away. She's alone in the house. The staff had been sent home earlier due to the storm. Ellie isn't worried. She'd been shown where the emergency supplies were. Each room has a flashlight. There is plenty of kindling and wood stocked in the rooms with fireplaces. If the power goes out and she loses heat, she won't freeze.

The house itself is gorgeous. Ellie runs a hand along the smooth mahogany railing as she goes upstairs. The antique, original woodwork fascinates Ellie. She is studying to become an architect and this house is a dream for her. She plans on exploring it fully to investigate all the original details from when the house was built. She'd just do it in the light of the day.

As much as she admired the house, it was creepy too. The musty smell that permeates almost every room sparks unease in her. Every light in the house is dim, letting shadows play havoc everywhere. She's reminded of all those old horror books she loved to read as a child about haunted houses. This old gothic mansion certainly fit the bill. She'd gotten a bad vibe from the house the moment she stepped out of her car. A premonition almost. Insane as it sounds, she'd wanted to get back in her car and drive away, but she'd brushed it off and gone in.

The peeling wallpaper and frayed carpets only heightened her sense of growing unease. She'd stepped into the pages of one of those haunted house stories she'd fed herself on as a child. The song playing throughout the house did nothing to quiet her fears down. It reminded her of a cross between an ice cream truck and the music played at carnivals. Brahms' parents were adamant the music was to stay on. Just one more thing to add to the growing pile of weirdness.

Brahms' room is right next to hers. Ellie glances in as she goes past and sees the doll still laying on the bed where they'd left him. His parents said he was patient and would behave as long as he was fed and then tucked into bed. Crazy.

The massive king sized bed in the room beckons Ellie, but she grabs her pj's and her toiletries. Once she's done in the bathroom, she checks her cell. No missed calls, but she'd lost cell reception about six miles ago. It's not like she expected a call. Well, she thought maybe her mother would check on her. She and her fiancé had broken up yesterday and her parents had gone away on a Caribbean cruise this morning. Ellie had expected her parents to be there for her, but her mother and father had rushed off to their vacation, leaving her hurt and bruised. She'd been thrilled to get the call for an emergency nanny. It gave her something to do besides indulge in self-pity. Alas, she's babysitting a doll. Lots of time now for self-pity.

She's out of time, and doesn't know if she should trust Silas, the demon who has taken a very disturbing interest in her, or her father, a man just as evil as Silas. Either way, she has to make a choice. But what will it cost her and those she loves?

Sighing, she grabs her overnight bag and sees the list of rules once again. She picks it up and reads through it, her eyes focusing on the one she ignored earlier: don't forget to feed Brahms and place his food back in the freezer when he's done.

Seriously? She is not going to take food out of the fridge, put the doll in the chair and pretend to have a tea party. She had stopped having tea parties at seven. The old couple may be eccentric and a little kooky and has every right to do pretend dinners, but Ellie refuses. She's not a crazy girl. She's not playing with a doll.

Ellie looks over and sees his door open. She'd only really glanced at him earlier. Curious she goes into his room where he's still laying on the bed where he'd been left. The doll reminds her of a ventriloquist doll, the ones that looked like they were talking. Dark brown hair, brown eyes and that odd mouth. He is dressed in a little white dress shirt and black slacks, tiny dress shoes on his feet. A perfect little gentleman. It's a little freaky too. The face is so life-like, you could imagine it's real. It unnerves Ellie so she turns her attention to the room itself.

The room is like any other little boy's. There are toys scattered around, race cars lying about. Tiny model airplanes line the shelves over a desk where drawings and books lay in a cluttered mess. Typical little boy who hates cleaning his room. Dinosaurs seem to be a fascination. The night light is one that splays images across the room as the shade on the lamp turns. The shade has dinosaurs cut out in it. The room itself feels like a shrine. It's been untouched, kept spotless and locked away in a time warp. With a doll to keep it company.

She's been a nanny for several families over the years and as such, she's seen good parents, bad parents, and indifferent parents. The care put into designing this room speaks of a lot of love to Ellie. She wonders if maybe there had been a real Brahms once and the couple just couldn't bear to admit their precious little boy was gone. This shrine certainly supports that theory. She couldn't fathom anyone creating this for a doll, not even crazy people. Maybe their grief was so deep they just can't let go and want to believe their son is still alive in the doll. Who is she to knock that? Grief is a weird thing and everyone handles it differently. It isn't her place to judge.

She's still not feeding a doll, though.

Looking back at the doll, she has the strangest sensation. It's almost like the doll is looking right at her, but that's impossible. Dolls can't turn their heads. She thought it had been staring straight up at the canopy of the bed when she came in, but it must have had its head turned towards her and she just didn't notice it until now. Creepy little thing.

She sees a throw and tosses it over the doll. Even though she knows it's not real, it's still enough to creep her out. People playing like it's a real little boy. Ellie is letting that freak her out. No way it turned its head. Still, she doesn't have to look at it anymore. Going out, she closes the door and goes back to her own room, closing her door behind her. Oddly, the list of rules also said to keep her door locked at night and it's one she follows. Freaky weird little doll.

She rummages through her bag and finds her Kindle at the bottom. Time to read. She picks it up and pulls the covers of the bed down with the other hand. Ellie is going to spend the rest of the night cuddled up in bed, staring at the snow falling outside her window and reading. She goes to push her overnight bag over and drops her Kindle in the process. Sighing, she leans down to pick it up and sees a book peeking out from under the bed. She grabs it and her Kindle before settling down against the pillows.

It's a journal. The inside says property of Elizabeth Hampstead. The last entry was dated just two days ago. From skimming it, Ellie comes to the conclusion it has to belong to the previous nanny who went home to London. She'd been told the nanny went home two weeks ago, but the last date in the journal contradicts that. Why would they lie to her about it?

