"Now don't let the walls around you fall, my little doll." Vadim said in a calm manner. They were standing right next to Zabulus who was on his knees. In the distance, a large structure stood in place, a building, a mansion, or perhaps, a house.

Zabulus however simply did not contest their words, nor did he speak, he simply kneeled there. His 'eyes' looked at the ground, and his mouth was sewn shut, but he was able to breathe. The man was a doll, and his face was a stitched-up face, just as it should be.

It hurt simply to move it, or was it an uncomfortable ache that he felt? He was not certain of his senses any longer. Sardonically laughing at himself in his own head, he remembered words that had been said to him long ago.

"Do you wish to be a dying star?" Is that what he was now? Did he lose his ambition somewhere along the way, just to simply convince himself that he was now worthless? That he was a monster, a freak of nature. Something that should never have existed? He wondered.

Was this creation of his; or this creature from beyond, Vadim, the one that was truly in charge? Was he truly in charge or was he being manipulated by someone else? Someone else, or perhaps the creature itself, that had created his existence.

"....'s......'s....."

He wondered if it was worth it to think about it.

"What did I tell you, doll? Stand up." Vadim said as they looked down upon him with an expression of boredom.

The being that was now nothing more than a puppet to another entity stood up slowly and unsteadily, his legs felt weak, and his balance was off, and he could not keep himself steady, his body filled with an unnatural feeling of aches. He was in his own soul yet he was being commanded like a dog.

"Now, my dear little puppet. Do you wish to be free of this life of misery? Do you wish to be rid of this life that has no value? Or perhaps you do not want to die at all? Are you the chair or the man?" The words were said as a rhetorical question to no one but himself.

"...'s..!" A sound that came from his throat, a sound that was of an incoherent nature. A sound that had no meaning, nor any purpose, and was of no importance. He might have said to him, he tried, that he might have wished for a quick death. That he wished to be released from the pain of existence.

"Of course you do, of course you do, of course you do. Now, tell me one more thing! What's your name?"

"...'s....! 's.....!"

"Ah, yes. That is the correct answer. You have no name, you have no identity. You are nothing more than a vessel that I fill. For you have not found your finality in a condition that would be considered a death."

He felt his mind being ripped apart and shattered as he was mended back into a doll that had been torn and shredded. The being that he was was no longer a part of his identity. His memories were torn and shredded, and the only thing left was an empty shell.

"Though, even so, you continue to live. Why of all people were you immortal, you boring scummy being?"

His heart was torn, and he felt it beat one more time. The heart, it continued to beat, and he felt it throb with a feeling of pain and despair. His 'eyes', they were sewn shut, and yet, he could see.

His body was a doll's. His limbs, his hands and feet, his arms and legs. He was not a person. He was a mere thing. A mere object that had no meaning, no value, and no worth. Just as he was born, just as he was raised, just as he was abused, and just as he was broken, just as he was mended, and just as he was sewn. He was not an entity. He was a doll. He was not even a thing... how pitiful!

"But, even then. The pain of this life, that I have put upon you. You have not felt a thing. Not a single ounce of pain. Not even an ounce of pain that is even felt in your souuuul! Isn't that sad?" Their words were in a tone that was both sad, and in a way mocking. "You are a being who can never experience the joy of life or the sorrow of death. What melancholy. But I'll be a nice little god, a nice little being, and give you what I promised you." They smiled in a way that could be described as wickedly, in an almost insane manner, and then, in an instant, their expression was neutral and almost emotionless. "Your worthlessness," They pointed at a distant house that stood on the horizon, "That is your worth."

".....!" Zabulus' voice was that of no one, and it had no meaning to it.

"Now go." Vadim spoke.

"...!"

Zabulus had no choice but to follow the command. He walked away, walking in an awkward fashion, like a broken machine. His legs and arms moved stiffly, like that of a broken puppet. By this point, the disaster of his life was already so long, and so far that it seemed that it could no longer end. There was nothing else that could be done for him.

"You know, it's kinda ironic that you've become so apathetic and depressed, yet you still cling to the idea that there is a hope for change for yourself, don't you think?" Their words falling upon deaf ears as Zabulus was now far ahead of them, but even so, their words were reaching the man's ears.

"...'s...s......'s...."

He tried to speak but his words had no meaning. His words, his voice had been robbed of its meaning.

"Just turn the world away from you. You have nothing to say. No one to say it to. Your consummate lies, they don't exist in the world. They aren't needed. You are nothing."

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

He continued to walk in an awkward fashion, a fashion that was similar to a puppet on strings. His feet dragged along the ground and his legs moved awkwardly, his arms swung at his side. His facial expression resembled a doll. He was nothing but a mere object that had no meaning and no value. It was like the world had turned against him. It was a feeling that he felt before, rather... It was him who turned away from the world the moment he attempted to accept his own sin. And yet he did not understand what was going on, what was going on, or where he was.

But the point of this all, what is it, I wonder?

He wondered, what was he thinking? Why did he do this to himself?

