"She won't want my room," Lost said in a low voice, turning to look out the kitchen window. He really didn't like it when people ruled over things the way Lilian did, but the doll wouldn't say anything about it. Mother wouldn't allow the girl to take his room - it was too . . . special. It was darker than most other bedrooms, full of bizarre objects that made up Lost's collection of oddities, and fairly small for a room. Lost had claimed it as his own when he had first arrived a year or so back, and no one had challenged him on it. The tiny room wasn't even a true bedroom . . . it was more of a closet under the stairs.
His black eyes stared listlessly outside, and one of his thin hands strayed to his leather book resting on the table. Even with Sue sitting a few feet away, the doll felt alone again. It was hard to keep himself in contact with the world around him when his dark mind called . . . the doll let his darkened fantasies drift.