leilastarveil

[leilastarveil]

Vtuber character information

Full Name: Leila Starveil

Age at death: 20

Year of birth: 1833

Year of death: 1853

Gender: Female

Physical appearance:

Leila has hip length, messy blonde hair with strands longer on her forehead, where she has dyed purple strands. She also has two dyed strands on each side of her hair. Her doll body is a bit shorter than her former human body, being 5’6 while it used to be 5’9. She assumes it’s because the dollmaker began working on the structure of it earlier on in her life when she wasn’t fully grown, so he didn’t really know how tall she’d end up being. Despite still not being short, she has a bit of a complex about her height and wishes she would’ve remained the same height. Even with the height difference, she still looks to be the same age as she was when she passed. Her body is a bit on the curvy side, and she has a pale skin tone. Her eyes are a striking red, and even in her doll form, she has the detail of everpresent bags under her eyes that came from the many sleepless nights she’d frequently have before her passing. Leila’s doll body was created by the dollmaker from a porcelain head, hands and feet for the sake of these parts looking more human, while her body is made out of leather on the outside and a wooden skeleton on the inside with flexible joints to promote more realistic, smooth movement. Despite her being made with material that are normally very fragile, she found that over time, tears and cracks can regenerate, most likely because of the presence of a soul in the body. Though the time required can take a while depending on how big the damage was, lowest amount of time being a few months, and the highest can even take years or decades. Her clothes tend to be shades of red and purple most of all, but she also wears pink and light blue quite often. Only recently was Leila able to begin wearing midnight blue again, due to a rather traumatic association she has had with the color. She enjoys wearing dresses that are extravagant and long, reminiscent of the style of aristocrat clothing from back when she was alive, showing her nostalgia for times when she lived far more comfortably than she does now. Interestingly enough, she either wears the aforementioned fancy clothing, or childish looking pajamas with bunny slippers, there isn’t any in between for her. Leila is also able to morph her face to show complex expressions due to her soul possessing the doll, although there are no actual physical articulated joints in her face that could allow her to do so. Still, because she wasn’t very expressive even before dying, her expressions tend to be limited, making the few that know she’s a doll assume she’s not physically capable of more than she shows.

Note: Below is Leila’s appearance on the apps REALITY and Hyper. Once I finish creating her Vroid model, I’ll add it here!

Hobbies:

Painting, dollmaking, knitting, reading, fiction writing, performance art, dancing, digital art, playing video games (especially horror games, visual novels and mobile gacha games), livestreaming

Personality:

Leila is an introverted person who tends to keep to herself in her day to day life, though she paradoxically deeply yearns for personal connections. She tends to prefer to communicate her emotions and thoughts to people in the form of art because it feels so much less confrontational than simply talking about them. After getting over her stage fright, she began taking comfort in performing on a stage for people, being especially good at acrobatics, dancing and acting. She used to make a living out of performing after turning into a doll and joining a circus troupe, but these days she tends to participate in this passion through streaming online. Despite looking like a serious, gloomy person, she loves humor and likes using it as a coping mechanism whenever she’s stressed. Leila needs freedom above else, not being able to stand the feeling of being controlled or manipulated. She’s a bit… Directionally challenged, let’s call it, having extreme difficulty spacially orienting herself even in the context of 3D videogames, far more in real life. Despite being very inventive and sharp, her usually having her head in the clouds can lead her to look airheaded. For someone who used to do acrobatics professionally, she can also be surprisingly clumsy when she’s too deep in her own thoughts. Leila is incredibly emotional, and although she hides it from people, this shows pretty often in how she plays video games. For example, for gacha games, she often ends up not waiting to have enough in game currency for the full pull that gives her an extra character, simply too excited to get a character earlier, despite it being objectively a bad decision. It’s something she works on, with minimal success. Leila is often plagued with anxiety, especially in social situations. This used to be true also when she was a human, but especially now that she’s a doll. She specifically limits social interaction with people to limit the chances of them realizing she’s not human, and whenever she does interact with them, she not only has the baseline social anxiety she always did but is also incredibly anxious over being caught, fearing most of all the specific scenario of being sent to a lab to be watched 24/7 and experimented on. She also is very afraid of fire considering how flammable she is, to the point that cooking is an incredibly stressful experience that she always avoids if possible. Leila has some severe trust issues, resulting in her being very attached and clingy to the few people that she does trust. Sometimes she has a selective memory, only remembering details of her past that aren’t unpleasant, and other times, she also has periods of thinking over her past far too much to the point she can’t focus on the present or future. Her trying to forget is especially evident when it’s about her former mentor that betrayed her, The Dollmaker. She doesn’t remember many details about him, not even his name.

