P U P P E T E E R

[02]

"Hatty." She repeats more firmly, finally gathering enough courage to shift direction of the rotating chair. The male figure now in full view, was paralyzed just as he was during her performance.

"Hatty I—"

[F/n]'s expression wrinkles with distraught. She's desperate. A quick glance into his orbs sunk her heart. His eyes were sunken black. She knew he had to be in there, somewhere.

Paying no attention to the mental protests rioting in her mind, her body acts on impulse alone. She steps nearer, grabbing the hand rested on the arm of his chair.

[E/c] eyes become glossy. Interlocking fingers, her lips quiver. His palm was cold to the brim, lifeless, with no sign of resistance.

What had they done?

She cups his hand, gulping a knot of saliva before gently tugging on his arm. No response. [F/n] rocks him slightly, thumb pressed against his palm.

Forcing her finger in a circular motion, she nudges him. Again, nothing.

[F/n] hugs his arm, pressing it against her figure. A shaky sigh runs out at the icy contact. Head rocking in disagreement, she lets go of his arm, instead yanking Hattington into a hug— something more filling.

Rattling against his still figure, the hat he wore floats away.

"Hat."

She pushes forward Hatty with a look of shock. The hope that gleamed from her eyes evaporated. His dull expression brought no sign of life. The sound— voice, sounded like Hatty.

Peering at him, warm hands cling to both sides of his head. Rubbing what would be considered his cheeks comfortingly, a loss of hope trails behind a sigh.

Although convinced she'd heard something, her mind insists she's just gone crazy. Hatty was in no condition move; much less speak. While giving herself reasons to ignore, the noice echoes again.

"Cover hat, c-cabinets."

[F/n] tumbles back, a soft thud following after. With cautious eyes, her figure shifts towards the fabric in question. Now she's certain she isn't imagining it. The material illuminated an alluring red light.

It was almost... hypnotic.

Scooting over besides the radiant, she takes it, squinting as the glow becomes brighter. [F/n] walks over towards a nearby cabinet; stuffing the hat alongside its contents without a second thought. Shutting it, red light seeped out of a crack that captured it.

She steps back, then looks at Hattington. He was still unmoving. Seeing the shell of someone she once cared about so dearly was mentally draining.

The realization itched her. They didn't turn Hatty against his friends, they made him a zombie, only to communicate when necessary yet lifeless for any other reason. A grey cloud looms over her head.

Making way towards the entrance of the office, her hand just grazes the knob. A bitter feeling swells in her chest. Something didn't feel right, then again, nothing ever feels right in this forsaken theater.

She hesitates to push the door open. She didn't want to leave, yet there wasn't anything she could do. Searching for some reason to stay, she's finally given one with a whisper.

"[F-F/n]..."

Darting her head towards Hattington, a wash of relief and other mixed feelings shower her. There he was, on his chair, weakly reaching towards the girl by the exit.

Wasting no time to idle, she scrambles to his side. Embracing him as tightly as she could as if it'd be the last time. Her heart shatters.

"I mi-missed y-you."