My mother was a sweet woman. Bright, outgoing, charitable to a fault. The kind of Goodbody that would go out of their way for a person even if they didn't ask. Few were like her, many looked up to her. And so, the world lost because of her.

The world didn't take too kindly to her radiance. It took my good mother away in my eleventh year of life.

To her last breath, the single, lonely ray that shone down on her never faded. Maybe it was because she never viewed death as the end. At her bedside, she'd tell me that death is an incredible journey you never came back from. A journey where you could see all kinds of places, meet people you never knew lived, and experience things too difficult to put into words. Whenever she did, her eyes drifted from me to the world over my shoulder.

It stung in so many ways. I suppose I was jealous? Of the other side she was going to, that is.

One of her favorite channels on television was a magic show, where a man tipped a hat to reveal a dove among other acts. She loved the miracles the man made, even when father told her it was all a ruse. Mother would only smile and watch the bird perched neatly on a gloved hand, as though entirely unconvinced by his futile attempts at reasoning.

But I... often wondered why everyone looked past how lonely the bird must have been under there. Everyone was so focused on the act, they'd lost sight of lost freedom all for the 'magic' of it all. That dove had places it knew to be. In some ways, I could feel that in my mother's eyes, what she saw.

A hat or hypodermics, subservience, or a gown. Those tender young years of mine forgot to mention the difference between those things but, maybe there wasn't. Uncertainty is, for better or worse, a child's first playmate.

I remember when she went on that journey, with a cheerful farewell to my father and me. I didn't feel anything that day, maybe because I couldn't bear to see her kept from those sun-filled days with any mournful expression. Tears would have made her struggle for one more minute, now that I think about it. She was that kind of person.

Now that I had stumbled into this bizarre situation, I wonder if my mother did as well.

I could remember it all, with vivid clarity. But why, why couldn't I remember her name?

It felt a piece of me was missing. A gap so blatantly obvious, it was impossible not to notice. My mother wasn't the only casualty either. So many other segments of my previous life felt disjointed. Faces blent together, times and places lost meaning. When yet another slice was taken from my body, followed by that indescribable tearing sensation, the gravity of the situation dawned on me.

As my past began to crumble, I realized my body was my ego. This shapeless body carried the weight of my entire consciousness. It was weak, that much I knew of the coagulated, jelly-like consistency of my body mass. But never did I expect a threat to the closest things to my heart. Those memories, however painful, were the only things I had left of my past self. Without them, I wasn't me.

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Are...they done?

I swiveled my attention over, only to notice its lethargic response to my will. A mist -or haze of some kind blanketed my vision, likely a side effect of getting cut into three pieces if I had to guess. I could barely make out the wide-eyed man's face because of it. The tearing had stopped, meaning they were likely finished. I hoped so, prayed so, at least. With nothing more than texture, the only thing I knew was that they put me into yet another container.

So they cut me into pieces. It almost didn't make sense, and it took awhile to process that it could happen. What did they need to do it for? Surely not to be eaten, although I couldn't dismiss the idea altogether. Maybe I'm...

An experiment?

Everything up until now would fit if that were true. But an experiment for what? Another among the sea of questions anxiously pricking the back of my mind. And yet, that wasn't the worst of all.

The emptiness in my very being. I want it all back. I want it... this isn't something anyone should have to go through. Everything I was, am, erased. It has me questioning whether I really lost anything. I... can't remember anymore.

W-what is my name? Come on. Remember! Remember damn it!

Ah. I can't. So they even took my name away? It can't be...

U-unforgivable.

That these bastards would dare take my childhood from me. Whether they were aware of it or not, I couldn't care less. Their ignorance of my suffering didn't matter. If I had the power to punish them... oh if I did. I wanted to kill them. Tear them apart. Dismember, gut, and feed their own back to them. An unreasonable, seething rage, something I'd never felt before began to surge from a hateful knot in my heart I never knew existed.

Heart? No, that doesn't make sense. I'm not human anymore.

I couldn't do anything. What could a witless blob, a mere object in the hands of men, do? For a moment, I almost let my anger get the best of me. There was too much at stake for irrational thought. Escape. That's all I needed to focus on, was getting as far away from these people and this godforsaken chop-shop as possible. Everything that came afterward was secondary. Even if it meant risking death for a second time.

What am I even saying? Would I rather die than lose those memories?

Yes. I would. That answer came almost too naturally. It felt right. Maybe I wouldn't have thought this way as a human being, but that unreasonable resolution felt cathartic. An unreasonable resolve in an unreasonable world. That, in a way, sounded reasonable. There was nothing to lose now. My previous life? Swept away in a flurry of cuts. My family? They aren't here.

Who I am now, though? Well, guess that's the important one. I just have to find out, eh?

Ha... haha... alright then. As soon as I can figure out how to get away. Easier said than done. Ugh, I can barely think.

Whether it was the fact that I felt so much smaller, or how much of my previous life went missing to those people, or both, I couldn't tell. Holding a single thought in my mind for only a couple of seconds took too much effort. Sleep might help, though I don't know if I can as I am. I have no eyes to close, or any body parts with the sensibility to appreciate it.

A sudden jostling alerted me to a new change in my environment. I didn't dare move, as that might alert my possessors. Who knows what they would do if I did show them I was a thinking thing. What if they disposed of me right there?

Or is that even a concern at this point? Maybe it would be better if I simply ended it right there. Just wobble about a little, and maybe everything will stop. Maybe... I'll really die this time.

There's nothing else for me. Just get it over with, whoever you monsters are!

With all the spite I could muster, I defiantly lifted my mass up onto its edge, and wagged my proverbial finger at any and all comers. If I could choose how to end my life, it would be while being as much of myself as possible, of course.

Come. Take the last of me, after you've taken everything else I had. Of all the things to still remember, I know that I've already died once before. I'm ready for a true ending.