Chapter Text
I guess this is where it ends.
Dark, sticky splatters of blood scatter across everything near her.
My heart ignites, beating so hard I'm sure they can hear me.
But, I'm still standing behind that counter.
Still stealthy.
Still alive.
Okay, thats not how stories work, right?
Usually, you like... Do the intro... First...
I dunno, guess I'm a little rusty.
Well, this is my story.
Yes.
The stereotyped and mischaracterized,
The elusive...
Sprout.
No confetti?
:(
Ugh fine.
Ill actually write my story...
~~~
Wow.
Guess she really outdid herself this time.
Balloons.
Cake. (That I baked. Wow. Super surprising.)
And the background characters.
They honestly just fade into a blob of colour when they're around her.
Vee just, steals the spotlight.
God i hate that i love that.
"Sprout! Happy birthday!"
My toon handler smiled as she spoke, a subtle tone of sarcasm and sugarcoated hatred deep within her voice. Youd have to dig to find it, but oh, its there.
Wonder what she says next.
"I hope you like your gift my perfect little angel, Berriette- i-i mean.... S-sprout!"
As expected.
Fake stutters, the whole deal.
She fools the entire crowd.
Shes apologizing like shes a toddler, and everyone comforts her.
And she doesn't apologize to one, specific person.
Me.
...
Cause It's fake. It ALL Is. She never cared, she just wants some pay check for plagiarized empathy.
And it always,
Always,
Works.
I was snapped out of my trance by my dearest, Vee.
"Hey berryboy, she's seriously still doing that? God shes insufferable..."
Her words prove my point, and i snicker at her comment.
"My birthday, and she makes it about herself by calling me my dead name. Wish i kept track of how many birthdays became orderly sobs by this... Emotional beast of a handler..."
Vee looks at me smug.
"I... May have done some counting..."