The doll is just over five feet, it's skin pale but expertly painted to give it a life-like flush. It has cherry red lips and sharply defined black eyebrows. It's curly raven hair falls to just above its hips, and I can clearly make out the exposed joints in its fingers.

The doll's frilly white shirt covers its arms down to the wrists. The simple black skirt falls to its ankles, and it's wearing black and white sadleshoes.

The thing that stands out the most is, of course, the eyes. They look glassy, pure blue marbles inserted into the sockets of just one doll. The sockets of the others are hollow.

The glass ones make my skin crawl. It looks down at me from its throne, and cocks its head.

"Do you know why I'm the only one with eyes?" It asks. It's voice is rough, scratchy.

The doll holds up a pair of glass eyes, these ones made to look like normal blue eyes instead of monochrome orbs. I shake my head.

"Because," the doll says, "that means I'm the only one with a soul."

The doll stands up. It's strength surprises me as it slowly crushes the eyes in its hand. The broken shards sparkle when they slip between its fingers.

"If the others get free," it says, and then stops, its mouth twisting in disgust. "I won't allow it. I won't allow the likes of you to ruin this life. My life."

It snaps its fingers, and one of the hollow-eyed dolls, a big one, grabs me by the arms. It starts to drag me out of the room.

The doll holds its hand over its eyes.