The bar smelled like puke, piss, and spilt drinks. Grown men fought over what song to play on the jukebox. A skinny girl and her drunk boyfriend screamed a love song in the microphone. I cringed. Forgot it was Karaoke Night. I turned to the exit. It's too late to leave now, you walked all the way here!

I knew it was a bad idea- going to the bar after having just woken up from an ass-kicking a few hours ago- but my aches and pains rendered sleep impossible and I craved some kind of relaxation. Watching The Immortal and The Restless didn't help.

"Hey, Abby," I greeted the bartender, sliding into a barstool and resting my hands on the counter. Abby's eyes flicked up from the glass she was pouring.

"Hey," she nodded, then paused to squint at my bruises. "What the hell happened to you?"

"I, uh, don't want to talk about it," I mumbled. After breaking her stare, she stuck a cherry in the drink.

"You finally able to get drunk?"

I traced my finger along the wooden counter edge, frowning. "I wish. Some people just aren't built for the buzz, I guess."

I just want this headache to go away, really.

I sighed. "But I like the taste. May I have whatever you're making right now?" Abby thinned her lips and slid the glass to a heavyset guy down the counter.

"Funny thing, Mike," she said, raising an eyebrow and the corners of her mouth, "I discovered the other day that you aren't as old as you say you are." My spine straightened.

I told Sasha that this was a bad idea!

"Heh, well, that's... who- who told you?"

I snapped my hand away from the counter, wincing as Abby leaned in close. I stopped myself from counting how many blackheads and piercings dotted her face.

"Sasha told me all about what she was going to get you for your birthday. The number slipped out." She made a mock-sad face. "I'm sorry; I can't serve alcohol to minors."

I turned briefly, looking at all the people having a good time drinking their problems away. A few of them looked about 16 years old. You gotta be shitting me.

"Abby, you've known me since high school-" I tried, putting my hands together. Abby rolled her eyes.

"You were a crybaby and a pushover, and I didn't like you then. The only reason I tolerate you now is because I'm friends with all your exes and they say you're cool now." She lowered her voice. "Somewhat. But we aren't friends and I'm not going to risk my job today."

"Fine," I huffed with a glare. "I'll take a coke." She put on a grin before opening the cooler and handing me an ice-cold one. I snatched it from her grasp, flashing a forced grin and a "Thanks."

"It's just one more year, Mike," she said, "you'll live."

"Hmph."

She turned away from me to handle something behind the counter. I held the coke bottle to the side of my face, groaning at the sting.

"Hey, is Sasha here?" I decided to distract myself as I opened the fizzy beverage and took a sip. Abby pointed a finger at the back door, calling, "Out back on her break."

She can't still be sore, can she? It's been, like, two whole weeks or something. I'll say hi.

I rose from my seat and Abby turned off the tap. "You haven't paid for the drink, you can't take it outside-"

"Taking it outside," I smiled, raising my glass and turning to leave. "I'll be right back. Just saying hi." Abby groaned behind me.

I stepped out the back door and coughed as I inhaled a puff of thick, sweet smoke. Sasha leaned against the brick with a cigarette between her fingers, frowning at two guys standing before her. I didn't take another step. What's going on here?

"Just think about it, babe!" a guy with a greasy tank top and an ugly moustache spoke to her at an alarmingly close proximity. "It'll be fun! For you, me, and all my friends!" He grabbed her arm and I saw her flinch.

"I already told you no like a thousand times, Lance," she said, her voice trembling under her tough demeanour. "Also, you clearly haven't gotten it through your thick head yet: we're done." He snickered.

"As if. You know you can't survive without me." He patted the back of his pants. "And my wallet."

Sasha's fierce expression deflated. The men both found it amusing, chuckling evilly.

"W-well, I'm not going with you or any of those twisted sickos you call friends," Sasha growled. Lance shook his head.

"Tsk. You'll change your mind on the way."

