All of the truth does nothing to help

*This fanfic is under my folder “Creepypasta stuff”. Gacha Club character designs are in this forum: https://www.youngwriterssociety.com/topic/117842-my-character-designs-lt-33-3?start=210. This is part of my interpretation of what happens in Jason the Toymaker’s origin story. Amelia is a canon character in his origin and so is Branwen, except Branwen doesn’t originally have a name so I gave her one. Anyway, enjoy!*

Jason brushed off the remaining shaved wood from the music box, watching the door from his armchair. He had dialed Amelia’s number on the red rotary phone earlier, right after he hid away Branwen’s soul. He thought of making the music box last minute.

“I’m…sorry…”

He turned sharply towards the sound of Branwen’s faint voice, to where she stood amongst all of the other dolls on the shelf. What nerve she had to speak!

“It’s too late now. You should have listened when I told you no.” 

The bell above the door chimed and Jason rose from his chair.

………………………………………………………………….

“Jason! My goodness, you look like you haven’t slept in days! Whatever is the matter?” 

Amelia’s eyes were wide with fear as she looked up at him, her hands holding onto his arms tightly. The door swung shut behind her from the night wind. Only the soft golden light of the toy shop lamp shone above him.

The toy shop that he spent all his moments in, the toy shop where his sacred creations were ruined by the thoughtless hands of children.

“You know you’re my only friend in the world, right? You know how much I love you?”

“Can I have that one? Please?”

“How many times do I have to tell you? There’s no room and no time in the house for toys! Now will you quit it?”

“Of…of course. But what’s wrong?”

Amelia didn’t yet see the music box he held in his hands. He motioned for her with his head to sit in one of the armchairs, to which she did. He then slipped the music box in his pocket and sat across from her.

In all the years he knew her, he was never close enough to see how dark her eyes were. They weren’t overwhelmingly blinding, but as gentle as autumn leaves.

Jason was not a liar. He only told what he needed to. He didn’t need to tell his parents about the toys he made or his own thoughts. Especially not his thoughts. Whatever shred of love they had for him would be gone if he uttered a word of what he really thought.

But if he wanted Amelia to understand, then he had to tell her everything. If he wanted her to keep, he had to do it.

And he had to start at the beginning.

“Do you remember the day I first came to your house?”

Amelia’s brows furrowed, then she said:

“Yes. My Mom wouldn’t let you come back after that. She had this notion that you killed my pet canary. A little thing like you, can you believe that? But why would you bring that up?”

His hands were shaking slightly, he hid them in his pants pockets. The words were dry in his tongue and still, he had to say them. She wouldn’t run. She knew better than to do that.

“Because I did.”

“What?”

“I killed your canary. I saw it chirping in its cage and I just…it seemed so happy. No, not happy. Careless. I don’t like carelessness. I never did. I took the bird out of its cage and squeezed it until it stopped breathing.”

Amelia was silent. She shifted farther away from her chair, like she wanted to run. He hoped she didn’t. He’d have to grab her if she did.

“You were nine. You were small. You couldn’t have done it.”

“But I did. And that’s not the only thing I did, either. I pushed Johnathan off the stairs and Lucy off the swing. Don’t forget that you laughed when I pushed her. They were just like everyone else, caring about nothing in the world. They would have grown up to use you. They were not real friends, not like-“

“They were children, Jason! And how could you say that about them? You didn’t take the time to actually know-“

“I didn’t need to. Most children are the same. Except for you. You were quiet. You watched me play with my toys when I didn’t want to play with you. You listened. You…didn’t make me feel like a freak for not being like them. So will you please listen?”

He couldn’t believe that he was asking somebody to listen to him, but the words came flowing out, just like every bad thing that he ever did. He needed her to stay and listen, he needed her reassurance that she was still the same friend she always was.

She swallowed hard, but she stayed put.

“I’m sure you’ve never forgotten the day Michael left that letter about you in class. It was absolutely scathing and vile. You were a girl of fifteen and you thought you’d never find a beau! One simple letter sent you straight to tears! But Amelia…”

He leaned in closer, to see her face better, to tell a secret that the dolls didn’t need to know.

“I cared for you. I don’t care for many people in this world. I practiced Michael’s handwriting for months and wrote the letter. Not even Lucy was there to comfort you, but I was. Do you know why? Because people only love you when there’s nothing wrong with you that they can find. But not me. I’ll love you with all of your cracks and mold, for as long as I live.”

He pulled away from her and jumped out of his chair, running over to the shelf where Branwen stood. His heart beat so fast he wished that he created something to calm down, something to make it slow, like a clock.

“Feel this! Feel how soft this doll is! Hard, but delicate!”

Jason handed Branwen to Amelia, who accepted it with shaking hands. Her fingers roamed around the doll’s body, but her eyes looked up at him like he was…mad? But he was never mad! He was intelligent and the world didn’t like that. 

