I fell asleep shortly after I retired, maybe I was more fatigued than I thought. I woke up in the middle of the night to noises. Faint tacking, like wooden shoes on wooden floors. I shifted deeper into my blanket. Creaks are not unusual, it's a loud house, but I should’ve realized. The house’s creaks are friendlier. Time passed and the tacking got quieter, I figured it really must have been nothing. Then I heard a wet popping, meaty crunching, squishy squirming. I tried to move, but only my fingers and toes twitched. Then I heard it. Tack, tack, tack, tack — a soft creak — tack, tack. Something was next to my bed, perhaps staring at me? I waited, and I waited. It felt like forever. Still I waited, and waited, until I couldn’t stand it anymore, and I peeked outside my blanket. A doll's face, one of those pretty western dolls, blue eyes, blonde hair, porcelain skin, I was more perplexed than afraid, and then CRUNKSH. What was this feeling? It was odd, something I’d never felt before. I looked down, and then I knew. My stomach had been torn open, split in half. The confusion quickly faded, replaced by pain. More pain than I had ever felt before, the horror of the situation was comparatively manageable. Then I fell asleep, but not really, and I woke, but not really, to a sound, slowly growing louder. Tack, tack, tack, tack — a soft creak — tack, tack. Something was in the room, right outside my blanket. Confused, I peaked again. CRUNKSH. I think this may have happened quite a few times, but I can’t seem to remember. Everything blended together... Eventually I jolted up faster than I ever had before, and swung my blanket around what must have been the doll. I sprinted outside my room, past the hallway towards the stairs - towards the exit. My foot came down on something chunky and wet, and I slipped and crashed down the stairs, followed by a deafening CRIK. I woke again, but not really, wrapped in my bed sheets. Tack, tack, tack, tack — a soft creak, tack, tack.

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  This next instance I remember properly. I threw the blanket around the doll, sprinted down the hall, carefully through the meaty hall. I sprinted down the stairs, into the living room, into the entrance, slamming my feet into the first thing that looked like shoes and bolted outside the house. I ran, and I ran, and I ran. Branches and nettles tore my skin, slashing and cutting me but I didn't really feel it. It was... easier than what had happened at my bedside.

"And then we found you?"

  Yes, you did, I think. You found me. You know, I left them? I could've gotten up, shouted a warning, done something, but I left them and now they're gone…

"To be perfectly clear, you're the son of Karles, one of the Madrids?"

  Yes, that was my father's name.

"We paid them a visit this morning and they all seem alive and well, and claimed you were not missing. When we mentioned you had come to the station, that you had said something happened inside the manor they clammed up and insisted we leave. Now we’re just waiting on the warrant.”