Links: Chapter One of her backstory | Chapter Two of her backstory coming soon! | Linktree for all of my platforms | Spotify playlist for Leila

[leilastarveil]

Chapter 1: The doll’s wish (Vtuber character lore)

A/N:

Hi there! Thanks for taking a look at my little story! First of all I’d like to start with a bit of info. This post details the backstory of Leila Starveil, my vtuber character. I used to be a Twitch vtuber a while ago, but I since then wanted to start over again with a character that better represents me and that I care about more! I hope you enjoy the story as much as I did writing it! I uh… Took an embarrassingly long amount of time to complete this actually, ahah. Annyhow, currently I’m in the process of making the Vroid model for her and I will debut on Twitch as soon as I’m done, but before then I will occasionally stream on the platforms REALITY and Hyper to sort of get back in the rhythm of streaming and also showcasing the way I hold streams to you guys, without having to show you my cringe-worthy old stream VODS lmao.

Links: Post with general information on Leila | Lintree for all of my platforms | Spotify playlist for Leila

TW: This story includes themes of emotional and physical abuse from a parental figure, murder with a fairly detailed scene of the main character dying, and swearing. …Yeah uh, swearing doesn’t sound that bad compared to the other two things I stated, but hey, that can bother people too so I thought I should put it out there.

In this chapter:

Leila is a lonely aristocratic girl that never truly fit who spent most of her early years trying to perfect her artistic skills under the teaching of what seemed to be a kind, skilled artist. Unfortunately, he ended up hurting her far more than becoming the father figure she lacked and hoped he’d be. His concept of perfection is a strict one, and she tries to follow it as much as she could all her life, but eventually his harsh criticism ended up being far too much for her to be happy. She tries to escape this life and tries to make a new one with her closest friend, Maria, but this unfortunately ends in her premature death. In her last moments Leila deeply wishes for a second chance, and though she gets it, it’s not in the form she expected it to be in. Instead of surviving in her own body, she now resides in a life-sized doll of herself. If she is able to get out of her unfortunate current situation, she could find Maria and escape to a better life with her. Whether she is able to, she doesn’t know for certain.

Tap on keep reading if you’d like to see the whole chapter!

Leila had a very comfortable upbringing, at least in terms of food and shelter. The wealth and influence her family had rivaled the weight of their expectations, a sack of boulders she had to carry on her back with every passing day. But still, this was a long, long time ago, long enough to make her miss and have a clouded sense of nostalgia over the perfect cushion quality of her bed, the spacious room she could work on her art in, and the plentiful varieties of food that she didn’t even have to work for. Despite the inaccurate perspective she has of her life now, back then she was a deeply unhappy, lonely child. Oftentimes, good things bring on the horrible, and it was that very way for her. What she lacked was warmth. Not the kind that comes from a fireplace, or the kind you get from laying beneath a comfortable, cloud like blanket in bed, it was the human kind that she yearned for. Her parents never gave her any love, never treated her as anything more than something to bargain off in a mutually beneficial marriage one day. They never took her emotions or hobbies seriously, and even discouraged focusing on them as much as they could, saying she always had her head in the clouds, that she should focus on others rather than the things she loved to do. The truth was a fairly ironic one, because a big part of the reason why she liked art as much as she did was because it was a way to connect with others. It was a way for her to communicate her feelings in a way that she was never allowed to at home, to be truly and honestly herself. She needed that sense of self, needed to perserve it in whatever way she was capable of. The outside world was a place she could escape in, and although actually talking to other people was incredibly difficult, showing off the dolls and paintings she spent a long time learning how to make properly was a big joy of hers. One day, she came across a man that others found strange but admittedly talented, someone she already considered a great artist. To say he was a hermit would be a severe understatement. He never wished to speak to anyone in town, and really only left his home to sell his art or buy food and supplies for painting and dollmaking. Leila saw his art, and she was astonished. She knew the second she saw the similar sadness and loneliness she had in his works, and how beautifully made they were, that she wanted be the kind of artist he was. She excitedly showed him her art one day when she built up the courage to, asking him if she was any good. The painting was incredibly detailed for something made by a girl her age, and he noticed the all too familiar sadness and melancholy in every stroke. Surely, if he could guide her, she’d surpass his abilities one day. So, he started giving her lessons every week to reach just that.

It was a perfect circumstance for the both of them; she had the father figure that she always wished for that could mentor her in her greatest passions, painting and doll making, and he finally had the child he could never have. The death of his wife took a great toll on him, leading him to hate those around him. Everyone just reminded him of how much better and kinder his dearly departed was, so he wanted to have nothing to do with them. The dollmaker chose to live in a modest house outside of town, where he was far enough from everyone to be able to focus on his work. He always wanted to have a child with his wife, and in a strange, sick way, now he could pretend that he did.

