Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was kind of funny, really.

On Christmas Day, 1999, Ragatha was six years old, and her little body could barely contain her excitement. The world felt like magic. Colors were brighter than they had ever been before, so sweet in her eyes she could almost taste them on her tongue. Green like sharp mint. Red like something warm and tangy. Purple, yellow, blue, and more; all dotting the tree that must have been taller than the sky, all decorating the presents crammed beneath its lowest branches. Ragatha’s hands twitched where she sat on the floor. She’d been up for hours, waiting for this moment. It was only seven in the morning. She hadn’t been able to sleep that night. Not for long, anyway.

Joining her in the living room were her parents and her brother. Her parents sat on the couch, close together but not quite snuggling, both cradling a steaming mug of coffee. They smiled as they watched their children sit and wriggle excitedly before the Christmas tree. Mom’s smile was bigger, so bright and genuine, but Dad’s eyes were softer. His coffee carried a dark, bitter scent, like something earthy, and Mom’s was lighter, sweeter, with too much creamer. Small details that Ragatha would surprise herself for remembering. But that morning, those moments, they’d felt so very special. She’d hung onto them, even as she waited with straining patience to open her present.

Even during the holidays—maybe especially during the holidays—there were important rules to follow. Ragatha and her brother had to choose one present at a time to open. After presents were chosen, the patriarch of the family went first to open his. After that, it was oldest to youngest. Ragatha, by some cosmic slight against her, was the youngest. Her brother was a short eleven months older. That meant eleven small eternities for Ragatha to wait while he scrabbled fiercely against surprisingly resilient wrapping paper.

“An edge,” Dad had advised. The corner of his lip curled in amusement. “You have to…find, find an edge in the paper.” He pointed a finger that soon wilted helplessly in the air.

Mom stayed silent apart from a small chuckle. When Ragatha had glanced at her, she’d seen the way her mother watched her brother. Even while he struggled and huffed, her eyes glowed with pride. At the time, Ragatha thought Mom was proud of her own ability to wrap presents good and tight. Eventually, she’d notice something particular. The way that glint appeared in her mother’s eyes at the sight of her son, and dimmed just as quickly when faced with her daughter. But at six years old, Ragatha was still too young to notice. Too hopeful, maybe, too. She really tried hard to be a good child. So she held her tongue, nearly biting it off, until her brother found purchase and the paper finally ripped with a sharp, merciless tear. 

Her brother had chosen his biggest present to open first. It was massive, too big to even fit under the tree. Beyond the long, jagged strip of missing paper—peeking out almost cheekily between little dancing candy canes—was the picture of a red, ride-on Jeep toy with flames licking the sides. Her brother lost all sense of restraint as he shrieked in pure joy and launched a full-on assault on the remaining paper. He laughed and cheered and hopped up and down. He did a little dance and hugged the box with a grin so huge it must have hurt his face. Certainly he already loved this toy more than his little sister. But Ragatha couldn’t find it in herself to be annoyed. In fact, she was happy. Even happier than him, although she had the practiced restraint not to show it. 

That toy Jeep was exactly what her brother had asked for, model, paint job and all. He’d asked for many, many things, but that had certainly been the top of the list and the most specific in detail. And their parents had gotten him exactly what he wanted. That in itself was not why Ragatha had felt so giddy. While her brother celebrated, her gaze fell from his grinning face and onto her own present. She’d taken the opposite strategy from him when choosing the first one that she wanted to open. She herself had plenty of large presents, but this one, decorated in happy snowmen, was the only one small enough to be what she’d asked for. It was the only thing she’d really wanted for Christmas after seeing it on a low shelf while shopping with Mom. She hadn’t forgotten it, and she’d made sure that Mom hadn’t, either.

Now, her parents looked at her expectantly. Dad nodded his encouragement. Mom took a sip of her coffee. Her eyes only briefly slipped back to look at her grinning son. It was finally Ragatha’s turn. Her excitement quickly turned to reverence as she took the present in her hands. She could feel the plastic of a toy’s container below her fingers. Suddenly, she had x-ray vision. She could see her new toy clearly in her hands. A plastic pony, complete with a mane and tail that she could brush. It came with a tiny comb and a saddle. Her finger found the edge of the wrapping paper running lengthwise on the bottom of the present. It even came with mini carrots and apples, she recalled with an excited little wriggle, for when her pony got hungry!

“Your father is excited to open his present, too,” Mom teased with some amusement. But Ragatha didn’t miss the sharp point hidden beneath the cottoned prod. It was rude to waste someone’s time. So, breathing out the worst of her excitement, Ragatha braced and dove for the moment she’d been waiting for for weeks. With a precise movement of her hand, she ripped away rows of smiling snowmen to reveal—

Ragatha froze briefly before her shoulders slumped. Her smile vanished from her face.

The bright colors around her dimmed.

Staring past the plastic casing in her hands were the button eyes of a Raggedy Ann.

For Christmas Day, 1999, Ragatha did not get a pony with a mane and tail that she could comb. She got a rag doll. 

Yeah. It really was kind of

“Really, now? The rag doll knows how to sew? That’s soooo cliche! Seriously, Ragatha, have you ever considered not being so regressive?”

