The doll has barely moved since we got here. There’s not really much for it to do, after all. I still haven’t decided what I'm going to do about it.

Maybe I should try to take its core out and see if I can do anything with it. I don’t know, that still seems like a bigger risk than I’m willing to take. There’s really no telling what a core based on a previously living human will do when taken out of its vessel. Besides, even if I could guarantee that I could put it back in safely, what am I going to do with it once it’s out? I don’t exactly have much experience adjusting even regular doll souls, ones I made myself and should theoretically have a decent sense of the shape and function of. This one was a person, an incomplete copy of a human brain. I don’t know a thing about neurology, or psychology, and even if I did I don’t think that would make me qualified to edit a cosma-based replica of a brain toward any end.

That’s without looking at the morality angle, of course. Say all that isn’t a problem, that I’m actually an expert on both human brains and replicas of them confined within doll cores, that I can easily and quickly make any desired change to the core inside this doll right now and it will be reflected as a shift in outward personality and behavior for the doll in question. What edits do I make? How do I make it like it was before I did this? Is such a thing even possible? I know how Sam acted around me, and I know how they talked and what they told me about their outlook and experiences, but how much is any of that really worth in this kind of scenario? Wouldn’t I ultimately just be building a facsimile of my own impression of them, rather than recreating their actual self in any meaningful way?

Far, far too many questions and no way to answer them. It’s just untenable. I have other work to do, anyway. I was able to have Jackie sell some general-use doll components I built out of some of the metal he brought back, and then buy some usable porcelain for me with the money he got from them, along with ingredients for the glue I use for doll repairs. The glue took quite some time to prepare, but it’s ready now, which means I can finally fix Sam’s faceplate. Unfortunately I would need more equipment from home in order to make it a new hand cover, so that’s not in the cards for the moment. It doesn’t seem to mind, but it does somewhat pain me to see it in such a condition. I take comfort in the repair work I can do, though. Mending the injury left in it by the demons that invaded my home doesn't quite erase it, but it at least leaves it firmly in the realm of memory. No open wound, no ongoing crisis, just a faint scar on its porcelain forehead.

Of course, in actuality the crisis is very much ongoing, but there’s no reason that should mean Sam has to stay in such a state. My problems shouldn’t have to be its problems, after all. At least, I hope not. I’d rather leave my progeny happy, if I can. I don’t want them to be chained to my own fortune, caught up in the current of my life.

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Then again, is that really possible? Most of these dolls are my own creations, built for a purpose in my house, bound to me in body and soul. They’re all sitting in a box next to my table after all, where they’ll remain until I’m in a more feasible position to be able to let them out. Sam may not exactly be the same as the rest of them, but if its experience is different from theirs, it doesn’t seem to be showing it. It's still stuck with me, it's still not showing much volition beyond that which I give it, and to the degree that it does it's mostly self-destructive. I don't know what to do about it at this point. This was never my intent, all I wanted to do was save a friend. I worry I might have damned them to a fate worse than death. It certainly seems to be seeking it out, now that it's here with me.

The thought bubbles up, unbidden, that maybe I should just grant its wish, but I push it away. That's not an option. I didn't put Sam through all this just to give up on them. There's got to be some way through this where they can survive, can come back into the light and feel the sun on their face, live again and truly enjoy life. I can't begin to fathom what that solution might be, but I'm certain it's there, somewhere, I just have to find it. Sam is in there, I can tell, and they may be in pain but at least they're alive, to some degree. I'm sure this vessel feels like a prison, but at least they're safe inside it, insulated from the decision they weren't in their right mind to make a month ago, protected from any further injury or death by the impervious shell I've built for them. It may be a shell that traps as much as it protects, but it's only temporary, I'm sure of it. This isn't the first time I've had to embark on solving a problem with no indication of where to start or what direction to move, and it won't be the last. Granted, I usually have more material to work with, but all of that is unnecessary anyway. This is the basis of magic, taking nothing and making it something. Creating order and meaning and purpose out of the void, laying down tracks on no foundation and driving a train over them. I'm a witch, and this is what we do, we conjure and we experiment and we birth the world out of thin air. There's not even a question of what will happen, the answer is a foregone conclusion. I will save Sam, I will return them to a life they can bear, I will help them through this and usher them back into the warm light of day. And if reality tries to stand in my way, tries to stop me from creating a more beautiful existence for my friend, I will wrestle it into submission as I have dozens of times before. The loss of my house, and the tools and materials contained therein, is a setback, but not an insurmountable one. I built it all before, I can build it again.

I'm just about finished repairing Sam’s faceplate. I lean back to admire my handiwork. Where there was a bullet hole, there's now just the faintest trace of a circle, with a few thin, pale lines spreading from it where cracks had begun to spiderweb out from the hole. The doll cocks its head at me, facial expression impassive as always.