As if their movements were choreographed beforehand, he and his pal synchronously seized her. Dropping her cigarette, Sasha struggled against them. She managed one kick to the shin. The men attempted to force her into their car. I couldn't watch any more.

"HEY! SHE SAID NO!"

Lance released his grasp on her and approached me. I backed up to the wall involuntarily. Oh this is like one of those coming-of-age movies-

"And just who are you?" he asked, his eyes glinting with pride. I caught Sasha's pleading stare.

Leave, please, she mouthed.

"I'm her ex-boyfriend," I spoke honestly, swallowing my tiny tone. Lance grinned sharply.

"Oh okay, then that means she isn't your girl anymore. Right?"

My brain screamed not to intervene. You have never won a fight! I clenched my fists. I can't just do nothing.

"I'm not going to let you force her around," I said, my tone firm. As usual, I let myself fake a confident aura. Lance glanced at his buddy.

"Daim, go ahead and go," he grumbled, "while I deal with this-" My fist contacted his face before he could call me probably one of the nasty slurs I usually got in high school. BAM! All those hours of training with James actually paid off.

"Woo! Shut the hell your mouth!" I exclaimed, feeling a rush of excitement and bouncing on my heels. I actually defended myself! I was too proud to notice my hand burning. Lance licked his fat lip, growling and seething with rage. My pride instantly left when he jabbed my gut. I dropped my soda and heard it roll into a pile of trash. He struck repeatedly, keeping me curled over.

Not again! Not again!

I felt my body locking its muscles. No! I grasped the attacker's hair and gave it a good tug. He growled, ripping himself away. I clutched my wrenching stomach before feeling thick hands shove me to the concrete. Lance and his friend- Damien, I'm assuming- kicked my already sore ribs. My lungs refused to give me air and dizziness hit me. After an eternity, the attackers stepped back. I blinked through tears and shakily got to my knees. Behind me, I heard Sasha whimper.

"Now you know not to poke around in someone else's business," grunted Lance. I shot daggers into his evil glare.

Fight back, fight back, a small part of me chanted. No! Keep your mouth shut! I opened it.

"Sasha will never be with an asshole like you," I spat along with blood. Lance's face twisted back into his ugly sneer. Four hands wrapped around me and slammed my head into the wall. I heard Sasha screaming at them, but I couldn't make out what she said. They kept pounding my head into that brick wall, intending to kill me or at least knock me out via head trauma. But for some reason, my body wasn't willing. I heard a muffled shatter, followed by everyone suddenly yelping in pain. I fell back and rolled to my side. One of my eyes saw only black fuzz. Sasha and the attackers all had their hands covering their ears; their eyes squeezed shut.

"What is that noise?!" cried out Damien. Lance stared at me slack-jawed; he slapped his buddy, not taking his eyes off me. They scrambled out of my line of sight almost like some cartoon characters. Sasha only stood there, blanching. Only when I heard a car speed off did I totter to my feet. The pain was so unbearable I prayed I would fall unconscious soon. And I'm not even all that religious. Sasha hadn't broken her gaze.

"What's wrong?" I asked, touching my face but feeling no sensation of pain. What did they do to me?

Her lips barely moved as she uttered, "Your face... it's..." She slipped back inside the bar without another word.

My eyes widened. Is it that bad? I walked up to a parked car along the street and jerked back with a scream.

The man in the window glass had a chunk of his face hanging off, the stuff underneath flickering back and forth between bloody raw skin and a mass of tangled wires surrounding a glowing blue eye. My breath stopped and my head began to throb worse than it already was. Something beeped in my ears, a constant sound- I covered them but it only grew louder. The world glitched and shifted black-and-white and purple. I tried blinking away the static but it only spread. I ended up on the ground, curling up and trying to forget the now stuck image flashing before my eyes- my own endoskeleton.

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"Can you hear me? I don't know if you can hear me. I- I'm sorry." He squeezed my hand. I couldn't squeeze back. A loud beep sounded, hurting my ears and drowning out the screaming. My friends disappeared one by one, leaving me alone with the black void coming to swallow me whole. Come back! Please! I couldn't hear my voice anymore. Warmth surrounded me, pulling me and urging me to sleep. The last thing I heard was a sharp whisper.