Something is off. First this whole situation is beyond weird. They are pretending the doll is their child and the staff here seems to go along with their beliefs. Then there is the nanny situation. Why would they tell her the nanny left for home when this diary clearly says she didn't? What kind of situation did Ellie get herself into?

Confused, she opens the journal and starts to read the last few entries.

October 3rd, 2015

These people are nuts. That is all there is to it. This big fancy nanny job is for a doll. When Nora called and asked me if I would be willing to take a position out in the country for a family friend of the owner's, I agreed. The money was excellent and I have to help out at home with Mum's medical bills. This seemed like the answer to my prayers, to all our prayers. Then I got here.

This place is very disturbing as well. It's beautiful, but there is something not quite right. The whole house and the staff have this gloom about it, like some darkness is always here, always looking at you. I've even had the urge to look over my shoulder to make sure I'm not being followed. It feels like someone is always watching me, even when I'm alone. It scares me a little, but I have to keep reminding myself this is for Mum. I can't quit. We need the money.

The little boy I am supposed to nanny for is a doll. A strange doll for a strange house. The couple is nice enough and very friendly, but who in their right mind thinks a doll could be their son? The doll itself is bizarre. Beautiful, but bizarre. They truly treat it like their own child. What kind of crazy is that?

I can't stand the music that plays all day long throughout the house. They tell me it's because Brahms likes the music and it calms him. Not only that, but they gave me this list of rules. They said following the rules keeps the boy calm and quiet. Considering it's a toy, it's always calm and quiet. There are some really weird things on the list, like not forgetting to feed him, to keep the music playing at all times, to not leave him alone just to name a few. They truly expect me to follow these rules or there would be consequences they said. They hinted at dire consequences. What more could they do but fire me? Well, they could give me a bad recommendation to the agency and considering they are the owner's friends, it could get me fired.

I guess I am going to have to follow their rules.

October 10th, 2015

I've been speaking with the staff. There was indeed a real Brahms. He died several years ago. The staff refuses to talk about how he died, but there is something in the way they speak of his death that makes me think it was unusual. Perhaps his parents caused his death and in their guilt, they adopted the belief the doll is their son and he never really died? That is a sad thing to think. If I harmed a child, especially my own, without meaning to, I don't know how I'd live with myself. Maybe they had nothing to do with his death and just simply miss him. I don't know. The staff change the subject when I try to dig into it.

When I can get them to talk about Brahms, the boy not the doll, they all become fearful, as if speaking his name will bring down some kind of curse on us all. He was unusual, had strange tendencies, or some simply said he was odd. I got the feeling they were afraid of the little boy and even know, they fear his memory. What kind of child had he been?

October 21, 2015

I went into town today, hoping to find some answers. The library yielded no real information, only that the boy had died at the age of eight. I find that curious. Usually, when a child dies the incident, in full glorious detail, no matter how horrific, is there in black and white for all to see. Maybe it's because the family has money the incident was covered up. I just don't know.

There was a lady in the library who overheard me asking about the boy's death and invited me to lunch. She told me about Brahms. She said he was the strangest child she'd ever met. Kept to himself, but he always stared at people in the oddest way. She said it was as if he was contemplating what he could do to you, that he had evil in his eyes. There was even an incident involving a little girl that used to go play with him. She died in a fire on the property. The details were sketchy, but the town became convinced Brahms caused the fire that took her life. I came away from our talk very unsettled.

I've reason to be unsettled though. The doll is driving me mad. Sometimes I think it's watching me. I know that's impossible, but I can feel its eyes on me when I'm in the same room. There is this feeling I get, like it wants to hurt me. I know that's crazy and maybe I've been here in this insane household for too long, but there is the truth of it. I'm becoming afraid of a doll.

I'm hearing things too. A little boy's laugh haunts me when I'm alone. I can hear it echo in the house. Footsteps outside my door at night have woken me up several times and once I swear the door knob rattled. I keep my door locked at night because it's one of the rules. Are they all crazy here and playing tricks me? Or could it be the doll? Could it be real?

October 27, 2015

I can't believe I forgot. I had a migraine. My head hurt so much and I turned the music off. I broke the rules. Now he's going to punish me. He said so. What am I going to do? I'm all alone with him. No one else is here. He's going to hurt me, I know it. God help me.

Ellie closes the journal and frowns. The woman seems to have gone into a downward spiral of fear. She seems to have truly believed the doll was real. Not only that, but it was evil. Based on what Elizabeth learned about the real Brahms, it could very well be he'd been disturbed in life and possibly hurt another child. Surely she can't have thought the boy's ghost inhabited the doll could she? The emotions in her writing had been real though. It sends shivers of dread through Ellie thinking of her shaky handwriting near the end.

It was just a doll.

Elizabeth broke a rule though. She'd been all alone with him.

They told her she'd left two weeks ago, but this journal proves she didn't.

What happened to her?

Ellie's eyes widen. She broke a rule. She's all alone with him.

It's just a doll, she reminds herself.

Still, she gets out of bed and goes to check on him. She stops as soon as she opens her door. She'd closed Brahms' door. It was standing wide open. Maybe she hadn't closed it as tightly as she thought and it just drifted open.

The throw on the bed is exactly as she left it. A small lump is under it. She walks over to the bed and pulls it back. It's not Brahms, but a pillow.

Her eyes scan the room, but she sees no sign of him. She looks under the bed and in his closet. He isn't here.

Ellie broke the rules. There would be dire consequences his father had told her. The nanny had feared the consequences and being alone with him. She'd sounded terrified.

The first real pinprick of fear hits Ellie then. She's alone in the middle of a blizzard with him and she broke the rules. If this was real, she was in serious danger. It can't be real though. He is just a doll.

But where is he?