The girl didn’t immediately notice his flaws, but in time, she realized just how many flaws he tended to see. He was a compulsive perfectionist with most everything, but especially art, since he considered it sacred. Not only was he so fixated on improving his own works to the point that he would scrap perfectly beautiful pieces all day and night, but he did the very same with Leila. While she was admittedly getting unhappier as time went by, she was still a fairly young child. Leila already had strict parents, so having no close friends to compare backgrounds with, for all she knew this kind of behavior was normal. Unfortunately for the dollmaker, that couldn’t have possibly lasted forever. As Leila grew older, and eventually turned 18, she realized how little memories she had with any people other than her family and her mentor. As much as she wanted to have a friend that truly understood her, she always had a low self-esteem that was made even worse by the harsh criticism she received on a regular basis. She was deeply afraid that if she revealed her true self to others in conversation rather than through art, they would immediately reject her. Plus, she was so focused on improving her art, now obsessed with being perfect just like the dollmaker, so she barely had the time to socialize to begin with. Leila was hoping that through her mentorship she could be more herself than before, but it seemed to have the exact opposite effect.

Maybe unlike him, perfection wasn’t what she wanted most of all. She was only aiming for it to receive what she truly wanted, love and acceptance. But it didn’t seem like she would receive that with her parents, or the dollmaker. Then maybe she would be wise to look elsewhere. She wasn’t willing to admit it at first, but her pure admiration and respect for him was now muddled with resentment.

Leila did something that she never thought she could achieve, and that was making a friend her age she could confide in. A girl of similar social stature to her that was usually reserved, but on the inside was down to earth and warm, just like she was. Leila talked about her life up to that point, and about the many things that weighed on her mind, both at home and in her art lessons. Her new friend, Maria, loved a form of art herself, though it admittedly came in a very different form. She was incredibly passionate about acting and performance art, and especially loved going the concept of being a part of a circus. Maria was more of an extrovert, so it wasn’t much of a surprise she’d be interested in such a thing. Leila wondered if she could be capable of something like that. Because in all honesty, these days, she was wondering if she was even fully capable of the things she already dedicated her life to. Being in front of all those eyes… It’d be impossible for them to not notice cracks in her “perfection”. Still, the concept of being loved and admired while being in front of people for once was a tempting one. Maybe she needed something like that.

She thought loneliness was the culprit to her depression, which was likely true, though in reality that was hardly the last thing that affected her in her day to day life. Making connections was difficult for her, but she was able to to befriend Maria. Now, Leila had something to compare her life to. She slowly realized that the way she was treated wasn’t normal in the slightest. The dollmaker suggested their apprenticeship should continue longer a while before, and she agreed. A part of her started to regret her decision. Still, Leila assumed (or it would be better to describe, hoped) that her being an adult would mean she’d be respected a bit more, that’d she’d be treated a bit nicer by him at least, if not her parents.

That, unfortunately, just wasn’t the case.

Two years passed, and she turned 20. Her mentor was the same as he always. And not only were her parents their usual selves, but now that she was of age, they were more hellbent than they ever were into making her marry a pompous stranger with even more money than their family had. Nothing was getting better. In fact, she was sure she’d live a miserable life where she would be preoccupied molding herself to others wishes whether she stayed with her strict parents that never truly saw her as a person, or if she left with her mentor, someone who cared for her art, but to the point of demanding her to reach an impossible perfection. At some point, his obsessions began disgusting her. She deeply wished she could’ve said something, that she could’ve defended herself when he’d barate her for her mistakes. But she was afraid to. She wasn’t sure what she was afraid of exactly, because he never harmed her before, but in her was a deep, primitive fear whenever she even imagined standing up to him. The need to retaliate in some way got so bad that her mind started working towards finding something, anything she could do, no matter how small and insignificant her temporary solution would be. It was petty, really, what she decided to do. While her mentor wasn’t around, Leila sneaked up to one of his paintings, one that he expressed great pride over. She added one single small black line with the smallest brush she could find, in an area of the piece where the likelyhood for him to notice were slim. She didn’t even want him to notice at all, and it was unlikely for him to. Still, the concept of her being able to alter one of his pieces and make it “imperfect” as he often altered hers to make them what he considered to be perfect, it gave her an immense amount of satisfaction. It was a temporary satisfaction to ease the stress she was under.