They were in the middle of a raging ocean with Megalodon swimming tight loops around the ship. The prehistoric predator’s dorsal fin was a sufficient enough threat as it waited for choppy waves to bowl them over. Even still, it offered the staggering characters on board plenty of glimpses at its rows of giant, razor-sharp teeth. The threat in the water was matched in malevolence by the threat in the sky. The storm was a monster of its very own. In place of teeth were roiling clouds, lightning, and a sharp onslaught of rain that felt more like needles than droplets. And even with all of this danger pressing in like lead walls all around her, Jax still managed to break through her terror with his incredible propensity for being an unrivaled jerk.

Ragatha growled in frustration. It sounded pretty weak compared to the rumbling growl of the Megaladon as its head breached the water. Could Megaladons growl? They certainly couldn’t roar, but Caine didn’t know or didn’t care. The massive shark roared like a thousand lions before disappearing into the black depths of the ocean, and it seemed all the more imperative for Ragatha to focus on her task of sewing the sail back together. Even still,

“How is it regressive to know a practical skill?” she argued with Jax. “How am I the only one here that knows how to sew?!”

“Maybe because you’re so old.”

“I’m only thirty! Uuuugh!”

Sewing was really a lax term for what Ragatha was doing. Caine hadn’t equipped them with any needle or thread for this adventure, which left them in quite a disadvantaged position when a strike of lightning split the sail. She could only be thankful that he’d neglected to add a greater combustion element to this game’s logic. Perhaps he figured water beat fire in all cases. It would be the one nice thing about the unrelenting downpour. In any case, there was still a sail to stitch together, and Kinger (of all people!) had the quick thinking to suggest using a pirate’s dagger and some rope for the patch-up. Ragatha cut slits in the sail and hastily threaded the rope through. She tried not to think about how Jax had snagged the dagger when he thought nobody was looking. 

At least he was still plenty satisfied just jabbing her with his insults. He had the stupid gyroscopic ability of a chicken to keep his head stable even while the ship rocked all about. He looked completely at ease while everyone else stumbled like chickens with their heads cut off. He leaned against the ship’s banister and grinned his stupid grin at Ragatha. Just beyond his shoulder, Pomni was leaning dangerously overboard to puke black sludge into the ocean. Kinger had somehow made it onto the crow’s nest. One of his gloved hands pointed toward land. Well, it actually pointed in the opposite direction of land, but Ragatha appreciated the effort. Just below him on the mast was Gangle, who tried her best to tie her arms around the wooden pole so the wind wouldn’t carry her away.

Zooble, as per usual, was absent for this adventure. She’d declined, even after Caine’s pushy promises of a relaxing beach day adventure. Ragatha took a brief moment to look up from her work on the sails and squint through the rain at the sandy beach in the distance. It was the prize at the end of the horror. A single umbrella was stuck in the sand. A gust of wind blew it away.

“Caine,” Ragatha groaned.

But the wind could work in their advantage. As soon as the sail was back up, it would push the ship toward the shore. Toward safety! They could still win this adventure. At the very least, they could survive it.

“Done!” she cried at the finishing touches. “Pomni! Gangle! Kinger!” Terror more than confidence powered her voice. “Help me put the sail back up! Please,” she tacked on sheepishly. 

The rest of the troupe, omitting Jax, scrambled to attach the sail to the mast. The wind briefly relented as they went to work. It was one of the few kindnesses this adventure had to offer. Ragatha’s heart extended to a higher deity in gratitude. She supposed in this world, that would have to be Caine. An odd person to thank, given the circumstances, but the adventure he created could have been worse. It could always be worse.

A returning gust of wind rushed to fill the sail, and even Jax couldn’t stay on his feet when the ship lurched toward shore. Ragatha and the others cheered after they regained their footing.

“You did it, Ragatha!” Kinger cheered from overhead. How did he keep getting in the crow’s nest? “Land ho!!” He was still pointing in the opposite direction. 

Ragatha slumped against the mast. She was too relieved to escape the Megalodon to even appreciate the positive feedback. The Megalodon tried to keep up with the ship, but it wasn’t nearly fast enough to compete with the repaired sail. Ragatha nearly laughed. Caine definitely didn’t understand sharks.

“We’re almost to the beach!” Gangle cried. For all the crying she’d done already, that was undoubtedly the happiest.

“The sand better be warm,” Pomni groaned, still green with seasickness. But she looked pleased to see the end of the storm. Metaphorically and literally! The dark clouds above the island began to part. Rays of sunlight landed on their destination to impart a heavenly glow.

Not even Jax could look disappointed about an end to the chaos. His purple fur was completely soaked from the rain. He hummed. “Do you think they’ll be mimosas?” he asked.

Nobody had time to answer. A giant tentacle shot out of the water in front of them. Ragatha screamed and staggered backward as it wrapped around the mast. She kept screaming as she slid forward across the rain-slick deck. The bow was tilting at a steep angle toward the water. Another tentacle joined the first, and the giant, glaring eye of a kraken became visible from the ocean as the beast heaved itself upward. Soon, all eight of its arms had their ship wrapped in a death grip. All it would take was a brutal twist to tear the entire thing apart.

