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Taken apart and put back together, taken apart and put back together, pieces pulled out and put back in. It's never ending.
Poppy feels it less every time. Physically, at least.
Mentally?
Her fury grows every day.
Fury at the scientists, the doctors, at whatever forces up above that let this go on. She hates them. But most of all…
She hates him. The Prototype--her father's murderer.
Elliot Ludwig would never have let this happen. He would never have let the factory turn into this horrible nightmare. He would have protected the toys, the orphans…he would have protected her.
Poppy hasn't shed a tear since she'd been human. She can't. But she's so often felt like she's about to, especially as of late. Her body trembles as sobs overtake her, but the tears won't fall.
Maybe it would bring her some peace if they did.
Rrrrring! Rrrring!
She jumps, sucking in a shuddering breath as the ringing phone pulls her out of her spiral. She clears her throat, instinctively wiping at her eyes even though she knows they're perfectly dry. She grabs the phone from under her bed, holding it in both hands. It's not much bigger than a normal phone, but it feels comically oversized in her small form, especially with her hands being so tiny.
But she's used to it. At this point, she's been a doll longer than she had ever been human, after all.
"O-Ollie?" she answers, her voice still shaky.
"Poppy! Hi…are you…are you doing okay?" he asks.
He seems to always know when Poppy's been taken to one of the…procedures. But he and Poppy have both agreed it's probably for the best she not know the specifics of how he gets such knowledge.
Poppy hesitates, then sighs softly, shaking her head. "No," she says glumly. "I…I don't know how much more of this I can take, Ollie…"
"Poppy, I--"
"It's all his fault," she mutters abruptly, her voice shaking despite her attempts to steady herself.
"Doctor Sawyer?" Ollie asks.
"No! HIM! The Prototype!" she snaps irritably, only to wince at her own harsh tone.
"The Prototype?" he repeats, a bit of incredulity actually breaking through his usual neutral tone. "The scientists are the ones who--"
"Dad would never have let them!" she cuts in furiously. "He wouldn't! Ollie, you know he wouldn't!" she cries desperately. Ollie had told her he'd never met Elliot Ludwig. "Before my time", he'd said. But everyone in the factory knows how great a man Ludwig had been. Someone as upstanding as him would never have allowed these horrors to go unchecked. They scientists know they're spitting on his grave with every experiment run…and they do it with glee.
The phone lets out a staticky crackle, and Poppy worries the line's about to go dead again.
"…Right," Ollie's voice manages to break through the static, if only just.
"If he were alive…if the Prototype hadn't--" she says, her voice trembling. "We wouldn't BE here right now! We wouldn't be poked and prodded and cut--Dad would never allow those doctors to hurt us! To hurt ANYONE!" she cries shrilly, her voice breaking.
"Poppy--"
"I-I want…I want to kill him, Ollie!" she cries, spitting the confession out like a bitter poison.
"…Kill him?" he repeats. The boy's tone is somewhat flat as it often is, making it hard to tell if he's aghast or merely curious at the statement.
"Yes!" she hisses vehemently. "If I weren't stuck as a stupid little porcelain doll, I'd--" She cuts herself off, her jaw clenching in frustration.
"You'd…what?" he asks, his voice sounding strangely quiet.
Poppy takes a breath and lets out a long sigh. She adjusts her position, the phone on her lap and her forehead resting against it, and for a moment she pretends she's leaning against a real person, a real friend, here in the room with her.
"…I don't know," she finally admits. She knows, in her heart of hearts, that she doesn't have the stomach to actually take a life with her own hands. Changing them from tiny porcelain doll hands to giant steel claws wouldn't change that. "I-I just…I want him to pay," she says softly. Her shoulders shake in a small sob. "I wish he was dead," she says in a thick voice, and even after everything, a part of her recoils at the ugliness of that wish.
The phone is silent.
Poppy lifts her head, pulling away from the phone to try to see if the call had been disconnected, but the light's still on. Just as she's opening her mouth to ask if Ollie's still there, the phone crackles to life again and Ollie speaks.
"…So do I."