“It is made out of wax and the flesh of a child! A little girl named Branwen! She came to my shop, lying to me about a broken toy, just so she could get another one. I did what I had to do and killed her just as I did your canary! Her soul is in that doll and there it will stay. Too many children don’t learn their lesson, so I had to teach her…but Amelia, what do you think? Do you find it revolutionary? Can you smell the blood in this toy shop? I’ve cleaned every inch of it. The police won’t think to come here, will they? And if they do, they won’t-“

“You have to turn yourself in.”

“Turn myself in where?”

“To the police! Confess the crime that you have committed and show them this doll! You can’t live your days lying and-“

“I can’t do that.”

“Why?”

Why? Why? She wanted to ask him why when the toy shop was his whole world? As if he could just throw it all away?

“You want me to rot in jail? I thought…I thought you loved me. You said you did. Why are you choosing somebody else? You never even met her! You don’t know her. And how…this place is my home! The first home I’ve ever loved! You…I can’t just…no. That’s not an option. You’re supposed to…why aren’t you listening?”

She was getting that look in her face like she wanted to shout at him, like he was wrong. He wasn’t wrong. He was never wrong and she knew that. She knew not to hurt him, but there she was, judging him…no…she wouldn’t betray him…she wasn’t like that…

“Do you think I wanted to be your friend?”

Jason froze.

“I only approached you that day at the school playground because the teacher told me to. She felt sorry for you and wanted me to be your friend. I was afraid of you when I first laid eyes on you, but I grew to love you. You scared me at times, but…I never thought you’d be capable of becoming such a…a monster.”

“A what?”

Amelia stared at him steadily. She gently placed the doll on the table in between the chairs. Branwen was talking, they could both hear her voice, but it sounded like feeble, hardly-there sobs.

“You heard me. You’re wicked beyond human definition. May you never know a day of peace.”

She got up from her chair and began to walk towards the door. She was going to leave him behind, she would run once she walked out, he could sense it and he had to stop it. There was still time to explain everything better. He just had to show her something, give her something-

He ran towards her, grabbing her hand, taking out the pretty little music box with the ballerina, she always loved ballerinas-

“I made this just for you. Please don’t leave me. You’re all that I have.” 

For a split second, Jason thought he saw tears in Amelia’s eyes, like some small part of her felt sorry for him.

But those eyes hardened into a glare.

“Then I guess you have nothing now.”

She yanked her hand away from his and walked out the door, running just as he thought she would.

Jason didn’t know what to do. It was just like the night he killed Branwen, desperately trying to search for a way to hide the evidence and to keep her trapped. He was used to his parents keeping him locked away in his room, filling the house with strange art and long books, but never toys. Never enough room for toys. The dolls he was surrounded with had sweet faces and curly hair and pretty dresses, just like…Amelia Crow.

Amelia was a doll. She held him close when no one else did and she had called him a monster. Looked at him like he was one. He never thought…never dreamed of…

He sunk to the floor, feeling smaller than the dolls he made. There were other toys he could make, but he liked dolls the best. Dolls were careful children. They didn’t want him to be something that he wasn’t. They didn’t ask for anything more. Why couldn’t she see how much he cared about her? How much his heart hurt? His heart-

Jason clutched his chest, a loud, warbling scream escaping his lips. Something had stabbed him, he felt its white-hot sharpness, just like he could feel the warm, fast-flowing blood on his hand. The room was…no…but the walls were getting closer…and so were the dolls…he needed to see…needed to check the damage…

He was holding his heart in his hand. It was heavier than the music box, spilling mercilessly onto the floor. Big and red, like a rose. A darker red than his hair. Red like…like his love for Amelia. Yes. That was it. He loved her and that still wasn’t enough.

He dropped it wordlessly. There was a hole in his chest and he had to fix it. But what to fill it with? His heart was drying up fast, curling into a brown, crumpled ball. He needed something to fill the gap, to help him.

The music box still stood on the ground, completely intact, just as he made it. It had a windup that could pump like a real heart did. Yes, that would do just perfectly. It would fit the hole well.

With a trembling hand, Jason snatched the music box and stuffed it deep into his chest, making sure to push it far so it wouldn’t slip. He wouldn’t let it.

After he was sure it was secure, a most peculiar thing happened. Veins and cotton melded together to close the hole, stitching it shut so the music box, his new heart, would never fall out. Jason watched it happen along with his own nails, which grew and twisted into black, inky claws. His teeth felt too pointed, bleeding into his tongue and his long red hair was bleaching into white, the strands out of place. He brushed it every day.

Monster. Now I look the part. He thought with a bitter smile. At least there was no mirror for him to look at.

But there was a cyan blue door on the wall across from him, opening up for him. He could crawl into it. Hide from the rest of the world. Be what he was meant to.

Fine. If even Amelia thought of him as a monster, then that was what he would be. The dolls didn’t need to be mended to. They could exist as their own solidarity creatures.

Jason did just that, but he wouldn’t hide. He’d come back.

And he would make sure nobody got to leave his wondrous toy shop. Ever.