In the midst of complete terror and hopelessness, there was a minor pause. Jax crossed his arms. “So. Who asked Caine for an adventure with tentacles?” He eyeballed Gangle. The ribboned woman only had enough time to giggle nervously before the adventure found its own conclusion.

Ragatha never knew what it was like, being on a doomed ship while it succumbed to greater forces. She still didn’t know, even while wooden debris filled the ocean around her. Time seemed to jump between the most important parts of the story. And that’s what the whole thing was. A story. Caine insisted on it. And the ringmaster just couldn’t fathom a story without tragedy. One second ago, the story saw Ragatha on a pirate ship, sailing triumphantly toward land. Now it saw her underwater, encased in liquid darkness with a tentacle wrapped around her body as it pulled her closer, ever closer, to a hungry kraken’s snapping beak—

The time skips had to be her mind’s own doing. She couldn’t explain how else she’d arrived on the floor of the Big Top, with Pomni and Gangle peering down at her with concern.

“Wow,” she heard Zooble remark with their bored, almost monotonous voice. “Ragatha actually looks more traumatized than Pomni this time.”

“W…what..” Ragatha moaned. What happened to the sandy beach?

“Are you okay, Ragatha?” Pomni asked.

“It…kind of looks like she needs to be wrung out,” Gangle noted meekly.

Jax cracked his knuckles. “I can help with that!”

“Back off, Jax!” Pomni snapped. Then, “Ragatha, can you hear me?”

“Quick!” Kinger cried, bending down to grasp the limp rag doll by the shoulders. “Tell us something only Ragatha would know!”

“What? We’re trying to see if she’s okay, Kinger, not if she’s a clone—”

“When I was six years old, my mother gave me a doll for Christmas.”

“Oh…” Pomni faltered. She exchanged a look with Gangle before looking back at Ragatha. Kinger pulled away, seemingly satisfied that Ragatha wasn’t a clone. The jester cleared her throat. “That’s…nice…”

“I told her I hated it.”

Ragatha slowly became aware that she was laying on the floor, sopping wet, and staring up at the colors above her. Red, green, and every other color. They looked bright like Christmas time. She could taste something in her mouth. Jax laughed with surprise at her words.

“Jeez! What an ungrateful little brat!”

It was kind of funny. “That’s exactly what Mom told me.”

The taste in her mouth was ash. 

Chapter Text

She didn’t want to be a bad daughter.

When Ragatha told her mother that she hated her Christmas present, she really hadn’t meant to be cruel. She’d only meant to be honest. And nothing prompted honesty in Ragatha like anger. Her brother had gotten exactly what he wanted. So why hadn’t she? 

Mom told her that she was ungrateful. That made Ragatha even more angry. But it also made her very guilty, because she knew it was the truth. There were little girls all over the world that would do anything for a rag doll for Christmas. There were children who couldn’t even imagine the privileged life that Ragatha had been blessed with. She didn’t have a plastic pony toy, but her family owned a huge stable with real horses, with real manes and real tails that she could comb any time she pleased. Why did she want that plastic toy to begin with? Why wasn’t she happy with Raggedy Ann?

“You are privileged, and I’m glad for that,” Mom had said. “But don’t you ever think that you’re entitled to anything, because you are NOT.”

Ragatha didn’t want to feel entitled. She didn’t want to feel angry. And so, she didn’t feel those things. She thanked Mom for her gift, and she put it on her bedroom shelf. Ragatha put a lot of things on her shelf that Christmas Day. She tried to convince herself that she was happy, like she should be. She tried to love her new doll, like so many little girls would.

But she really, really didn’t.

She didn’t like its red hair. She didn’t like its flat, carrot nose. She didn’t like its weird, glove-like hands, or the rough fabric of the dress it wore. And if there was anything she hated the most about that unwanted gift, it was those blank, button eyes. The doll was like some dead thing posed grotesquely on the shelf. She couldn’t imagine why so many girls would want a toy like that. Its eyes were cold, and it did nothing but stare. She wanted to throw it away. But Mom taught her better than to be so ungrateful. A few years passed, and the doll remained untouched. Ragatha got used to its eyes. It didn’t take all too long for Raggedy Ann to disappear completely into the background of her room.

It took a terrible incident in the horse pasture and a blinding moment of rage for the rag doll’s dead-eyed stare to return.

Earlier that spring day, friends of Ragatha’s brother had arrived at the family estate. They wanted to play video games and explore the nearby woods. More than anything, they wanted to play with the new hunting dog that her brother had been bragging about at school. The dog was several months old and already trained to hunt. It costed Dad over two thousand dollars from a reputable breeder. But it was still a puppy, and it needed some lessons in obedience. Especially when it came to ignoring the farm animals. Because of its high prey drive, Dad warned the boys to keep it on a leash at all times. They promised to listen. Ragatha would remember a certain glint in a particular boy’s eyes.