"I will put you back together."

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Warmth trapped my body, swallowing me. It was soft and squishy and dark- like I was in a bowl of pudding. Walls surrounded the pudding and pushed it together to form a tight box, forcing my limbs together. I couldn't breathe.

I have to get out!

I thrashed about, kicking away the walls. The darkness faded away and a light blinded me. I bolted upright with a gasp. My heart pounding in my chest, I glanced around for ten seconds before realising I was back at home on the couch. Pillows and folded blankets and towels surrounded me. It took me a few seconds to process my memories. I ran my hands through my sweaty hair, then touched my face to make sure I still had it. My attractive young features were all together. I realised a lack of bruising or soreness or cuts- no pain either. Was it all just a dream?

"Stop getting beat up."

Father sat in the armchair, leaning forward with his fingers interlocked.

He brought me here, I concluded. It was NOT a dream.

"How did you know where I was, Father?" I asked.

"I have my ways," he replied hastily. I was tired of this. I sprung off the couch, ignoring my head spinning, and stood in front of Father.

"Okay, I need answers!" I stormed, my hands locked into fists. "There is something really wrong with me, and you know it! You know what it is! Why must you keep so many things a secret?!" I didn't realise how loud I screamed. Rage trembled my body. Father didn't flinch at my behaviour.

"There's a lot you don't know, Michael," he said, sitting back in the chair, "and I intend to keep all the secrets for now."

"WHY?!"

Father rose from his chair, staring me in the face. I saw hatred boil in his eyes. My fingers trembled, longing to grab that old man's collar and shake the answers out of him. Miraculously, I held back the urge.

"You only exist because of my nagging guilt," he growled, stabbing my chest with a bony finger. I swallowed hard. His face was suddenly unrecognizable. What do you mean-

"If it weren't for me, you'd be a pile of scrap metal sitting in my factory collecting dust."

I choked on my breath. I could hardly comprehend the words.

"What... n-no!" I kept denying it with a raised finger. "No! You're lying to me!" Tears burned my eyes. I stepped away from Father as images of the night before flashed in my vision.

Not real. Not real. Not real! I saw Father standing over me, carefully removing the skin layers from my face. I'm... scrap metal? Not real?

Frustrated, I could no longer resist the urge to grasp Father's collar. I rasped in his face, "Tell me the truth!"

He shoved me away.

"I already have!"

I opened my mouth to scream again but no words went past my lips. What was I supposed to say about this? Father stepped past me and unlocked the back door.

"Where are you going?" I asked, knowing he wasn't going to answer me.

"It doesn't matter," he said. He pulled on his coat. My scowl eased into a saddened expression.

"Just like me, huh," I muttered, then lowered my head as the words burned themselves into my brain. I never mattered to him. Father's brow softened.

"You-" he started but hesitated. I looked up hopefully. What was he going to say? Does he care about me?

"I had to restrain you last night. You had a seizure," he said. He paused to pull open the door. "I could have let you concuss yourself on the coffee table. Or I could have let you rust away in the back alley of Jr's. But I didn't. That's-"

"That's not love," my mouth grumbled. Father frowned.

"What would you know about love?"

I couldn't find a comeback before Father left me alone with my thoughts.

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The soggy leftovers of my rage never left me when I reached the elevator of Circus Baby's Entertainment and Rental. Father's words kept throbbing in the back of my head- so loud that I could hardly focus on Hand-Unit talking to me. I thought about what Funtime Foxy did to me and wondered if that rage was meant to be for someone else. The idea of walking into a death trap blindfolded didn't scare me at this point, but what did was the fact that everything I knew- about Baby's, about Father, and myself- could be a lie.

What am I?

I pushed the thought away. Think positive. I took a deep breath.

I have to find my sister. That's the only thing that matters now.