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He is the light of my life and if it weren’t for him, I would have never lived. He is my puppeteer and I am his puppet, his slave, and his love. I love him. I love him so much.

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"I want to be your Marionette..."

I love him. I love him so much. I love him from the bottom of my heart even though it’s only made up of wood. I love him even though he misuses me and ends up strangling me after shows. I love him even though he throws me so hard, the glass from the window and my porcelain skin both end up with cracks and scars. But I don’t care. Every scar is a memory and every pain is his way of saying that he loves me back. I love him even though I know it can never happen. He is the light of my life and if it weren’t for him, I would have never lived. He is my puppeteer and I am his puppet, his slave, and his love. I love him. I love him so much.

He first found me in an antique shop, where I had been so alone. There was no one to talk to and no one bothered to listen to me. I needed to escape from this place, from the lifeless objects, and the even more lifeless old man. When he came in and asked for me, I instantly fell in love. I loved him so much. He took me in and he caressed me, whispering to my ear that I would become a star. I would become his star. And I just couldn’t wait.

We ended up in his home and he took me to the bathroom to wash me up. I blushed at the contact but was sure he couldn’t see it. Who could when you were made out of porcelain? I was made to look beautiful all the time with my snow white skin, my flawlessly curled eyelashes, and my perfectly puckered red lips. Blushing was not an option for me but when it was him, I knew some rules could be broken.

He dressed me up with an attire I always wanted – an emerald dress with sleeves flaring out, specks of gold flowering down on the edges of the sleeves and dress – and I fell for him harder. The dress, so intricately made, gave my light green eyes even more emphasis and I loved it so much. He made me even more beautiful than I already was. But that didn’t matter at all. He was the beautiful to me.

The old and dirty strings that were knotted on my legs, arms, and head were replaced with sturdier ones and I could feel its shine. It was so perfect and new that I felt like I brand new person myself. He then picked me up and kissed me on the lips. I could not think at all.

“You’ll be the greatest star this world has ever seen!” He proclaimed and I promised myself that I would, in fact, become the greatest star to show him my love. He carried me out to the stage and I was met with curious eyes. A voice from a speaker rang throughout the crowd and it introduced me as Lolita, the most beautiful girl to ever walk on this stage. A love song then replaced the voice and suddenly my strings were pulled from above. I struggled to see who was controlling me but when I realized that it was him, I gave in immediately and started to dance so beautifully that when the music finally stopped and he came out to give a bow, there was a standing ovation. He then lifted me up and once more kissed me on the lips.

“Lolita, everyone!” He yelled and the people went mad. He smiled at me and I smiled back. My love was happy so I was happy as well. I was happy to see he loved me now as well.

I became the greatest star, just as he predicted. Every time I was out with him, there were advertisement boards with my face on it. They all knew me and they all loved me. He saw this and he smiled at me. He loved that I was being loved. I loved that he loved it. It meant that he loved me. After every show night, he would lay me down in bed while he sat beside me and counted his green joys. He would mumble numbers and once the stacks and stacks of money were counted, he would throw them high up in the air and shower in them. I looked at him caringly and with so much love. I loved him so much.

Then, time passed. I was no longer known as the greatest star the world has ever seen. I was only known as the outdated Lolita. Another puppet had shown up out of nowhere, looking nowhere as beautiful as I, but still getting more love than I. How was this possible? How could she gain more popularity than I did when she didn’t even have him as the puppeteer? How was it possible that I was losing his love?

Our time together outside decreased significantly as he got fewer calls from the important people who had always set up the shows. He would end up leaving me in his flat and whenever he returned, he would sway and titter until he lost it and eventually vomited on the floor. And then he started to see me in a different perspective. He saw me in a more violent manner.

Every night after he would return home from his drinking, he would see me with hardening eyes and would throw me to the ground. I gasped in shock the first time it happened. I couldn’t even process what he had done to me when he then threw me to the nearest lamp. The lamp and I fell down and a loud crash could be heard. The bulb shattered into pieces and some of its shards landed on my face, scratching the porcelain skin.

But I didn’t mind; I didn’t mind at all. Because he was smiling when he threw me. He was smiling big as he saw the shards hurt me. So I smiled back. And thus began our passionate love.