She wanted to join her brother and his friends on their expedition through the woods. But she got a look from her brother as soon as they’d left the house. After that, it was Message Received. Since it felt too awkward to simply turn tail and walk back inside, she explained to his friends that she was going to visit her horse. None of them asked her to stick around—to her silent displeasure—and she parted for the horses’ field while they eagerly made their way toward the dog’s kennel. Ragatha could hear it barking and crying in the distance when she found her horse. The small pinto mare was grazing peacefully in the warm sunshine of the day. Ragatha pet her mane and talked about anything that crossed her mind.

Ten minutes of peace would pass by too quickly. Then, it was abruptly shattered. The only warning Ragatha got was a distant scream from her brother. She looked up too late to see the dog barreling towards them. Chicken feathers stuck to its jowls. Spittle flew out from its mouth when it barked. The horse screamed when the dog jumped and nipped at its flanks. It chased Ragatha’s mare around the pasture until Dad managed to lure it back with the promise of a second lunch. 

The horse was uninjured but exhausted. Her great flanks heaved with every breath. Her legs shook. Froth lined her mouth. Ragatha cried until she almost fainted. When Dad demanded to know who was responsible, her brother took the blame. His friends looked stricken. All except for one, who stared at his shoes like the gesture alone could hide his smirk. The boy with the glint in his eyes.

Ragatha punched him in the face. She gave him a bloody nose. Chaos ensued, but she wouldn’t remember most of it.

She would, however, remember the way that Raggedy Ann stared at her from upon the shelf later that night. Its eyes could have been her mother’s, for all the judgement they held as she sobbed. Ragatha didn’t even know how she had any tears left after all the crying she’d done for her horse. But in spite of how awful it was to see her mare in such distress, the lecture she’d gotten from Mom left her feeling even worse.

“That boy didn’t mean to drop the leash! It was an accident, and you know it! I understand that you were angry, and probably scared, too. But today, you were the worst kind of person.

“You were the kind of person that hurts other people because of their own bad feelings. I want you to go to your room and look in the mirror. Ask yourself what kind of girl you see looking back.”

Mom passed by her room that night as she made her way to bed. Ragatha heard the creaks of the floor when she paused to listen to her daughter’s pathetic sobs.

“Good,” Mom mused, much louder than a whisper. “There might be hope for her after all.”

Raggedy Ann’s stare was colder than it had ever been before.

She didn’t want to be a bad person.

“I loved it,” Ragatha said with a grin. Her licorice hair stuck out in odd directions. Her eye twitched, once. Twice. A stain colored her dress. She didn’t want to think about where it was from. “That was so much fun.” 

Pomni stood by her side. The jester glanced up at her with an odd expression.

Zooble scowled as much as their face allowed. They’d been lassoed—literally—into joining Caine’s latest adventure. Now they side-eyed her incredulously. “Really?” they muttered. They didn’t sound too impressed.

“Really?!”

White teeth and mismatched eyeballs filled Ragatha’s vision. Pomni yelped and hopped away. Caine was a lot to handle at the best of times; right now, the air around him felt electric with manic energy. His hands hovered by Ragatha’s shoulders, posed to grip, but he’d frozen in a rare gesture of restraint. But restraint for Caine still meant bearing down upon whoever managed to catch his interest. His pupils darted frantically as they searched Ragatha’s face.

She could feel a buzzing in her head. Like static building up between the cotton filling.

“Of course!” Ragatha replied. “I liked the horses! They’re my favorite animal, you know.”

“Yes indeed! HA!” Caine’s hands fell to clamp onto her shoulders. His jaws retreated the slightest bit. His teeth no longer framed her vision. Only then did she realize that she’d been standing there, smiling, and waiting for something to chomp off her head. 

The ringmaster explained with a cheerful quirk in his teeth, “It was Pomni who gave me that tantalizing little tidbit! You can thank her for my latest adventure!”

“R-Ragatha,” Pomni stuttered weakly, “I—”

“BUT YOU CAN THANK ME FIRST!!” the ringmaster insisted, his voice pitching toward a shriek. His fingers dug into the fabric of her shoulders. He was grabbing her too tight. She didn’t want him to be grabbing her at all. The static in her head spread throughout her body. Her fabric skin danced with pins and needles.

“Caine,” Pomni said. She took a brave step closer. “I think you should give her some—”

“Thank you, Caine.” Ragatha smiled. “That was a great adventure. I’m looking forward to the next one!” She heard a sharp tch from Jax. She could practically hear him rolling his eyes. But she didn’t allow her polite smile to falter. 

Caine’s pupils dilated within his green and blue irises. His lower jaw hung loosely, nearly sitting upon his shoulders, until he appeared to remember himself. The ringmaster shot into the air to resume his usual place far above the troupe’s heads. Ragatha’s compliment followed him up, if the pink flare across his gums was any indication.

He flapped a hand and gushed, “Now, now! No need to sing your never ending praise for the GREATEST ENTERTAINER, WATER DRINKER AND BEE ILLUSTRATOR that your sweet button eye has ever laid itself upon!!”

“Water drinker?” Pomni squinted.

“Bee illustrator?” Gangle repeated. Her lilted eyes widened in curiosity.

“Thrilling side hobbies and nothing of note!!” Caine cried, thrashing his arms into a hummingbird blur.

“Then why did you—” Zooble glared when he summoned a zipper across their face. It was another one of Caine’s recent side hobbies.

