Jennifer... Tiffany... She truly couldn't remember who she was anymore. Was she Jennifer? A sexy, up-coming movie star? Or Tiffany? A hopeless romantic, psychotic killer? She did not know. She contemplated this as she tucked in her twin children, Glen and Glenda. They had just read the story of Hansel and Gretel, (the G-rated version for Glen) and she kissed both her children on the heads, bidding them good night, before her daughter said something, that made her freeze.

"Mommy, can you sing the lullaby?"

The mother stared down at her curly haired daughter, eyes wide. No. Not that song. The song that had broken her heart. The song that she had forbidden herself to sing. The song HE had written for her. But somehow her daughter had heard her singing it. "Sweet face, I don't think that's a good ide-" "Come on mum!" Glen's little British voice chirped. The mother sighed, knowing her children would not rest until she sang. "Alright. Lay down." She smiled a little, letting her twins lay down in their beds, and cuddle up with their stuffed animals. Then, She took a deep breath, and began to sing.

"Remember me,

Though I have to say "Goodbye"

Remember me,

Don't let it make you cry

For even if I'm far away,

I hold you in my heart

I sing a secret song to you each night we are apart"

By that time, the twins were asleep. She watched them in their peaceful slumber, and bit her lip. She stood up, to turn the lights off, but then she saw something that caught her eye. In her son's hands, was a photograph. Slowly, she walked up to him, and gently took it out of his hands, staring at it. It was a photo she immediately Recognized. It was of her son, in doll form, next to a severely burned body. But that wasn't what got her attention. On the other side of the body, was a little scarfaced doll, stitches all over his face as he evily smiled at the camera, his eyes shining a bright, crystal blue as he gave a thumbs up. It was her husband. Or Rather, Ex-husband. Charles Lee Ray. Chucky.

"Remember me

Though I have to travel far"

She still remembered the day she had left him. They were about to... Transfer into Jennifer and Stan. But he had a change of heart. He wanted the family to stay dolls, saying they would be more famous as psychotic voodoo doll killers. But Tiffany didn't want that life. Nor did she want it for her child- unknown to her children at that point. The words she'd said to him echoed into her brain.

"I'm leaving you Chucky, and I'm taking the kid."

"Remember me

Each time you hear a sad guitar"

His horrified face burned in her brain like a pain that would never go away. She had chased after him for so long. Even to the point where she admitted she was just plain annoying. But then what did she do? Leave him all alone. She sat the photo down, walking downstairs, and into the living room. On the top shelf, was the thing that she mostly ignored when she passed it. A blonde, hipster-like doll in a beautiful little wedding dress, it's green eyes staring into her own as if peering into her soul. Her old doll form. She sighed, crossing her arms, shaking her head, turning to the wardrobe. A small pool of blood was leaking out of it. She remembered what had happened a few days before. She had used the little doll to bash the twins' maid, Fulvia's head in, for talking shit about Glenda. Had she really forgotten, that day? The day the little arm grabbed her son by the throat, and threatened to throttle him? Honestly, how could she? She still had the arm, tied up in her closet.

"Know that I'm with you the only way that I can be."

The mother stood up and grabbed a dish towel and some cleaner to clean up the puddle. Just like the good old days. when she killed whoever she wanted, with her boyfriend by her side. Jennifer shook the thought out of her head, sighing. No. She couldn't think of that now. She had to look out for her kids. She sprayed the cleaner, before starting to scrub. Quick and hard against the hardwood floor, making sure no stain was left. No stain for her guilt. She thought of what had many happened years ago. When they were... Human.

~They had killed someone in their own apartment. After dumping the body in the river, it was time to clean the white tile floor. While Chucky sat at the table, Tiffany was on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor, the smell of bleach overwhelming her boyfriend, until he sarcastically commented:

"Damn Tiff. Don't fall. The bleach will turn you paler than Frosty the snowman's fuckin' ass."

The two had shared a look, before bursting into hysterical laughter, before Tiffany actually spilled the bucket. Causing both to laugh harder.~

The movie star herself found herself laughing. That had been a few days before... Chucky had been shot down in the toy store. Before her heart was broken. Before she felt a glimmer of hope, that was taken away. The laughter formed into tears. She wasn't a movie star. She was Tiffany. A sham who had given up the man who loved her enough to kill for her. And himself, but hey. She didn't deserve this life. She didn't deserve those two wonderful children up there. She deserved nothing but pain.

"Until you're in my arms again..."

Tiffany held her head in her hands, trembling. "What have I done?" She whispered, tears dripping down onto the floor.

"You always have been one to cry, Tiff."

Her head shot up, and she turned, eyes huge and wide. She knew that voice. She always would. Then she saw the thing that made her freeze. On the coffee table, stood a red headed good guy doll, an arm missing, a small smirk on his stitched and broken lips.

"...Chucky?"

"Remember Me..."