Trevor took a deep breath and continued on, following the hallway where the light flickered erratically. The floor creaked beneath his footsteps, echoing through the empty space. He passed a series of rusted doors, some ajar, revealing abandoned rooms filled with broken toys and old machine parts.
A metallic smell hung in the air. The silence was thick, broken only by the distant hum of the power outage and the occasional whisper of wind through the cracks in the structure.
Then—a louder noise.
Trevor turned, his eyes wide. This time, it wasn’t a distant sound, but close—too close. Something moved behind the rusted shelves. He could see shadows flickering between the empty spaces.
He swallowed hard and stepped closer.
Pushing aside a stack of boxes, he froze.
A porcelain doll sat on the floor, staring directly at him. Her eyes were cracked, but they still reflected the dim light of the factory.
And then, without warning, his head slowly turned to the side, as if it had just been activated.
Trevor took a step back, his heart hammering in his chest.
Then, from somewhere deep within the factory, a child’s laughter echoed—soft, distant, but unmistakable.