Them.

We love you, They told Sophie, taking her porcelain hand in their claws. She watched the razor iron close around her skin, red lines from stress forming on the surface. She'd been listening too intently to her silence, and had, in turn, found Them. Or rather, They'd found her.
We love you ever so dearly, my sunshine, and we do recall that a certain game is in order.
Sophie feared keeping her eyes open, feared seeing their terrible teeth and leery grins. Yet she found it the hardest task to close her eyes shut even a little, even at all.
"What game?" she sighed, letting her voice spike to a whisper.
Ah, darling. What game indeed? There are many. Mr.Wolf is wondering when next he will eat, you know. Or perhaps a nice try of hide and seek, we have the greatest forests and grandest trees, you are aware, love. 
"Why don't I just bring some treats to Grandma, have the Wolf escort me there anyhow?"
Sophie knew their games. She'd played them her whole life. In nightmares, Folklore, Faerie tales. In songs she used to sing, in hushed voices like the wind. Every child knew these games, of course. These were their upbringing, being warned not to walk too deep into the forest, not to trust every sweet old lady. Evil Witches, Goblins, Elves awaited at the end of the tunnel. Of course, of course darling Sophie knew.
"So why don't you just pick a game then. Follow the leader off the cliff, Simon says jump?" Sophie yawned. "But do hurry."
They snarled amongst themselves, hushed voices barely growling. There was enough darkness in their eyes to ward her off, but Sophie knew it could only be a dream. What a concept, she mused. 'Knowing'.
How true indeed, our child. Nothing is so solid that it cannot change. Nothing is absolutely knowable.
Sophie glanced into their eyes, lured forward by an electric pull that shocked her entire system when she stepped too far away.
Dear one, we've chosen the perfect game. Do you agree to play until the game is won, on your own accord, so long as whatever happens is no one's fault save your own?
Sophie shrugged. "So long as we hurry. I do have a date with Death in a few decades." 
Then it is settled.
The larger ones formed a circle around her, taking her hands in theirs, if you could call their claws such things. Each one was different, but dark. They were like a group of ill-formed Monsters, all clothed in the same fashion, were that fashion darkness. But a cold, sinister darkness with a wild scent to it. Almost as if it was brisk enough to touch, thick enough to hold. Every single one was different from the others, possibly their odd-fitted voices, so soothing and light; possibly their skin, stretched tight over their bones, which in some, bent at strange angles that looked wildly painful. Sophie couldn't tell, Sophie couldn't care.
They bread fear with each step, with each word terror climbed up your spine on all fours. Their breathing was so silent, sometimes she thought They weren't breathing at all.
Sophie, our sweetness. What game would you prefer we start with? By day-break, we plan to wake, and walk you home so no one else may catch you. You do remember you're ours, do you not?
Sophie just smiled. "Yours, all yours, forever, ever more. My soul I give, my dreams I sell, to your knocking at my door. If I should die, before I wake, I hand myself to you. You are mine, and I am yours, for this my fate, I drew." The quote tasted copper solid in her throat. She'd drawn it from a cap in the hospital one night when she'd been ill with a fever. In her sleep, she'd read the words aloud and murmured deep promises by the moonlight in her window.
Well done. Now hurry along Time is precious, Faux-Lion. 
"My name," she smiled. "Your gift to me, I won't forget."
And together, they stepped into the darkness that surrounded Them constantly. The settings changed, and Sophie couldn't help but find that comfort in the rearrest place of all; her deepest, darkest fears.