'I think that it is time for the finale. Don't you agree? It has been fun playing this game of dolls.'

His thoughts were cut short as a voice echoed in his mind, he did not know who it was or why, or how it got in his head, nor did he care at this point. But the voice spoke again, this time louder than before.

'Nooooowwww, Zabulus, you've arrived at your little old house within your flimsy soul, so I wonder... what will you find?'

The house that he was in front of, it had been long since abandoned, and yet, it still looked the same as the last time he had been there, over 2000 years ago.

He turned the knob of the door, the glass making an unnatural creaking sound that echoed in the silence. It was an odd thing, the sound, but he didn't pay it any mind, he stepped in and entered the house. The cold air of the house hit his face as he entered, it was cold and dark in the house, the touch from knob to the floor was cold and smooth, the house, the building, it was all as he had left it, the last time that he was here, 2000 years ago, the last time that he saw her. It was just like it had always been, except for one thing.

"What is this... why is this... why?!" Fear was not a word that could describe the emotions that welled up within his heart as he stepped into the living room, it was an indescribable feeling that welled up within him, and his heart was heavy with despair. A decrepit woman, flesh and skin falling off, maggots eating at the rotting flesh, blood oozing out of every orifice and the body decomposed in front of his very eyes. Her naked body lacked any genitals, as if someone had removed them, and the woman's breasts were missing. She was dead, her face was covered in blood, and she was naked and rotting, and her face had the look of death on her, yet her blue eyes stared at him with an intent to kill. She was a monster that he did not want to face. Her white hair aflutter as a cold wind passed by, she looked like she was about to speak, her mouth opening and closing as she did so. The sight of the dead and decaying corpse of his torturer was enough to make his heart sink, but his heart had already sunk so far that there was no longer a bottom, a bottom for his emotions to fall through.

A monster, his heart was racing as he saw the dead woman, his breathing became irregular and he could feel a cold sweat running down his back. This wasn't natural, he was a soul now. Why would he feel this way? This was all a delusion. It simply had to be.

'But it's not, isn't it? I'm sure that it's all real, and that you are feeling these things. How interesting.'

Vadim was speaking in his mind once again, and their voice echoed through his thoughts and through the empty space that was his mind.

'Now do it, and turn your back on everything.'

His heart raced faster than before, his breath quickening and his breathing becoming laboured, and his chest heaved and he felt his heart beating in his throat as he looked at the corpse of the woman that had been his tormentor, he couldn't simply forget this, he couldn't turn a cold shoulder to this.

However, even so, as if he had been programmed to do this, he began to step back and turn around and walk away from her, he was being pulled away by an unknown force, he was being forced away from this.

"Ah... there you were... all along. Mother, where's your head, mother?" A soft voice came from him, as if he were in a dream. A voice that was so familiar to him, a voice that he heard all too often. A voice that had spoken to him all too often, to himself. "I'm... I'm s-"

Words cut short, he quickly shut himself up. What was he trying to do? He tried to think of what to do next. What could he do next?

'What are you going to do? You can't do anything.'

"To kill you, mother, that was all I wished for. Perhaps, if I do it in reverse, would that make it better for you, mother?"

'There is no better, no better for you or her.'

He thought, what was he doing? He didn't know.

A raised hand in the shape of a claw, as if it was the beginning of the end.

His hand moved on its own, as if it were a separate entity, a separate being. He had no control over his actions, it was as if his arm was moving on its own, he was not moving his own arm, it was moving on its own. His arm was not his, it was something else's.

A pierce through the soft flesh of a beating heart, a feeling of a hand through a chest, his hand had gone through flesh and was in a heart. A heart that he knew, that was a part of a familiar body.

"Ah... Ah...!" Wailing pathetically as he held his head once again in his hands as his mind began to race and he began to have trouble thinking clearly, "This is... this is not a memory! This is a nightmare!"

The house that he had just walked through, it was the house of his mother.

For she was always dead.

For he had been the one to murder her, long ago.

For he had deluded himself into believing that he had forgotten.

For he had forgotten. For he had forgotten that he had murdered her long ago. For he had forgotten the past and the future and the present.

His fragmented and constructed psyche was now a broken puzzle that he could never piece together.

For his memories were now broken and shattered, and the pieces of his memory, his mind, and his psyche, had been broken and scattered, and the only pieces he had left were the shattered fragments.

Why did he forget?

No.

Why did he do that?

No.

When did it happen?

No.

Why did it happen?

No.

How did it happen?

No.

Were the memories he saw of her any realer than his current reality?

He placed a hand over his left eye socket, attempting to suppress his own memories from his head. A memory of a memory, a memory of a memory, that he had suppressed for so long. That was all he had now, and he was going to be killed for it, and the one that would kill him was none other than his mother, who was dead.

The one who he killed, surely was not one so easy to kill. His own creator, his only creator.

'Now, Zabulus, this will be your final act, I am going to take everything away from you. I am going to leave you with nothing but the pain and agony that you should have felt long ago, and I wiiiiiiiish you luuuuck in finding a way to make this all go away! Bye Bye!'