Work Text:
In these cursed strings attached
This is how it usually begins, the nightmare never the one to make my heart sing.
The hooks on my body, strung up like a nest puppet, only I am so skinny like a skeleton really. Like. A decoration for some forlorn holiday of sorts.
The muscles no longer there, but then again, my whole body isn’t what it used to be. Loosing limbs never easy and my brain not my own, so why should I really start to care?
But I struggle, I fight back. So guess, I care.
Every single conscious and perhaps even the unconscious moment spent secretly plotting my own escape. But then I think, is this, my fate?
And yet, I plot and plot and plot.
To where, when and why still unclear, as I have no self awareness left that much is clear. I do not feel like my self anymore, guess I said that too before.
Or do I? Do I really feel, something? Something real?
As why else this eternal struggle, this sense of wanting to be free? Somewhere over there without these strings I so fear and feel?
Then I ask myself once again: Who am I?
I know this answer, if only I could remember…
But my brain hurts something awful. Always getting worse when I get closer to the truth. Something I suspect to be that, the truth.
As I do remember, something of it anyway.
This puppet made of meat hung on to these, beasts of strings…
… and yet somehow, I know I have to fight back.
Not a tool, alas, made to be the fool.
But I am a person.
I need to break free.
These strings, cannot hold me any longer as I grow ever so stronger…
And then, I wake up and finally I do see.
The familiar faces staring right back at me.
“Welcome back, dear Echo.”
“Sorry, it was… a bad dream again.”