Maria made a suggestion to her. She was frankly as sick of the mundane, limiting lifestyle they had as Leila was, and it lead her to suggest something Leila didn’t even consider. Running away. As much as home was suffocating, the young artist wasn’t one to make rash, impulsive decisions that could very negatively effect their lives. She deeply wanted freedom, yes, but that would come with the cost of leaving behind the comfort and security that her family’s money brought. She’d need to live a completely different life. …But still, Leila wouldn’t be alone. Maybe, just maybe, having the only person that she felt she could be herself around would be enough to help her adapt to what the future would bring.

Eventually, Leila realized the best thing she could do for herself. She respected the dollmaker, initially seeing him as a free soul that could, in turn, free her. But in actuality, all that she did was leave one bird’s cage and enter another. She loved him as one would love their father, and really, deep down, she couldn’t shake off her attachment to her parents despite their lack of involvement in her life. She loved them, too. It hurt her, but it was a matter of choosing which poison to go with. A free life where your tomorrow is uncertain, or letting yourself be everyone’s doll to ensure you won’t ever need for food or shelter. What seems prefarable can depend on each person, and for Leila, she realized she’d want to leave above all else. If she would be cornered, she promised herself that she would find an escape, no matter how difficult it could be.

She tried to muster every bit of courage she was capable of, and, with an anxious mind, packed her bags in the dead of night. Her guilty conscience nagged at her in the back of her mind when she stole a good amount of her mother’s and father’s money from their wallets, but she knew she’d need it if she wanted to survive on her own. She wasn’t foolish enough to think that her parents would at all understand her leaving (plus, she couldn’t risk them finding out she stole money), so clearly, she didn’t consider saying goodbye to them as an option. Would the same apply to the dollmaker, she wondered. Leila didn’t think he’d react too badly, at least not as badly as her parents. Afterall, he was her teacher, not her parent. This kind of relationship doesn’t come with the assumption you would stick around them and keep contact forever. Still, Leila couldn’t help but have a bit of an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach at the thought of confronting him like this. Maybe if she was as headstrong as Maria, she could’ve done this far more easily. As much suffering as her mentor caused her, she felt guilty just leaving without saying a thing. Before meeting up with Maria to leave, she dropped by his home, fully expecting him to be in a deep sleep at this hour of the night. She neared a table in the atelier part of his home where they worked on their art everyday, unable to avoid glancing around in a melancholic nostalgia at her surroundings. The basement was specifically used as storage for art supplies and completed works, yet due to how disorganized the two were, boxes of threads and painting supplies littered floor and tables nonetheless. It was funny. Wasn’t Leila leaving because she was miserable here, along with at her own home?

As soon as Leila placed the goodbye note down without even looking its way, a specific memory came to her, one that wasn’t from too long ago. The painting… She vaguely remembered it being in that very pile. Looking back, it was kind of cowardly of her. Instead of doing something to actually improve her life, she wanted to scratch the itch of revenge just a bit, enough to maintain her sanity for a while longer. She didn’t solve anything. Did he even notice? He didn’t say anything up until now, so most likely not. When he would notice, though, he’d know it was her. Leila didn’t want to leave things like this. With a guilty expression, she knelt down in front of the pile, looking for the canvas that she needlessly stained. Aha, there it is. She knew it was somewhere in that area. Leila set the canvas on one of the work tables, quickly grabbing a set of paints to cover the black line with. If she did a good job, it would be like it never happened at all. To her shock and horror, she heard something. Creaking from upstairs, no doubt from footsteps. The wooden floor boards ensured that there would be no possibility of moving in here without making some noise. Good because she’d be able to instantly hear if her soon to be former teacher woke up, God awful because she herself inevitably made some noise that most likely lead to him awaking to begin with. Leila rushed to pick up the surprisingly heavy canvas and set it down under a few other paintings, as gently as possible as to not break it or any other piece. Her head snapped upwards in alarm as the dollmaker began walking down the stairs. He stopped mid way through, eyeing her in absolute confusion. She was given a key so she could come over and work on projects even when he’d be away, so her being able to get in the house to begin with wasn’t strange. What was strange to him no doubt was why she’d come there at such a late hour.

“Sir! Uh.. How did you sleep?” Leila sheepishly smiled, as if she didn’t look completely suspicious with beads of sweat staining her face and her hands behind her back like she was a child that had just broken a family heirloom.

