The Man (Puppet Boy Prequel)

12.

"WAKE UP, my beautiful Puppet Boy."

Tommy peeled his eyes open. Instead of waking up to his wonderful creator like he expected, he saw the dead eyes of Julie staring back at him.

Her cold body was pressed against his, her mouth was open with dried blood trickling from the corner of her lips, and her limp arm was slung around his neck. The metallic scent of her blood that was beginning to coat his bare torso as well her own and the stench of her skin made his heavy breaths turn to desperate retches.

"Get her off! Get her off of me!" Tommy screamed, his voice echoing in the spacious, dark room. "Help! Sir, help!" he cried again.

He tried to helplessly thrash his arms, attempting to push her away but his limbs were entirely lifeless.

He had almost forgotten about what happened before he fell unconscious: the numbing, the operation, the loss of his kneecaps. With each quick breath he inhaled, memories of his own bones being cut and taken from his body flashed through his mind, and he could feel himself getting increasingly lightheaded. To add onto his anxiety, Julie's body was lifted a bit from the ground and thrown on top of him.

His creator chuckled from behind him, clearly amused. He flicked a brighter light on as he listened to his puppet scream for help.

When Tommy pleadingly glanced up at him, his creator was standing there with curled lips and sparkling eyes. He was clad in different attire - a nice pair of dress pants and a sweater vest with a crisp button down shirt beneath it.

"Why, my beautiful Puppet Boy, that is your wife. Why would I get her off of you?" his creator asked as he tilted his head.

Tommy couldn't stop crying, hot tears were streaming down his cheeks as he tried to shake his body so her heavy corpse would fall off of him. "She's dead!" he sobbed. "Get her off of me, please! She's dead!"

"She is not," his creator answered calmly, his hands on his hips and an amused expression on his aged face. "She is not dead."

Tommy didn't want to protest, as he could practically feel the whip tearing the finally closed wounds across his back open again just by simply denying his creator's claim, but he knew that Julie was very much dead. Her eyes were like nothing he had ever seen before. They weren't honey coloured anymore, and they didn't even glisten in the light of the tiny bulb above them - they were glazed over and dark. It horrified him.

"S-sir," Tommy tried to protest as kindly as possible, all while trying to thrust whatever body parts he had control of away from the dead girl's embrace. "She... she's-"

"Puppets do not die, Puppet Boy," his creator told him. His tone dripped with a sickening sweetness as he knelt down, moving closer to Tommy.

Tommy watched his creator's wrinkled finger curl beneath his jaw, tilting his chin up towards his gaze. His creator kept his loving eyes on his creation as he slowly brought his fingers down the slope of Tommy's neck.

"Puppets do not die," his creator told him again. "They live forever. That is why they are so much fun."

Tommy was captivated, his breath steadying beneath the comforting touch of his creator.

"But... but she... she- she's not a puppet," Tommy said accidentally, instantly regretting his words. When he opened his mouth to apologize, he was interrupted by his creator.

"Kiss her," his creator ordered promptly, his fingers beginning to press against Tommy's neck. They wrapped around the base of his throat for a quick second before they traced the dip of his collarbone, as if to warn Tommy of what would come if he disobeyed his orders.