“And remember,” Caine grinned and raised a finger in the air; “constructive criticism of my adventures is ALWAYS appreciated, and ALWAYS acknowledged!” He stretched his arm impossibly far to pluck one of Zooble’s antennae, which vibrated like a door stopper.

Zooble’s mouth exploded into censored explosives when they reached to steady their antenna. It was turning out to be a normal conclusion of events for a day inside the Amazing Digital Circus. Ragatha allowed herself the opportunity to take a long, steadying breath. Someone tugged at her dress. She glanced down to see Pomni gazing up at her. Concern tinged the jester’s pinwheel eyes.

“You okay?” Pomni asked softly.

Although Ragatha liked to believe that all of her smiles were genuine, she had to admit that this one felt a little less like a chore. “Yeah,” she sighed, “Yeah. I’m—” 

“HEY, CHATTERS!” Jax called. Ragatha flinched. “Before you go! I’ve actually got a suggestion for you!”

“Yyyyyyyes, Jax?” Caine’s not-so-subtle favoritism was on full display as he clasped his hands and donned a pair of obnoxiously curly eyelashes.

Jax cupped his hands around his grinning mouth. His body ascended a couple feet off the ground with the effort of shouting, “SWALLOW MOUTHWASH!!!”

Even Zooble got a chuckle out of that remark. Gangle followed their lead and laughed as well. Kinger said something half ways insightful about healthy dental habits. Out of the corner of Ragatha’s eye, Pomni shook her head at the rabbit’s antics. She could only hope the gesture wasn’t as fond as it looked. 

Ragatha didn’t realize she was glaring at Jax until he threw her a censored gesture.

”Mouthwash, you say?” Caine hummed thoughtfully. “I was actually planning on making the transition from water drinking to the wonderful world of MILK CHUGGING, but I will give serious consideration to your suggestion! Thank you, Jax!” He tipped his hat. Jax waved him off with a derisive chuckle and turned to saunter away.

“Now!” Caine exclaimed. ”If you’ll all excuse me,” he rubbed his hands together, “I have some cow NPCs whose spots need irrigating! TOODLES!!” He bowed deeply, and with a poof of smoke he was gone.

Zooble muttered, “That guy does not know how milk works. Or cows in general.”

“Somehow I don’t want to be the one to explain milk to him,” Pomni mumbled. She cleared her throat. “So, uh, Ragatha…”

But when Pomni turned to face Ragatha, the rag doll was already walking away. Her feet started moving of their own accord to follow Jax toward the Hall of Rooms.

When Ragatha caught up with Jax, he was leaning innocently enough against the door. The door to her room. She wondered if he knew that she would’ve marched right up to face him, whether he’d been lounging in front of her door or not. She couldn’t even figure out what she wanted to say to him. She wanted to say something, but the words eluded her. Against her better judgment, she played into his game.

“Get out of my way, Jax,” she muttered, hunching her shoulders. 

“Ah-ah-ah! You forgot the magic word.”

She glared at him. “Please.”

“Hmmmmm. Nope. You gave up way too easy! I’m not letting you go just yet.”

“What? That’s not how that works! This isn’t—”

“Fair?” Jax sneered. He peeled away from her door and towered over her. Ragatha took a step back without meaning to. Her eye widened in surprise. Even after his meanest stunts, Ragatha had never once considered him to be intimidating. But he’d never looked bigger than he did at that moment.

He laughed and it was a cruel sound. “What makes you think that word even exists here? And what makes you think that you get to decide how anything works?!”

“I-I don’t…” Whatever Ragatha had been feeling before, it was now being consumed by a growing sense of dread. Ever since Jax and Pomni’s team-up during the gun adventure, the purple-furred trickster had only gotten more unpredictable. His yellow eyes glowed with something hostile. For a second, Ragatha was certain he was going to do something terrible. 

Then his face changed. It was a split-second look that flicked across his fur, but Ragatha thought it looked like concern. Even regret. She knew better than to believe it. Jax was full of tricks. So she kept her guard up, even when he leaned back against her door with an easygoing smile.

“Relaaaax! I’m just pulling your leg, Raggie. It’s not going to pop off, is it? I don’t really know how girls’ toys work.” He snickered. “But seriously. If you want to get into your room, you have to answer my question first.”

Ragatha huffed and crossed her arms. “Okay. And what would that question be?”

His eyes narrowed in a dangerous way. “What was your favorite part of Caine’s adventure today?”

“What? Why would you want to know that?”

“Just curious!” He shrugged. “You went out of your way to tell Caine you loved it, after all. It musta been really special. So.” He leaned forward. His face was only inches away from hers. He raised a brow. “What was your favorite part, Rag Dollie?”

“I—it was—” She scrambled for a response. It should have been a harmless question. So why did it feel like she was dangling from his hand? 

Ragatha couldn’t believe that she’d followed after him. What had compelled her to do that? Did she actually think she could talk to him and not lose control of the situation? If so, she’d been delusional. Jax had a way of pulling the floor out from underneath her. The best she could do was reach for something flimsy to try and hold her weight.