“Well enough, I suppose…” He kept advancing downwards on the staircase. When he reached the last step, he looked towards her again, concern creeping in on his face. “Are you alright? You never come over so late at night.” He paused, eyes narrowing as he got lost in thought for a moment. “Is this about your parents?” Leila’s heart ached. He seemed genuinely concerned for her. Truly, as harsh as he often was, he never experienced this kind of care from her parents. A part of her began questioning if she still wanted to leave. Without meaning to, her eyes darted towards the stack of paintings and remained on them. Quite a bit of them were made by her. Leila would spend hours working on something, only to have the dollmaker force him to discard it and start over again. The only way she was still able to finish so many things was because she was pressured to work to improve constantly, to the point she’d barely do anything else. Suddenly, she remembered how painful her time here has been. After enough familiarity, it’s easy to let nostalgia cloud your vision. Leila knew that for her happiness’ sake, she should never let that happen. “Leila? Why are you looking there?” The dollmaker walked closer, making her body tense up in anxiety. He’d notice the slightest differences in her bahavior. Truly, he had the eye of a critic.

Suddenly, he went completely quiet.

Leila looked to him, biting her lip nervously. The 40 year old had picked up the piece of paper while she was avoiding eye contact. He must’ve already read it now, because his eyes only stared at the center, lifelessly and emotionlessly.

“Leila…’ He looked up with a serious expression. “You never mentioned planning to leave.”

“W-Well, uh, it was kind of a spur of the moment thing-“

“And you wanted to tell me through a letter? You didn’t want to give me a chance to even respond to you?” The beginning signs of him losing his temper were rearing their head. His expression wasn’t exaggerated, but it was accusatory. If Leila didn’t know him so well, she would’ve underestimated the feeling stirring up in him. They usually take a while to fully erupt.

“I’m really sorry, but… I knew you’d get mad. I needed to at least give you a letter, I didn’t feel right leaving just like that.” This was the only thing Leila could say in response. She couldn’t say that she fully expected him to freak out, to be beyond angry, but that was more accurately what she assumed. She looked downwards, too anxious to maintain eye contact. In avoiding eye contact, she made a horrifying realization.

In her rush to hide the painting, she didn’t even properly hide the part with the line underneath the canvas above it. It was jutting out, ready to be noticed and gawked at by the dollmaker. It’s almost like she wanted to self-sabotage, with how stupid of a mistake she considered it to be. Quickly, she looked away to avoid suspicion.

“You never had to make money to sustain yourself. You don’t know how cruel the life outside a mansion’s walls is. Do you expect to be able to fend for yourself?”

Leila couldn’t hold herself back from looking up at him when she heard his words. “How am I supposed to learn to fend for myself if I never experienced the world for myself?”

He groaned in frustration. Over time, it seems more and more like he was actively trying to calm himself down, to minimal success. “Okay, clearly you’re doing this because of your parents, right? So like every teenager you wanted to run away. Let me go with you, at least. Don’t be stupid. We both know you’re not fit to survive on your own .” Leila’s eye twitched, a feeling of anger bubbling inside her that mirrored the man fully. The dollmaker loved nothing more than to make her feel useless. Her mind drifted back to her past, remembering the many situations where she wanted to do something on her own, as insignificant as buying art supplies, and he demanded he’d go with her because either she wouldn’t get the right kind, she’d get attacked, she’d get lost, whatever other ludicrously unlikely scenerio he could make up. Leila was a 20 year old, yet she felt like she had the life experiences of an overprotected 14 year old. She couldn’t stand it anymore, frankly.

“I’m an adult. I feel like you keep forgetting that. I’m not an idiot, I’m not weak, and I’d really like to see the world for myself for once so I can actually see what I want to do with my life.”

“Don’t you fucking talk back to me!” With gritted teeth, the man walked forward and grabbed onto Leila’s shoulders roughly. Her heart beat rapidly against her ribcage, her whole mind overtaken with fear and unpleasant thoughts about what he could do. He never did anything to hurt her physically before… But in that moment, she was convinced he would. How could she not, with how he was behaving? “I feel like you keep forgetting you need me. Don’t get fucking cocky. You’re talented, but you’re so far from perfect! You need me to refine you, you need me to-“

“Well maybe I don’t want to be perfect!” Leila surprised even herself with the sudden raise in her tone. The girl was deeply afraid for her life, but even that didn’t prevent her from impulsively talking back. Maybe it was years of staying quiet finally catching up to her, reaching their limit. She never showed such outright anger to him before. Maybe knowing she’d be leaving soon also got her confidence she wouldn’t otherwise have. “Hell, I-I, I don’t even know how you keep expecting me to reach perfection. I’m a human. Humans can’t be perfect.” Leila began stuttering when her rational side reminded herself that she may need to be careful with her words, despite how much he deserves to be yelled at. She looked at him, squirming in his hold. He only tightened his grip, making her freeze.

