It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault. It. Wasn't. His. Fault. She had seen the closed sign on
the front door to the toy shop. She'd been the one to try to scam him, claiming
her toy was 'defective'. Demanding a replacement. Defective?! His toy?! Unbelievable. His toys were perfect-
masterpieces, sought out by young and old alike. They were works of art, and the nerve of that
tiny little witch coming in here and claiming his toy was... he couldn't even bring
himself to say the word to himself. It was all her fault really, and now, as
usual, he was left to clean up the mess. Someone would come looking though. There'd
be a missed supper and angry parents, gradually becoming more and more concerned
as the hour became later and later, and eventually, there'd be questions and
investigations. Heaven forbid she actually told someone where she was going, on her
ridiculous mission to return a 'faulty' toy. She'd have to go, but somewhere she wouldn't
be found. Not until he could find a more... permanent means of disposal. Jason racked his brain, avoiding the accusatory
stares of the dozens of handcrafted puppets and dolls that adorned his shop. All of
them were works of art, truly remarkable examples of the finest craftsmanship. Jason
wasn't just the best toymaker in his town, he was likely the best toymaker in Europe.
Probably in the whole of the world. “And now you've gone and ruined all that for me!” ...but there was no response from the corpse, just more slowly spreading crimson across
the shop's floor. Then, an idea struck him. He moved his unwanted guest to the workshop,
returning to hastily mop up the trail left behind. With a reaffirming tug on the front door's
deadbolt, he retired to the workshop. There was a lot of grim work to be done, and the last thing
Jason needed was another unwanted interruption. Days earlier he'd been working on a
large puppet in the shape of a snake. He'd had plans to adorn the puppet with colorful
bead work, which would make the toy snake's scales sparkle in emerald greens in the sunlight.
It would've been a thing of beauty, but now it would become a tool of necessity. The handsaw
would make for quick, if macabre, work, and the remains would go inside the snake. An imperfect
solution, but it only needed to be temporary. He'd cried at first, surprising even himself. It
truly was grim work, and whatever small piece of him that wasn't yet angry at the world had opened
a rather uncomfortable pit deep in his stomach. As he progressed however, he began to fill the pit,
stop it up with anger. Resentment. Indignation. And as he filled the pit inside him, he
likewise filled the snake on his workbench. Just a few small cuts left, then some turpentine
to overpower the acrid smell of blood, and any investigator searching
his shop would be none the wiser. Once the search had died down, he could
arrange for more permanent disposal. How did he get here, mused Jason, fouling what would have been one of
his greatest masterpieces with his sin? Amelia. That's how. Toys were forbidden in his childhood home.
Jason's parents believed frivolity was waste, especially when one could be using that time to
better prepare oneself for a successful future. If no homework was assigned at school,
then rest assured there would be much study waiting for him upon returning home.
If homework was assigned, well, one couldn't receive too much instruction in subjects that
would one day make Jason a great success. For his part, Jason earnestly tried his best
to please his unpleasable parents. At school he earned top marks in all subjects. He may have
been very shy and had great difficulty socializing with the other children, but his behavior was
ever exemplary. His parents often received notes of appreciation from his school teachers,
to which his mother was fond of replying with, “One shouldn't be congratulated for merely doing
what is expected of them in civilized society.” Children, no matter how strictly raised,
are always prone to minor rebellions, and Jason was no different. His took the form
of crafting and hiding small, wooden dolls, which he'd use to play with when he could steal a
few minutes away from under the ever-watchful and disapproving glare of his parents. He cherished
those times, and as he grew older and his rough wooden dolls took ever more fanciful and skillful
shapes, he realized he enjoyed creating them just as much as playing with them. They were
his treasure, and he guarded them jealously. Sweet, little Amelia. She'd always been so
pleasant, since the day Jason met her. Well, the truth is Ameila had always sort of been
there, but he'd never made any effort to approach her- nor her, she. Jason was after all,
the strange, silent, and very curious child, who everyone knew secretly played with
and spent hours whittling small dolls while the other children played together. In truth, it had actually been a concerned teacher
who encouraged the two's formal introduction. Some kind soul had noticed Ameila's kind, warm
heart, and taking pity on Jason's lonely plight, pushed her into befriending
him. She hadn't been wrong, but her misguided act of kindness would help
usher in yet another dark terror into this world. The two became fast friends, even
helping socialize Jason more to his fellow classmates. He showed her- and
only her- his secret doll collection, and other toys too. He even made some
for her, all whittled away in secret, becoming ever more complex and detailed
as the years passed and Jason's skill grew. Ameila was his best friend, and
he wanted to share everything with her. But he refused to share her with anyone else. The first incident was with Jonathan- or was it
Lucy, on the swing set? Jason couldn't remember, but he did remember the intense hot flash
of jealousy when Jonathan grew a little too interested in Amelia's set of colored pencils.
