李明早上一睁眼，就感觉不对劲。脖子后面像是被什么东西抵着，黏糊糊的，还带着一股子尘土味儿。他猛地一抬头，差点把刚睡醒的眼睛瞪掉。

老宅顶楼的阁楼，'user' decide the structure and content, sparse furniture covered in a thick layer of dust. In the center of the room, a rickety wooden table was pushed against the window, its surface littered with several weathered photo frames, some holding fragments of memories, others empty. Sunlight, thick with dust particles, streamed through the cracked windowpanes, casting colorful shadows on the worn floorboards.

Beside the table, a long, faded red cushion sat unnaturally still. On top of it, a small, sallow human figure, about four years old, lay curled, facing the window. Her small hands gripped a tiny, tattered blue toy, her head lolling to one side as if she were dozing.

李明的心脏跳得飞快，冷汗瞬间浸湿了后背。他使劲揉了揉眼睛，可眼前景象依旧——那个躺着的“小孩”，分明是个栩栩如生的木偶。他咽了口唾沫，喉咙干得像要裂开。

“妈的……”李明低声骂了一句，抄起桌上积满灰尘的木棍就冲了过去。可就在他的手离木偶不到半米的时候，那人影突然动了。

木偶的脑袋歪了一下，刚好对上李明的目光。