The dollmaker paused. Despite looking at her with such love and worry only moments earlier, all that was in his eyes were hatred. Leila felt like there were two very different people inside of him taking turns to be in control of his body. She never knew which she’d get, though talking to him this way almost guaranteed she’d get his less kinder face. “You’ve changed. You used to be such a good girl. Now you’re filled with pride, it disgusts me!” Really, if anything happened, it’s just that she sneaked out of his control and has her own thoughts for one. So it makes perfect sense he’d be angry like this, when he’s losing control. Leila asked herself if she’d really like to keep being on the sinking ship that is this conversation, especially when she has a ticking time bomb right next to her, waiting to be seen by the dollmaker. If she were to try to better hide it under the pile of art, then she’d only attract unwanted attention towards what she’s trying to hide.

“Look, I’m sorry I made you angry, I really wanted to have a normal conversation with you, even though from the beginning I knew you’d react like this. Can we just… Be nice to each other? I don’t want my last memory here to be like this.” Leila tried to keep her voice steady, though in all honesty, she still felt absolutely terrified of the man in front of her. Maybe it wasn’t exactly the best wording she could possibly go for. You’d think so much experience in walking on eggshells around him would make her good at it, but still, it didn’t work. If anything, he seemed even more hurt and offended.

“Oh no, Leila. You’re not leaving. We’re not done here.” Words uttered with unwavering confidence, something both scary and insulting to have when it comes to someone else’s decision. Knowing there’s no way to convince someone as stubborn as her former mentor, the only way out would be by forcing her way through. With adrenaline pumping in her veins, Leila tried rushing past him towards the door.

That was short lived, unfortunately. It didn’t take long for him to reach her, grabbing onto her arm roughly. She struggled with all her might, but it wasn’t enough. She froze when she heard a calm question from the dollmaker. “Leila, come here and take a look at something with me.” It was downright eerie, the way he was talking. It reminded her of times when there was peace between them, when he was in one of his more relaxed moods. He could switch so seamlessly… Why didn’t Leila notice something was so wrong about him earlier? Even as a child she should’ve had the survival instincts to run away, yet she trusted him more than she did her own father. She scolded herself for being this naive. She didn’t reply, only giving him a confused stare. Seeing a general lack of reaction, he decided to instead pull at her arm, showing he was still in the same state of anger, despite acting differently. What his thought process was, was something beyond her. He lead her back to the pile of canvases, making her heart beat even heavier in anxiety. Did he notice? He must’ve… After all, he directed his gaze to the source of her worries, then to her. “You really thought I didn’t notice. How fucking idiotic. You really thought I wouldn’t check on the state of my most prized possessions.”

“W-What are you talking about…?” Leila played dumb, a game she was rather good at. Not good enough to fool him, though. He was convinced, his expression not showcasing any doubt whatsoever.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know! The painting, the fucking painting, ‘Ever-watching Moon’, you ruined it, didn’t you?” He grit his teeth, letting out a shaky breathe. “I saw it months ago… But like a moron I actually believed in you enough to think you wouldn’t do this. But seeing the way you’re acting now, you fucking did it, I know!”

“I-I swear, I didn’t do it intentionally, it was a mistake, I-“ Leila’s stomach sank even just admitting it was done by her, despite still lying about whether or not it was a mistake. She was apparently right to get a sinking feeling, because in a quick motion, she was slapped in the face with so much force she stumbled and nearly fell. She cowered, breathing shakily and holding her cheek where she was hit. She made herself smaller, unable to convince herself to look up to him anymore.

“Shut up! Shut up, I hate lies… That painting means a lot to me, and you stained it for no reason. Why the fuck did I ever trust you?” Leila was asking herself the same question. Why did she trust him? “I can’t believe you’d do that. It was perfect, it was a masterpiece, you know how difficult it is for me to reach the same perfection…” Tears started collecting in the man’s eyes. “The same as her. You disrespected it. Her perfection.”

“H-Her…?” Leila couldn’t help but peer up, looking confused. She was even more surprised to see him cry, though it didn’t make his anger any less present. He didn’t seem to want to answer. His eyes went blank, almost like he was in a trance. The dollmaker was always stuck in the past, but in that moment, it was to the point he wasn’t present in the moment at all. This, albeit being unnerving to see, made for a possible way out. With him so spaced out, she tried to slowly back away from him, hoping she was subtle enough to not be immediately noticed. For a few seconds, it worked, up until he directed his dead stare back to her, looking slightly more “there” than earlier.