He began by just throwing me to various objects and walls. My face had the most damage at first but then, little by little, my body started to react as well. The strings that were a part of me were snipped off by him and he did it so carelessly that the blades would sometimes graze my light green eyes. He would then throw me hard, making my skin crack and ripple through the night. My arms felt much looser as well as my legs and my dress was completely ruined. But I didn’t care at all. Nothing was on my mind except for that smile of his when he was doing this to me. It made me realize just how the pain could feel so good.

One night, he decided that he wanted to show me his love in an even more ardent way. After making me clash with walls with immense force, he then pushed me down with his foot and started to rip my limbs out, one by one. It hurt so much but the smile in his lips and the gleam in his eyes stopped me from screaming in pain. He enjoyed doing this to me, or better yet, he loved inflicting this pain to me. His way of showing me his love was to make me suffer in pain. And I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it so much. I ended up with having only my right arm and left leg. The other two were tossed into the garbage bin and were never to be seen again. But that was alright. It meant that he loved me more now.

Then came the night when he was told that Lolita was now dead to the people and was replaced by another marionette. He was frozen for a moment before he threw the phone at the worn-out door. The only remains from the phone were various metallic pieces did not even look like a phone now. He screamed in agony and pain and I stared at him with horror. What was going on? Why was my love in such pain? Was someone else giving him love? Was someone trying to steal him from me? The thought of another puppet in his hands made me fume with anger but that all changed when he turned around and saw me. He then smiled and approached me slowly. I waited for him to start throwing me around like he always did, but this time, he did something entirely different. And I loved every second of it.

He took out a pocket knife which I didn’t even know he had and he started slashing me in every direction possible. The pain was unbearable but I pushed the scream down as I knew this was making him happy. This was just his way of saying that he loved me even more now. He began with my torso as my leg was already twisted as it was. He cut through the fabric of my favorite dress and carved various scars that penetrated through the porcelain and into the wood. He then flipped me over and did the same thing all over again. I tried very hard not to shriek in pain because I knew this was all for love. He was doing this because he loved me.

And finally, after he finished with my back, he started for my perfect face which had been ruined after days of mishandling me. He began with my eye as he dug the knife deep into my cornea and popped it out. My vision was completely shut out on one side and I could feel horrible burning sensation where my left eye used to be. While I was trying to get used to my vision being cut in half, he had already commenced on slashing the rest of my face. By the time he was done with me, I could hardly feel anything at all. The only thing that kept me going was his sweet smile. His sweet, sweet smile. My eyes glistened with love. That was the only thing that kept me going.

After he was done, he carelessly tossed the knife beside me and turned off the lights as he snuggled with the covers of his mattress. I lied there on the floor, pondering about our love. He has given me too much of it this time. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to make it out alive by the time morning would come. So I decided that today was the day to show him just how much I loved him.

Painfully, with my remaining arm, I reached for the knife that was next to me and used it as a supporter to help me stand up. My torso was on fire and I could barely see as one of my eyes was gone. But that didn’t matter at all because my love for him could conquer any darkness. I hobbled along the floor and almost tripped a couple of times but I always got up, making sure he wasn’t woken up. I wanted my portrayal of love to be a surprise. Why? Because I love him.

At last, I came in contact with his mattress and I saw him sleeping so soundly. It made my heart beat even faster. And then I smiled as I lightly touched his nose. He grumbled and I laughed softly. I then touched it even harder and that woke him up. The moment he opened his eyes, I punctured the knife straight through one of them. He screamed in agony as blood spilled out terribly fast. I pulled it out and went straight to his cheek. I dragged it down the moment it was in contact with the skin and I ended up tearing his mouth apart. Oops, my bad.

He looked at me with terrified eyes and I gave him a smile. He tried to defend himself from my love confessions but it was already too late. I had already aimed for the neck and when it punctured the epidermis, I made sure to dig it in deep.

He started gasping for air and then screamed in horrible pain as even more blood spilled out. I only tilted my head in confusion. Why was he screaming when he should have been pushing it back down like I had? Well, it didn’t matter now, just as long as he knew I was doing this for his love.

My whole body then convulsed and I realized that it was time for both of us to go. He collapsed right in front of me as he desperately tried to regain the blood he had lost from his neck, but with no use. I collapsed as well and we ended up looking at each other, both of us with only one eye. My tired arm reached out for him and I caressed his locks of hair that were threatening to hide his beautiful face and smiled once more.

“I love you.” I whispered before we both ended up drowning in our lust.

I will always be his slave, his marionette. I love him. I love him so much. We are in love forevermore.

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