#notlinear

Alone. Again.

He sat in his room under the flickering yellow light and felt the weight in his chest grow heavier and heavier. It wasn't meant to be like this. She was supposed to be his forever. To love and care for. And now she was gone. He slammed his hands down on the table as a fit of rage consumed him. How could she do this to him? All he had wanted was to care for her. He turned his attention to his handiwork that was sitting on his workbench still drying. Not bad, he thought to himself. After Cole had destroyed the doll, he'd thought it was irreparable. He had seen the look in Greta's eyes as it shattered, he had heard her scream. It brought a smile to his lips. She had cared for it, and in a way, she had cared for him too.

He'd spent a while in the games room searching for the fragments of porcelain as his stomach wounds throbbed painfully. Ignoring the pain, he dislodged the final missing piece from Cole's throat. He wondered what he should do with the corpse of Greta's ex, whether he should leave it there or dump it somewhere out of sight. Perhaps Greta would be back for him?

He stared at the reassembled doll sitting in front of him, proud that he'd been able to mend it so well. Sure, it was visibly cracked, but it was not going to fall apart again. He actually liked the cracks - it reminded him of himself. Broken, but in one piece.

"It's just us now," he told the doll, leaning back in his chair. He knew he should probably clean his wounds again, but for now, he needed rest. All that mattered now was that he had lived, and the boy was once more alone.

Alone.

Again.