[The Dreamhouse.]

[A tiny ladder leans against a toy wrestling ring surrounded by dolls.]

[Dolly kneels among them.]

“People keep telling me I don’t understand how this works.”

[She tilts her head.]

“That I’m too nice.

That I must be a little crazy…”

[A small pause.]

“…because I talk about voices.”

[Dolly taps one of the dolls.]

“And that part’s true.

I do hear voices.”

[She looks up.]

“But they don’t sound like whispers.

They sound like all of you.”

[Dolly picks up a doll.]

“One voice tells me I don’t belong unless I follow.

That’s you, Padre.”

[Another.]

“One voice says everything has a price.

That’s you, Blackhead… always counting.”

[Another.]

“One voice sings and dances so loud it hopes nobody notices when it stops.”

[She smiles faintly.]

“I already know the ending, Jammy.”

[Another.]

“One voice says I’m weak.

That sounded like you, Azrana… right before you showed up late.”

[Another.]

“One voice says I’m broken.”

[A sad shrug.]

“That one’s messy, Glitter.”

[Another.]

“One voice says I need to be saved.

You tried to make that sound kind, Luke… but I still heard it.”

[Final doll.]

“And one voice says it already belongs at the top.

That’s you, Perdido.”

[Dolly looks around the circle.]

“Seven voices.

All talking at once.

All so sure they know who I’m supposed to be.”

[A beat.]

“But I’ve been paying attention.

I saw what happened last week.”

[Dolly taps one doll over.]

“Blackhead needed help.”

Padre lost control.

Glitter got lost in their own mess.”

[She pauses… then pushes another down.]

“Azrana waited… and still only stood tall after everyone else was down.”

[She nudges another.]

“Perdido couldn’t hold it.”

[A small smile.]

“And Jammy?”

[A beat.]

“You already know what happens when the music stops.”

[Dolly moves the dolls back.]

“You were all so loud.

So ready to tear each other apart to get ahead.”

[A small tilt of the head.]

“And what did it get you?”

[A beat.]

“A pile of bodies.

Broken glass.

And nobody in control.

That’s the part nobody’s paying attention to.

You’re all fighting each other…”

[Dolly glances at the ladder.]

“…and nobody’s watching the way up.”

[Dolly plants the ladder upright.]

“You can call me naive.

Soft.

Whatever helps you sleep at night.

But here’s what you don’t understand.

I walked into that chaos and I didn’t become it.”

[Beat.]

“I rose above it.”

[Dolly stands.]

“So bring your sermons, Padre.

Your debts, Blackhead.

Your claws, Azrana.

Your spotlight, Jammy.

Your judgment, Luke.

Your ego, Perdido.

[A small tilt of the head.]

“Bring your mess too, Glitter.”

[Beat.]

“Bring all the noise you’ve got.”

[Her smile sharpens.]

“Last week… all of you were as loud as you could be

And none of you finished anything.

At Invasion…”

[Dolly rests her hand on the ladder.]

“All that noise?

It won’t get you any higher.”

[She looks up.]

“Because ladders don’t care who’s loudest.

They don’t care who thinks they deserve it.

They just keep going up.”

[A final pause.]

“And while all seven of you are busy shouting over each other…”

[Bright. Certain.]

“…I’ll already be at the top.”