“My…my favorite part was the horses,” she finally replied. “Obviously. Rounding them up into the corrals was actually really fun! And Caine did a great job on the rendering for this adventure. I noticed that their fur had a lot more texture than yours.” Ragatha tried not to feel satisfied when Jax twitched at that last, harmless remark.

Then he laughed and brushed at his overalls. “Riiiight, of course you’d love Round-Up Rodeo. To think you only got trampled a couple of times!”

“Only because you purposely pushed me—!! No, no. I’m not letting you drag this on. I answered your question. Now let me into my room!” She tried to move around him but he stepped into her way. He raised his hands as though to placate her, but his grin was all the more smug.

He purred, “Wait a minute! Conversations are a two-way street! Didn’t your parents socialize you? You have to ask me what my favorite part was!”

Ragatha stared at the floor. The sooner she went along with it, the sooner this torture would be over with. She pulled in a shaky breath. “Alright, Jax. What was your favorite part?”

“Thanks for asking! Well, as much fun as it was chasing around horses and pushing you in front of the stampede, I’ve gotta admit…” He pressed his hands to his chest and looked to the ceiling. His face was a caricature of sentiment. “Caine’s surprise bonus round, Glue Factory Extravaganza, will always hold a special place in my heart. I guess it makes sense that we’d be rounding them up for something. Man, I never knew horses could scream like that! Did you?”

“Yes,” Ragatha replied before she could think better of it. Jax blinked in surprise, then shrugged.

“Huh. I guess you’re the spoiled horse girl, not me!” He patted her on the head and moved away from her door. Ragatha stared at the handle and listened to the sounds of his feet padding away. “See ya around, Rag—”

“You shouldn’t have said that.”

“—Hm?” She heard him pause. Even as she regretted it, she felt a small thrill to halt him in his tracks. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you?” There was a cartoony squeak when he made a show of cleaning out an ear.

When Ragatha didn’t reply or turn to look at him, he growled, “What shouldn’t I have said? You are a spoiled little horse girl, aren’t you? You said it yourself! You—”

Ragatha spun. “You told Caine to drink mouthwash!” she snapped. “You shouldn’t have said that! Don’t you know how rude that was?!” 

A moment of shocked silence passed between them. Jax looked floored. Ragatha felt the same way. She finally stumbled upon the reason why she’d felt so compelled to follow Jax. And it was to defend Caine. She was angry that Jax mocked the ringmaster. But the more she thought about it, the angrier she got.

“You…” she scowled and stomped her foot; “You can’t just be mean to people like that! Not in the real world! And especially not in a place like this! You’ve seen so many people Abstract! How can you still be so—so cruel like that?!”

Jax stared at her. His mouth was closed for once; all she could really see were his huge, yellow eyes. His pupils were pinpricks. It took a second for Ragatha to notice that his shoulders were starting to shake. He crouched low and buried his face in his hands. An odd choking noise escaped from his throat. Ragatha’s heart sank. She cautiously stepped toward him.

“Jax?” Ragatha asked quietly. “Are…are you…cry—”

“HahahahaHAHAHAHAHA!!!” 

For the record, he was crying. From the force of his hysterical laughter. He fell onto his back and kicked his legs in unadulterated glee. “OH. MY! GOD!! And here I thought you were too strung up for jokes! HAHAHA!”

“What? But—Jax!! I wasn’t joking! You really shouldn’t be mean to Caine! He doesn’t try to…”

“Doesn’t try to what?” Jax half-laughed, half-scoffed. He sat up and cocked his head. His face scrunched into a smile that doubled as an incredulous scowl. “He doesn’t try to hold us prisoner here? Doesn’t try to torture people with his stupid adventures? Oh, come ON, Rags! Aren’t you, like, fifty? How can you be so naive!” 

“I’m thirty! And…and, Caine tries his best with his adventures! Do you really think that he—that he tortures us on purpose?” 

Jax snorted and shook his head. He climbed to his feet. “No, I don’t think Caine tortures us on purpose. I don’t think Caine does anything on purpose, because IT is a COMPUTER! It’s not real! Neither are we,” he muttered under his breath, “but that’s besides the point! At least you and I used to be people. That thing you’re suddenly soooo protective of is just a disgusting imitation! And you’re falling for it! At least, you’re pretending to. I mean, let’s be honest for a second. This isn’t really about Caine. This is about me.”

Now it was Ragatha’s turn to laugh. “Of course you think that, Jax! Of course you think that!” She jabbed a finger at his stupid, grinning face; “Because you can’t even fathom that you’re not the only one suffering here!”

“Oh, get over yourself and admit that you’re jealous.”

“Why would I be—”

“Because I don’t have to pretend to care about people! I can be honest! You could be honest, too, if you weren’t forcing yourself to be so repressed. I don’t know how you haven’t exploded yet! It’s actually crazy! I’m impressed! I gotta warn you, though. Keep it up, and you’ll finally have more than just the one eye.”

Jax pulled at his eyelids with a nasty grin. Ragatha stared. Her body suddenly felt numb.

“You are the worst kind of person.” The words left her mouth almost without her permission. 

