Siamo esseri di morte.
ed Egli è il nostro padrone.
Destino è attorcigliato.
"Verena, my sweet, sweet little Verena...when will you know that I am coming for you?" He strokes the head of a black-haired doll, smiling down at it with a twisted version of happiness. "It's only a matter of time until I claim you to be mine once more." he stands and throws the doll away, it landing on the floor.
The blank eyes merely stare at the other discarded dolls, shredded apart with nooses on their necks. And into the night, the sound of a ripping cloth breaks the silence.
Many places away, possibly in another world, even, Verena Herman feels a tinging down her spine. Her throat tightens and her eyes burn. The prickling in her back intensifies. She stiffens and shifts in her seat.
"Er weiß es."
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