[He makes himself watch and he knows his heart isn't dead. If he could have killed it, he would have done it a long time ago. But through everything, it has reminded him, stubbornly, that there are those he cares about.
It never seemed to matter that they didn't care about him. He could pretend, for awhile, that they did, at least. Until they rejected him soundly, of course. Then he didn't know what to do. Killing them hadn't made him feel better, so what then? Keep them as a doll? As a puppet? That can't last forever.]
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It never seemed to matter that they didn't care about him. He could pretend, for awhile, that they did, at least. Until they rejected him soundly, of course. Then he didn't know what to do. Killing them hadn't made him feel better, so what then? Keep them as a doll? As a puppet? That can't last forever.]
No. [And not because he lost an arm or his life.]