“Yeah, well.” Jax turned away. “Think whatever you want about me. I’ll be the one ignoring your funeral. Not the other way around.” He stretched obnoxiously. “It’s getting late, isn’t it? Same time tomorrow, Ragatha?” 

The rabbit was almost to his room when she finally replied. 

“I’m sorry you think that I would miss your funeral. But I’m not like you. I’m not a bad person.”

Ragatha turned to her door. She gripped the handle. “When I’m speaking at your funeral, I will say something nice.”

She could feel Jax staring at her. She could almost hear him smile, bigger than he ever had before.

“Jeez, Rags,” he laughed. “There might be hope for you yet.”

Chapter Text

Sometimes, she just needed a way to let it all out.

All the stress. All the anger, and the grief. Every single negative feeling that she tried so hard to keep buried inside. 

Ragatha was touring a university when Mom killed her pinto mare. 

Perhaps that was an unfair way to frame it. Her horse had been struggling for weeks before that. The pinto’s appetite decreased dramatically. Not even her favorite oats encouraged her to eat. Her weight dropped. Her legs began to move more stiffly beneath the weight that remained. Long eyelashes drooped over tired eyes. Ragatha already knew that it was only a matter of time before she’d have to say goodbye to her best friend.

Goodbye. She wished that she’d had the chance to say goodbye. But she’d been hundreds of miles away, touring the school that she would attend in the fall, and Mom decided the time had arrived for the old pinto horse. She paid a nearby veterinarian to visit the estate for the euthanasia. Ragatha wouldn’t know until the following day. Mom called her while she was driving back home. Ragatha nearly drove off the road. She spent thirty minutes hyperventilating on the shoulder. Passing drivers threw her curious looks, especially when she started to punch the horn, but she couldn’t care. She couldn’t care about anything. Her best friend in the entire world was gone forever.

Mom called her selfish. She called Ragatha lots of things when her daughter arrived home with silence on her lips and nothing less than fury in the set of her shoulders. But selfish—that was the word that stuck with her when she walked firmly past her mother, up the staircase, down the hall, and to her room to pack. Selfish, selfish, selfish. It ricocheted like shrapnel in her head, not the bullet it was supposed to be but a thousand little cuts, dragging her through all the years that she tried so hard to be anything but. She always wanted to be the perfect daughter for the mother who had the perfect son. No matter how hard she tried to smooth out her roughest parts, Mom’s disapproval only ever grew. In childhood, it was hurtful; as a teen, it was scathing.

As a legal adult preparing to leave the family estate forever, Ragatha felt the sharpest points of her mother’s cruelty.

“You would make that horse suffer longer just to spare your own feelings?” Mom cried when she’d met Ragatha in the driveway upon a concrete-searing arrival. She tailed her daughter toward the house when Ragatha refused to reply. “I’ve always known you were a brat, but this is a new level of petty. And here I thought you cared about that animal! But of course you didn’t. Certainly not more than you care about yourself! Where did I go wrong with you?” she asked, catching the front door when it closed behind Ragatha. “Your brother turned into a good man, but look at you! You’ve always been this way, ever since you were a child! Selfish! Now where are you going? Look at me! Talk to me!”

Beyond the depths of her rage and sorrow, Ragatha’s ever-present self doubt surfaced above everything else. It grew like a serpentine vine, only finding purchase in the darkness that plagued her, and it asked over and over: Was her mother right? Was she ungrateful? Entitled? Mean, and selfish? Ragatha paused for just a moment in the middle of her frenzied packing. She was crying. Her hand flew to her mouth to catch a sob. Maybe Mom was right about everything. 

Maybe Ragatha was a terrible daughter.

Maybe she should have applied to the other university, the one that Mom approved. The one that was close to the family estate. 

Maybe she shouldn’t have decided to move hours away from home.

But there was one thing that Ragatha knew. Not even the twisting tendrils of doubt could cloud her certainty. Mom didn’t have to put down her horse. Not on the day that Ragatha was hundreds of miles away, trying to create a future where she could be even further than that from her mother. She was more determined than ever to make that future a reality. Even if she’d have to be a selfish person to do it. 

“So you’re leaving, then?”

“Yes,” Ragatha replied. Mom stood in the doorway, watching her pack. She wished she could fit her room in her suitcase. As it was, she could barely fit a couple drawers of clothes. She didn’t look at her mother.

“You can’t move into the dorms. Not until the fall semester. Where are you going to stay?”

“Friends—a hotel,” she amended quickly before Mom could make a comment about that. “I don’t know. I’ll figure something out.”

“A hotel,” Mom repeated. “With your father’s money. My money.”

Ragatha shrugged weakly. She rubbed her eyes and grabbed her favorite summer dresses from the closet. A part of her hoped that her mother would cut her off from the family wealth. Then she’d finally leave Ragatha well and truly on her own, like she threatened so many times. But Mom said nothing. Apparently she knew better than to take away her biggest weapon of control. Ragatha was too weak to demand her own independence.

Selfish.

This time Ragatha almost laughed at the echo. She felt close to manic. She could feel herself cracking, losing control of herself. It was all too much. She needed to do something, say something, or she was going to implode.

Mom sniffed. “Is there anything you want to say?”