“Leila…” She froze up. “Thank you.” The dollmaker gave her an eerie smile, possibly the most lifeless and least happy smile she’d ever see. “You taught me an important lesson. You proved to me that humans can’t be perfect. I thought that she was perfect because she put the work in to reach her state, but that wasn’t the case.” The man’s demeanor made her stuck in place. It was unbelievably unusual, having him suddenly agree with her. He took the canvas that she painted over in his hands. It was… Still fascinating to Leila, how he could lose his mind over something that wasn’t beyond fixing. Maybe it was the simple act of disrespect that offended him so, but still it was an overreaction. …DId he calm down, though? Suddenly his anger seemed to evaporate. “Most of us are like her at first. Like you used to be. But over time, like a flower we wither. Perfection is a temporary, delicate art. I’m sorry I didn’t know this sooner.. For you, and for me.” …His speech was beginning to go back to being absolutely confusing. It seemed like he derived a meaning from what she said that she was regretting instilling in him. “Leila, I’m really sorry for acting that way. I was being unreasonable… Did- Did I hurt you badly?” …Hm. Again, he was showing fatherly concern for her. Thankfully, she might’ve gotten his regular self back… She wasn’t at ease completely, but she felt like she could potentially talk to him now. Which was a relief. As much as she hated him, she also loved him, so didn’t want to end their mentorship like this. It was a complicated emotion. Leila looked downward for a moment to collect her thoughts, then looking up and opening her mouth.

“I’m… Okay, it just stung a bi-“ Leila didn’t have enough time to react, resulting in a sharp, agonizing impact in her head accompanied with her ear-piercing scream. Not that it would be loud enough for anyone to hear, given how far his home was from town. It took a good few seconds for her to even realize what had hit her due to how confused and dizzy the damage caused her. A canvas that shattered in half due to the strength of the hit, the painting on it of a night sky with a moon overlooking the ocean. “Ever-watching Moon”. The titular moon always made her uncomfortable. A huge eye was painted on the surface of it in darker shades than the base of the moon. It watched her in her vulnerable state. It reminded her of him, and it made her feel nauseous. The one who did this to her, the man that was the closest thing she had as a genuine father. She quickly fell to the ground, letting out sounds of pain that were quieter than before as she struggled to even stay conscious.

“I’m sorry, Leila. I should’ve done this sooner, before the outside influenced you and tainted you.” Despite her current state, she couldn’t help but react with an outraged expression mixed with a pained one. He was apologizing for not killing her earlier? She wanted to give such a disgusting, uncaring man a second chance. Truly, she never stopped being naive. She shouldn’t have gone here to begin with, and now, she didn’t know if she would get to get out alive. The dollmaker started dragging her on the ground, making her blood drag across the wooden flooring she spent most of her childhood on. He didn’t care about her. His concern from seconds ago was just to fool her, and who knows if he ever showed genuine concern or affection before. It wasn’t complicated anymore. She despised him. Even his name, even his face, everything about him, she didn’t want to remember it. But even if she were to survive this, could she truly forget it all? The dollmaker dragged her down the stairs of the basement, where they would usually store supplies. He set her down momentarily when he reached a shelf. Leila tried her best to make significant movement, but it only made her feel much more pain. He pushed the bookshelf to the side, then picked her back up.

“W-What are you…” Her eyes widened slightly as she saw what was behind the shelf. A door she never saw before, not once since she was a child. Why was this hidden away?

“Showing you what I worked on for you all these years.” And that was the only form of explanation he gave before he opened the door. Inside there were three dolls, all scarily realistic and life sized. Two wardrobes were on each side of the room, but besides that, it was fully empty. One of the dolls immediately caught her eye. And really, how could it not? The features, the hair, even the kind of clothes she wore, it looked exactly like her. The dollmaker roughly threw her in front of the doll, making her hiss in pain. She was faced with the beautiful gown the creepily accurate doll of her wore without being able to move much at all. She felt terribly uncomfortable being in this room in general, but especially facing that thing. “Humans change. But these dolls will stay the same. The soul, the heart I put into them, it’ll survive after you and I are gone. I just hope that who would find them after we pass will treat them with the kind of respect perfection deserves.” The dollmaker’s words were spoken perfectly calmly, like he was merely making small talk. “My wife… Her passing was a blessing.” The man crouched down in front of her, looking down coldly. “Her pure soul survived. It didn’t have the chance to be tainted.” He smiled and laughed, the sound making Leila shiver. “Unlike yours. Please, talk to your new friends.” He motioned to the dolls. “They make great company.” With that, he got up, then walked away. Panic surged through Leila’s veins as she heard him leave, and shut the door. Not only that, but he also seemed to have pulled the shelf in front of the door yet again. It was clear as day he wanted to make sure she’d die here. He wouldn’t be coming back. He wouldn’t apologize and take care of her wounds. And the more blood she was losing, the more the fear of death maddened her. Her drive for survival was the only thing keeping her from passing out.

