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.