He'd pushed him down the stairs, and Jonathan had even fingered Jason as the culprit. But Jason
was good at remaining... and acting... unseen, and nobody could prove the accusation. Jonathan
had gotten the message clear enough however. Amelia, and her colored pencils were off limits. The truth is it was easy to remain unseen
around Amelia. Or at least, unnoticed, which suited Jason's goals perfectly.
She was always the brightest smile in any room- warmth, like the radiance
of a pleasant summer afternoon sun, radiated from her, and she always had a kind
word for everyone- much to Jason's chagrin. Jason finally had a friend, someone to confide
in, but the truth is Amelia was a lonely girl. Pretty and ever-pleasant, even as
they grew older she'd mysteriously been without any other close friends.
As she entered her teenage years there were certainly suitors, but they always
seemed to quickly become disinterested. Jason though was always there, and she
loved him as one does a dear brother. Jason in turn loved her as best he could,
which was to say less than he loved himself. But certainly more than the mindless fools of the
world. He expressed that love by protecting her, even when she took no notice. Especially from
anyone who might take Amelia's attention and affections away. The world was dangerous, and
people couldn't be trusted. But Jason could be. Only him. Amelia had been especially important to
him when he was kicked out of his home. His parents had insisted on his attendance
to one of England's great universities, places where some of the age's greatest
thinkers and titans of industries had been forged. But Jason had refused.
He didn't want to become a coal baron or great philosopher- he wanted to be
left alone to tinker and make his toys. A simple toymaker carrying forth the family name?
Nonsense. His father hadn't even wasted his breath on disapproving words, he'd merely pointed with
a very stern finger to the open front door. But he'd done it, all by himself. The
world had taken notice of his talent, just as he always knew it would, and his
toy's popularity grew and grew until he finally had his own shop. And now children
came from miles around- collectors too, looking for another finely handcrafted piece of
whimsy for their carefully groomed collection. There was even rumors that toymakers from
Austria were interested in meeting him! None of it mattered much to Jason. He already
knew he was great, he didn't need the world to tell him. If anything, the crowds of dirty, noisy
children and gawking collectors were a bothersome, yet necessary distraction. They kept the
coin flowing, but Jason would much rather have been left alone to work on his toys. All
he needed was the daily visit from sweet Ameila, her approving nod or giggle at some
fantastical new toy he created. If the rest of the world liked it, good for them. But Amelia changed. It had
started with an argument, she'd come to visit him in his
workshop after closing time as usual. “You seem happy, Jason.”
