Haha, of course. Normally if someone wanted to know about me I’d have them come torture a few people… see if they’re as fucked up as I am. [ She sighs. ] But I’m tired.

My dad used to beat me all the time when I was little. Then he went and got arrested for burglary, so my mom just turned around and started beating me like it was my fault.

My mom ran out on me one day after screaming about how much she hated my face… never figured out what the hell she meant, but I guess it doesn’t matter. My grandfather was forced to take me in after that, though, and he just did the same thing they did — but he’d at least hit me where no one would see.

[ I’m scared… I’m lonely…

Why did she ever agree to help a virtual doll who could feel everything she refused to say? ]

Just when I thought all those memories were wiped clean they come tumblin’ back. And then to make matters worse — you remember me talkin’ about that virtual world, yeah? Turns out that the easiest solution is just killing me.

I’ve been kicking and screaming my whole life, but it didn’t matter if I was a saint or a sinner. At this point I’m convinced that I was just born to die a painful death.