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The Devil Made Dot

The scary little girl twirled her pigtails and cried.

"I'm sad. I don't want my heart to feel this anymore, I think I'll take it out."

The dagger hurt going in but after that it was numb. Dot's fingers pulsed and pumped with the beating muscle in her hand.

"It is the metaphorical heart not the physical one." The calming voice of the master said without so much as a glance towards Dot.

Her time on earth was short as time goes. But as she put the bloody heap back in her chest. Bone and body healing with gargles and winces until she was whole again. Although 'whole' didn't feel as comforting as being whole should feel. It was still broken, still breaking, relentlessly and without mercy.

"What is the cure? Master?"

"There is no cure. The treatment to make it bearable is time."


"Time will make your memories fade and fill your life with new focus."

"Time." What a horrible answer. What a foul cruel remedy. One can not control time, harness it, utilize it to their needs. It is awful, it is low, impartial and cold.

It won't speed up for me. It will continue on its endless river while my agony devours my will to exist.

The eerie little girl twirled her pigtails and cried.

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