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𝑩𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑶𝑵 𝑴𝑨𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺, 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑫𝑶𝑳𝑳𝑴𝑨𝑲𝑬𝑹.
you remember it. you remember it so vividly, it's as if you never left that moment. the way your heart pounded against your chest and sweat dripped down your brow ... it was unmistakable, you were afraid. though your father spoke to you, his words were hollowed, echoey like you were in a tunnel with no escape. you wanted to run away. it was a powerful instinct and you didn't want to deny it, you wanted to succumb to it. but your father - you thought everything of him and he was the only thing you had, so you didn't want to disappoint him. you still remember the first bite. it was like biting into bone, then gelatin, and the smell of blood flooded your senses. you vomitted. but he coaxed you into eating more, told you about all the imperfections inside the human body while he was at it. it was like a switch inside of you had flipped. this world, these people, were not good for their imperfections. and with every time you father spoke to you, every time he coaxed you into eating till you took a bite yourself, you were diving deeper into how you could find a solution to that. how you could fix them. you could make them into dolls, you thought. finally make them BEAUTIFUL.