Chapter Text
Rage. Hatred. Betrayal. These emotions swarmed through out Dahlia’s porcelain body. All because Huxley had become the Owner’s favorite. With his quiet demeanor, his humble attitude, and helplessness, and the fact that Whiskers also loved him more than Dahlia. But the final straw was when Huxley pointed out to her that she doesn’t understand how the Owner feels, that she blames everyone else for her problems, and that for all she knows, she could be just another possession. Once Huxley said that he didn’t want to be friends anymore, Dahlia snapped. Going to the kitchen, she grabs a knife, then returns to the foyer to Huxley. “You don’t know me!” Dahlia yells. She reveals the large knife and points it at Huxley, causing Whisker to flee. “I was wrong to want friends! I want things to be the way they were!”
The owner, who was watching the whole thing try's to reach for Dahlia who rapidly lunges at Huxley, knocking him to the ground. Her eyes were large but her pupils were pin pricks. One thought echoed through her mind, "He must die! He must die!" Dahlia begins stabbing the puppet. Ripping him to shreds, she stabs Huxley 10 times. All while Whisker watches in horror. After she stops, the gruesome sight of Huxley disfigured, lay before her. His head split in half looking like the theater masks one showed utter fear, the other had no emotion at all. But though no one knew, he was still alive, but in extreme pain.
Whisker then ran out of the house as, Dahlia set the house on fire in an attempt to kill her self. The fire engulfed her dress, hair, and charred the porcelain. But she was picked up and put into a water filled jar. The Owner extinguished the fire and saved Huxley. "i am i-in so much p-pain" The puppet mutters.
“It’s alright. Just relax. I will fix you up.” The owner said, a smile forming on his bearded face.
Huxley’s halved face made a labored attempt to smile. The owner’s attention turned to the jar with Dahlia inside. “Garbage!” The man said before taking the toy out of the water and tossing it in the bin outside. Leaving only her arm sticking out.
He returns to Huxley and finds Whisker cuddling with the wounded toy. “I’ll be okay. I have been th-through worse.” The puppet says weakly before passing out.
Back outside, a disheveled and disgraced Dahlia laments over what happened. She curses her former owner and Huxley in thought. She hated them. She hated them both with every ounce of her sentience. She refuses to accept any fault for what happened. Narcissism and her prideful nature keeps her blinded to her wrong doings. She wishes that the fire had killed her, so she wouldn’t have to endure this hellish fate. Still, time marches on, she has dreams of Huxley getting fully repaired, a pair of legs to walk with, and Whisker sleeping on his lap. A tear drips down the doll’s cracked face. No one will help her now, and with garbage day arriving in two days, she will soon join all the world’s trash in a landfill. Dahlia just waits for her inevitable fate.