…

She looked up to the doll of herself. It seemed to be her current age. The dress she wore was an elaborate one, something she would wear during a ball her parents would hold. It was midnight blue, a similar shade that was used in the Ever-watching Moon. She guessed the lunatic liked that color quite a bit. Leila did too, before now. The doll’s expression was souless. Of course it was souless, it’s a doll, but what made it frightening was the mixture of human features and inhuman eyes. It just smiled, ever so slightly, eyes fixed in front of it. It reminded Leila of the dollmaker. That must be why he enjoyed the company of dolls so much. They were just as souless and heartless as him.

…

“Maria… Oh fuck, Maria, why did I do this to you…” Leila spoke out, though her voice was rather weak. She did feel the need to speak. Ideally, to Maria. Maybe she would think Leila simply ditched her and ran off alone? …Even if she wouldn’t, the fact that she made her worry about her safety would still cause her great guilt. She didn’t know if her parents would look for her, but her friend, she surely would… The thought of her saving Leila somehow was an appealing one, though an unrealistic dream to have.

…

Leila was growing more and more tired of hanging on. But if she could just force her way up, she could cut one of the dresses of the doll before her and wrap the fabric around her head to prevent further blood loss. Still, she didn’t see anything in the room that could be used for cutting… Maybe there would be something in the wardrobes. …That would require getting up. Leila mustered all the strength she had to get on her knees. After a bit of trying, she was able to sit, and then standing by leaning on the doll. …It was too creepy, looking at herself in the eyes. She never really liked herself, at all, so this made the already uncomfortable situation to be in all the more uncomfortable. She tried to switch to leaning on the wall, but she was far, far too dizzy. She fell on the ground again in trying so. The impact wasn’t a pleasant one, when she already was in loads of pain as it was. She tried her best to sit down again, struggling to keep her balance.

…

Leila looked up to the doll, thinking about what the dollmaker had said. They make great company, hm? Spending time while looking at herself in her last moments on Earth wasn’t the most pleasant thing. It made her think about her regrets, about what she could’ve done differently. The person looking back at her, that was the person who foolishly began talking to the dollmaker as a child. The person who still cared about him and trusted him, to the very end. Trusting him ended in her being here, almost passing out and teetering on the edge of life. She hated herself as much as she hated him. And now she’d need to die while being watched by a sick recreation of the person she hated, created by the second person she hated. She deeply wanted to get away from her, but at this point, she was growing too weak to stand, no matter how hard she tried. She felt it and saw it, she lost a lot of blood. Looking down at the pools beneath her she was wondering how she didn’t die already. …Why didn’t she?

She wanted to live. So, so badly. She wanted to be free to run, to have whatever life she wanted. To be able to reject the people that hurt her, to no longer feel sympathy for people who didn’t deserve it. She wanted happiness. God, why couldn’t she have had a chance to get this? She hated herself but she also felt herself hating her circumstance far more.

“Do you deserve this?” Leila asked herself.

She received no answer.

“I…” It was painful to talk, though she deeply wanted to. Maybe being stuck with herself wasn’t so bad. She always had trouble facing herself, and doing it now could give her some form of closure. “I don’t love you… But I don’t want you to die.” She looked up at herself desperately, hoping in her poor state of mind that she would get a response.

She received no answer.

“F-Fuck, please, no, don’t die… You can improve, without needing to be perfect. You won’t get worse, he was fucking stupid for saying that. Please just don’t die… he’s wrong, he’s wrong…” Leila couldn’t sit properly. She ended up leaning onto the doll of herself, grabbing onto it like it was somehow going to save her.

Leila looked up and begged her. “No, no, no… Please don’t.” Maybe she was growing insane, but she felt like there was someone in the doll that could help her. So she kept going, despite there being no answer, again and again. And she did until she felt her conciousness slipping away from her.

…

She felt nothing but calm. No more pain, no more desperation, nothing. Just a clear head, like she had the best sleep of her life. Leila couldn’t see anything but pure darkness. Was she dead? Was that what being dead was like? A few moments passed like this, before her vision returned to her.

…She was… Standing, in the room she was in before. She was standing like nothing was wrong with her. And truly, she had not one bit of pain remaining. Was that some sort of miracle? Did God hear her pleas? Laughter filled the room, as she was unable to hide her joy. The pure bliss was short lived though, because she quickly spotted something disturbing.

There below her, laid Leila herself. In a pool of her own blood, where she was earlier. She was grabbing onto… Leila’s legs. Her grip was still strong, despite obviously not breathing. It took a good few seconds for Leila to fully wrap her head around her realization. She was in the perspective of her doll replica, with her true self laying dead below her.

Was this a dream, or was this real? And if she truly came back like this, could she even escape, or would she be stuck here until the dollmaker decides to check up on her? She truly didn’t want to know what he’d to to her new form, seeing what he did with the last.