He didn't even look up from his tinkering on the workbench. The puppet he
worked on was still in its initial stages, but already was beginning to
take on its serpent shape. “Of course I am. Shop's closed
and I can finally work in peace.” “I meant in general. I know your parents were
really hard on you. I'm glad you found this.” She motioned at the workshop around her, shelves
stuffed with finished and unfinished toys. He continued his work, nonplussed as usual. “I wouldn't have gotten here without you. You
were a good friend, always encouraging me.” Though he didn't look up from his work,
Amelia smiled. As far as Jason was concerned, this ranked amongst the greatest
compliments he'd ever given her. “That's why I've always been a good
friend to you too, protected you.” The smile wavered on Amelia's
lips. “What do you mean?” “Do you remember the pink letter?” Amelia's ears
still burned in shame at the memory, almost a full decade later. She'd been fifteen back then,
and written a letter to a boy she'd developed a crush on. Lacking the courage to give it
herself, she'd entrusted a close friend with it. Jason, sensing the opportunity to kill two
birds with one stone, had acted instead. The letter wound up posted on the chalkboard
of the boy in question's classroom, its overly romantic and cringe-inducing amateur
adorations read aloud by the boys of the class. They'd howled in laughter, but the name signed at the bottom of the letter hadn't been
Amelia's. It had been her friend's. The jeers and the taunts proved
so great that her family had been forced to relocate her to a different school. “I tried to teach you back then that you
can't just open up to people like that. People can't see all the places you're
weak. Needy. You didn't learn your lesson, so I had to keep repeating
it, time and time again.” Cold, hard realization slowly dawned
across Amelia's face. All those friends who'd mysteriously drifted away. All the suitors
who'd stopped calling on her. Did Jason really...? “How could you do that...” Unconsciously, she
was already inching towards the shop's door. “I protected you! I've always protected
you! You have no idea what people are like, but you kept putting yourself out there like a
silly little dolt! What was I supposed to do?!” Amelia had rushed out of the workshop
then, tears streaming down her face. That persistent, aching loneliness in her heart,
always surrounded by people yet none ever wanting to draw too close. Now it all made sense. Now she
knew what- or who- had been keeping them away. A month had passed without Amelia's
daily visits, and despite his pride, Jason began to doubt himself. Had he really done
something wrong? Wasn't he just protecting Amelia, who clearly was unable of protecting herself? More to the point, how could she be ignoring him? He'd worked so hard to make sure that
he was the one always there for her. He'd put the toy snake and its brilliant emerald
scales aside and began working on something new. A gift, something to prove to Amelia that he was
sorry. Something so wonderful, so delightful, that she'd have to see that he was the
only person she could truly depend on. The small music box quickly took shape in his
hands, elegantly and exquisitely designed as always- but different too. Even the most casual
observer could quickly tell that this was truly shaping up to be one of Jason's finest pieces
yet. He worked diligently day and night on the box and its many delicate gears and moving parts,
pouring his very heart and soul into the labor. But the box would hold a surprise
inside, what would become without a doubt his finest piece to date- even more
astonishing than the music box itself. A gift within a gift, an incredibly detailed
hand-crafted doll resembling Jason himself. Despite its miniature size, the doll bore a
striking resemblance to Jason, each lock of hair and minor bodily detail carefully etched
onto the soft wood with painstaking care. Admiring his work, Jason began to fit the doll
into its resting place inside the music box. He smiled thinking about how delighted
Amelia would be upon receiving it, surely everything would be forgotten the
moment she received her wonderful gift, only to open it and discover
yet another gift inside! ...but what if she didn't? What if she remained
angry at him or... what if she didn't like it? What if his work wasn't good enough, what
if she secretly thought Jason wasn't very talented at all! What if she threw the box on
the ground in disgust, dashing it to pieces?! Jason pushed the black cloud of
thoughts away. No. Of course she'd like it. She always liked his work. Everyone did. “Amelia isn't interested in
your friendship anymore, Jason.” The words hit him like a sack of bricks.
Amelia's mother stood on the doorstep to their small, modest home. Through
the slightly open door behind her, Jason could see Amelia on the
inside, tears in her eyes. “That's... can I just talk to her,
please?! I made her a present!” Her mother had never cared for Jason.
She remembered the canary incident. It had been a gift from her father, a small
songbird that she quickly grew to adore. Then, one day while Jason was visiting,
the canary went abruptly silent. He'd claimed that the bird had
suddenly gone limp and fell over dead. Amelia's mother always knew better, but couldn't prove it. Now she barred Jason
from entering her home, determined to end the parasitic grip he'd maintained on her
life since they'd met as small children. “Amelia! I made this for you! I'm sorry!”
Jason held the box aloft, towards Amelia through the half-open door, but she simply looked
away. An icy cold hand gripped Jason's heart, and he nearly dropped the delicate
music box. Was this... rejection? Jason didn't remember returning to his shop,
tightly clutching the music box to his chest and desperately trying to avoid weeping on the open
streets. He must have forgotten to lock the door behind him as he stormed into his shop, because
that's how the little girl found her way in. He hadn't meant to hurt anyone. But she'd
been so demanding. She called his work flawed. She said it wasn't good enough. The sound of his name being called
out broke him out of his reverie, and he hastily put the finishing
touches on the now overstuffed snake. Could someone be looking for the little girl
already? Could someone know what he'd done? It took him a moment to recognize
Amelia's voice. Damn it, he forgot he’d given her a key long ago. He
rushed out of the workshop, almost running into her as he passed through the back door behind the
counter customers were not normally allowed to go. “I- I'm sorry to bother you, I
just... I think we should talk.” x
“There's nothing to talk about.” Whatever emotions Jason had been feeling,
he'd stuffed and buried them. He'd done nothing but protect her, and now he regretted
that she'd seen him in his moment of weakness. “No, Jason, you have... you've done things in
my life that-” Amelia paused, smelling the air. The strong smell of turpentine rolled off
Jason in waves, but underneath, something else. Something she'd often smelled at the butcher's
shop. “Jason, why are you sweating so hard?” Jason's shoulders slumped. “There was an
accident. With a little girl. I'd just gotten back from trying to give you my gift and say
I'm sorry and I left the door unlocked I guess, and she barged in here complaining her toy
was defective and demanding a replacement and saying my toys were no good and just... I'm
not sure what happened. She fell. Hit her head.” Amelia's eyes slowly widened.
