Your name is Dawn Strider and you know you should be able to dodge the attacks thrown at you, at least in theory, but you can't and all you want to do is go inside and have a bowl of mac and cheese (if bro remembered to go to the grocery store this week) and maybe curl up on the couch for a nap. But no, instead you're outside in the freezing cold (it seems to bite into your skin) on the roof and your arms are a mess of cuts and bruises and it hurts, it hurts more than anything's ever hurt before and you collapse onto the rough red brick and flit in and out of consciousness and then your brother picks you up and carries you inside and suddenly you're sitting on the linoleum of the kitchen and it's cool to the touch but pleasantly cool, not like the wind outside, and he's bandaging you up with a straight face but you barely register it and the antiseptic hurts, it hurts like hell, so you scream, and he tells you For god's sake, shut up, do you want the neighbors to hear?, but you don't care if they hear or not, because right now it's your third birthday and all you want is to lie down and fall asleep. Later on, he gives you a cupcake and you forget all about the events of the morning.
Your name is Dawn Strider and it's the next day. As usual, you're home alone, so you drag yourself out of bed and mumble a sleepy hello to Cal. who's standing there like always. Bro says he's watching over you to protect you but honestly these days you're not so sure, there's something inside that puppet's eyes that hint of evil. But you're three years old and you don't even know how to put that into words yet so you wave hi to Cal and go into the kitchen to make yourself breakfast. You open the fridge, expecting there to be some cereal or at least something that's less than a month past the expiry date, but instead there's a rush of silver metal and suddenly you're covered in swords, and these are sharp and they hurt, and you're pretty sure your attempts to protect your head and body have opened up some of the cuts from yesterday, and now you're bleeding on the same linoleum you were getting your wounds patched up on the day before, and oh god oh god oh god he's going to be so mad at me, and you want to scream so badly but you don't want to get in trouble, so instead you bite the bullet and you stumble into the bathroom and you don't know what's what because you can't really read small type all that well, so you take what you hope is rubbing alcohol and you slather it on your wounds and it stings like a million wasps but you know that if he finds out you hurt yourself like the stupid kid you are he'll hurt you worse, so you stick it out and bandage yourself up and turn on the tv.
The rest of the day passes by as usual.
He gets home at around two in the morning. He reeks of alcohol and sweat and he says he's taking you dancing. You don't know what he means but at least he isn't in one of his bad moods so you smile and he kisses you on the forehead and picks you up and twirls you around and you giggle and laugh in glee...until he notices the swords littering the kitchen floor. He puts you down and his face flashes dark for a moment, but a miracle occurs: he turns back to you and says that he'll clean them up later, but don't you think it's time for you to get to bed? Grateful that he's still in at least a moderate mood, you agree wholeheartedly and let him shepherd you to your bedroom, where he tucks you in, sets up Cal by the window (you say goodnight to him too, don't want to leave him out), and steps out, turning the lights off with him. Cal's eye gleams in the darkness, so you wave to it and, being absolutely exhausted, you fall asleep.
You dream of monsters and magic and strange metal machines and gears clicking and clacking and turning ever-so-slowly over a pit of boiling red...Is that jell-o? Whatever it is, it burns you when you try to touch it. You twist and turn and wake up panting and in a cold sweat more than once. Each time, you think you can see something moving but it's just out of reach and in any case, you're too exhausted to wonder what it is or try any harder to reach it than flinging a hand out to your side halfheartedly and tumbling back into your dreams.
Li'l Cal's eye still shines, but now there's a bright red light under it. You don't notice, though. You never do.