"Why did you decide it was so important for me to hate you? I think that's strange."
"Aren't you curious to see who you really are?"
"I know who I am."
-
I've watched her from the very start (when I sold my soul for a bag of crisps), when she was number one in everyone's eyes, Whiskey.
The only one I really saw among the dolls but now when she's scared body and soul (no longer Whiskey, no longer herself) yet I still watch her.
(to them she was ugly, damaged goods, but to me she is something else entirely)
But instead of watching her with wonder, (how could one girl be so amazing, when she's not meant to be a girl at all?) I now see nothing but horror for a broken doll and guilt over what I did to her.
('it's part of your job, now either you turn her into something useful or she goes to the attic, which one is it, Mr. Brink?')
"Ready for a treatment, Whiskey?"
And with words I say every hour of every day, without a care in the world (until when it will one day come to bite me in ass) for the people in the chair, I took away yet another version of her.
(and back then I did it without caring, without a little voice telling me how I'm a sick son of a bitch, but now it's all catching up to me)
"Yes, of course."
-
But now she sees right through me (with those eyes I can no longer meet) like I'm nothing, the one that murdered her twice without even touching her.
(stripped away her mind, but still there's her soul glaring back at me, with nothing but the hate I deserve)
Those eyes burn holes in me (and laugh as I suffer), those judging eyes which hurt me when I dare to look back at them, and these days I don't even deserve the chance to repent.
But that doesn't mean I won't try, ask for the forgiveness (I need it more from her then anyone else) I need to keep on going, that forgiveness I should be asking for from all of them.
(the ones I saw as empty, because I took it all away from them, until Echo's hand found my heart)
"I'm sorry, It's my job, what else can I really say?"
I could say sorry until my mouth fell off (and doubt she'd believe a single word), say what a son of a bitch I am and she'd only agree but it will still be the same as before.
Me suffering each day (wanting to cry and be a man at the same time) under the weight of what I did, and the fact that this little world I created for myself is slowly crumbling down and soon it will be nothing but dust.
(and all that will be left is the need to be forgiven, by her and her alone, and now the need to leave this place, which is hell masquerading as heaven)
"That's all you can say, Topher, but is that all you can do?"
-
"Does it still hurt?"
"What?"
"Your heart?"
Everyday, when it's Echo's turn to become a zombie once again (or a super-modal-karate-fighting-supergirl!) it's the same question 'does it still hurt, your heart?'
Ever since I found her warm hands over my heart as if trying to put it back together (when instead she should be trying to find hers), when that day it was hurting more then it ever had but that only helped me figure out I had one.
(and I wasn't heartless like they had begin to think, 'how can he do this to them, he must be heartless, void of all feeling' but they were all so very wrong)
"Yes, now, Echo, ready for a treatment?"
These days (filled with her eyes always burning into me) it's gotten harder to say these words, the ones that I have to say over a hundred times a day (instead of, 'want me to strip your mind?'), and to do the job that once-upon-a-time I was made for.
(a know-it-all that doesn't give a damn about people, not dolls and not doctors)
"Yes, of course."
-
Then in the blink of eye it's happening all over again (the same words, the same scars, the same everything) Victor, who is now ugly, broken, and useless in their eyes.
(even in those who say or believe they love him, all they see now is three angry red lines)
"Do I have to tell you to do your job, Mr. Brink, like last time?"
Last time, when we were all thinking 'please god don't let this happen again', it was nothing, easy as pie but now it's getting harder and harder with each wipe.
"One new handler coming up, Boss, John Chase is now a new member of our staff."
"Good, I'll leave you to it."
It seems it's even harder to act like me (me where I'm a child nonstop, until now) then it was being me, because now when I take away a piece of someone it also takes a piece of me with it.
('does it still hurt?" 'like it's getting chopped into tiny pieces, it hurts so goddamn much, Echo, it hurts')
"Bad idea, very bad idea. Hello there, Victor, welcome back. The good doctor here will be taking you with her, is that okay?"
"Y-Yes."
Those eyes were glued on me once again but this time there wasn't any of that burning hate but instead of it there is the forgiveness that I've needed and finally I truly earned it.
"Thank you, now he won't end up like me, he might not be himself yet (but soon he'll be free as a bird) but at least he's not tricked into thinking he's someone else."
I become a traitor in a second but I didn't give a damn because this was all for her and that's what really matters.
"Your welcome, Claire, but I haven't earned your forgiveness yet. Expect a whole lot more from now on."
"I always did from day one, I'm just glad you finally woke the hell up."
"Me too."