My Tourture Toy

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The child shows a remorseful smile, puncturing father's soul in realisation of the innocence of the human before him. His eyes wide as I stab him with his own spear. Blood runs and splatters from his mouth.

He begins to flake away, one by one his flakes evaporate into the afterlife. Leaving me behind, my lips still etching futher towards my ears. The child, frozen in fear.

Now, what to do with this child. I look at the souls in my-uh-leaves. A lightbulb seems to brighten up above my head, if I can't have Chara, then this child can't have freedom.

I've changed my mind. The child, still shivering, is knocked out, not paying attention to what's being thrown at it. It doesn't deserve to be treated as a person, just like Chara was treated like an animal.

I drag the child into the unknown.

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