“Jason... what did you do?” “I... I didn't want to go
to jail. It was an accident, Amelia. But I didn't want to go to jail.” “Jason. What did you do to... where is she
now...?” Her voice was barely a whisper, as if she was afraid to even ask
the question. Or of the answer. “I cut her up. Put her in a puppet. Until
people stop looking! Then I'll... I'll... give her a good burial! I just don't want to
go to jail... it was an accident, Amelia!” “Jason, you have to turn yourself in!
You have to explain what happened!” “Are you crazy?! Do you have any idea
what they'll do to me?! I'll lose my shop, I won't be able to make toys anymore,
they'll throw me in a cell to rot alone!” Amelia had already begun to inch back
towards the front door and away from Jason. “If you don't turn yourself in, I will...” Jason laughed, a harsh, grating sound. Amelia had
never seen him like this before, but strangely, she wasn't surprised. It was as if some part
of her had always known what he was capable of, what lay lurking just below the
surface. It was that part of her that made her reach out
for the nearby screwdriver. “You think you have the nerve to
turn me in? You've always been weak, Amelia. You've always needed people.
That's why I always protected you, tried to make you strong, stand on your
own two feet and not need attention from everyone all the time! You're weak! I'm
the only thing that ever made you strong!” Amelia ran for the front door, but Jason
reached out for her, snatching her by the hair and dragging her back. She spun on
her heel, and acting purely on instinct, lashed out with the screwdriver,
plunging it deep into Jason's chest. Jason froze, staggering on his feet. A
growing look of disbelief blossomed on his face as he slowly stared down at the
long metal tool sticking out of his chest. She had driven it deep, breaking past the rib
bones and plunging it straight though his heart. Amelia stared in horror as Jason staggered a
moment more and then flailed wildly as he fell, knocking over the items on the small counter
to the floor. As he dropped to his knees, the music box crashed onto the floor,
breaking open and sending the small wooden doll with the carefully detailed
likeness of Jason sliding across the floor. Amelia stared down at the doll in horror.
It really did perfectly resemble Jason, it was without a doubt his finest work to date.
But even more shockingly, she realized the doll was bleeding, from the exact same spot in
the chest she'd stabbed the real Jason in. With a cruel sneer, Jason pulled the
long screwdiver out of his heart, tossing it to the floor as he stood on his
feet again. The wooden doll stopped bleeding, and Jason's real wound too began to close up
and heal right before Amelia's shocked eyes. Amelia took a terrified step backwards as Jason
stepped forward and picked up the broken music box and wooden doll, carefully putting the box back
together and securely hiding the doll inside. “I told you you have to protect yourself. You
can't let anyone know your vulnerabilities, your weaknesses. You have to hide them,
keep them away from people. Not unless they've proven they deserve to be that close
can you let them know. Unless they've proven they love you more than anything!” He held the
sealed music box before Amelia. “Only when you know that you're the most important thing in
the world to them, can you trust. Only then.” “This was supposed to be a gift, the greatest gift I could've ever given
anyone. But now I see, you're not worthy.” Jason stepped towards Amelia, forcing her
back and towards one of the toy shelves. “But don't worry, I'll find someone who is.
I'll find someone who actually cares about me, and appreciates everything I do for her!” “Nobody will ever love a monster
like you!” Amelia backed up again, but was stopped by the shelf behind
her. Had Jason always been carrying the bloody hacksaw that was now in
his hand? Amelia couldn't remember.