The suitcase was almost completely packed. There was one more thing that could fit. Ragatha had grabbed it off the shelf without thinking. She froze with it in her hands. A minute of silence passed. It felt like an eternity. Even an eternity wouldn’t be long enough for everything Ragatha so desperately wanted to say.

“No,” Ragatha replied. “There’s nothing. Not right now.”

“Okay.” Mom sighed and shook her head. “Fine. When you’re packed, go ahead and leave. Get yourself a nice hotel. When you’re ready to act your age and speak to me, I’ll be waiting. And…honey,” her eyes flicked to the object in Ragatha’s hands. “You really are too old for dolls.”

With that, Mom left, leaving Ragatha alone with the rag doll clutched in her fingers.

Ragatha didn’t know why she’d grabbed it off the shelf. She’d never liked the rag doll. She didn’t even know why she’d saved it, years ago, when Dad’s hunting dog managed to grab a hold of it. There were stitches around the doll’s neck where the head had to be reattached. 

She’d been so irritated with that dog. She’d loved the family pet in her own way, but she hadn’t adored it. Not like her brother adored it. When the dog got sick, Mom structured the whole day around his final moments with his best friend. He held his dog when it was put to sleep. Mom rubbed his back while he cried.

Ragatha’s fingers found the looser stitches in the rag doll’s neck. She ripped off its head and left its button eyes staring up at the ceiling from the floor. The guilt that she expected never came as she zipped up her suitcase and walked out of the house. When she drove away, passing by a pasture that had no grazing pinto horse, she noticed something unexpected.

She felt relieved. 

She supposed she didn’t have to feel guilty. Not for ripping a rag doll in two. It was nothing but a toy, after all.

One that nobody loved.

It felt good to let it all out.

Ragatha’s cotton stuffing traced a sullen trail across the floor of the Big Top.

Caine’s adventure was particularly “fun” today. 

That would be Jax’s word for it. 

For once, Ragatha tried to agree with him. Especially since the ringmaster had gotten even more pushy when demanding positive feedback. More often than not, it fell onto Ragatha’s shoulders to say something flattering so Caine would let them all go. It was a difficult task to come up with something convincing while she was literally falling apart at the seams. 

The themes of Caine’s adventures had gotten more and more convoluted since he spontaneously announced a permanent end to the Suggestion Box. It was as though he was determined to make adventures that no rational human mind would ever come up with. Today, a confusing maze adventure turned into a burning hellscape with crows that swooped overhead and pecked them with razor-sharp beaks. Ragatha did everything she could to shield Pomni from their attacks, and she ended up with plenty of battle-scars because of it.

Caine—for all of his attention that Ragatha siphoned when she molded the word “horrifying” into a compliment—didn’t seem to notice the many holes pecked into her fabric by the digital crows. She supposed the worst of the injuries were on her back. But that just made them all the harder to get to as she tried stitching them up herself. It didn’t help that her mind had been feeling so hazy recently.

Sometimes it didn’t even feel like she was inside her own body.

Pomni offered to help Ragatha stitch herself up, but she turned her down. She didn’t know why she always turned her down. Now Ragatha was all alone, sitting at her desk, bending her arm at an awkward angle as she tried to thread together one of the larger rips.

“Heya, Dollface.”

Ragatha startled and glanced away from her work with the thread. Jax leaned on one of her bedposts, looking all too comfortable in her room. She scolded him for using his key to break inside, and his yellow grin faltered. This time, there was no denying that quick expression. Jax—Jax!—looked concerned. He jabbed a thumb at the open door.

“You never even closed the door, Rags,” he said. His grin was back. It looked strained at the edges. “You had a…heh,” he gestured to the pieces of cotton on the floor, “bread trail leading to your room and everything! So I thought it was an open invitation.”

Ragatha squinted at him suspiciously. “Invitation for what?”

Jax hummed and stuck his hands in his pockets. He walked forward with exaggerated steps. “Invitation forrrr…THIS!” 

“HEY!” Ragatha cried when he pounced forward and snagged the sewing needle from her hand. She jumped to grab it but he kept it just out of reach. “Give! IT! BACK!!”

“Sorry, Dollie, but you’re gonna have to fight me for it! C’mon! I know you want to!” His eyes blazed with something darker than mischief when he stared down at her. “I’ve been watching you, Ragatha, and I know that you need to.” 

Embers seemed to fly from the intensity in his gaze, inviting themselves into Ragatha’s own eye. She could feel her heart blazing. She imagined saying everything she wanted to say to him. This cruel, sneering character that echoed her mother so many times, in so many ways. Mom didn’t miss her, and when she Abstracted, Jax wouldn’t, either. He’d think she got what she deserved. 

Why didn’t she make him right? Why didn’t she do something terrible, say something terrible, and give herself the dignity of deserving it?

Ragatha was close, so close, to doing exactly what Jax wanted her to. She could see it on his face as much as she could feel it in her body. His grin widened when her hands balled into fists. She opened her mouth, ready to say all the words that she’d been holding back for a long, long time. They were worse than Jax could imagine, for as twisted as the rabbit liked to imagine he was. Ragatha knew she could destroy him with the truths that he himself had created. She knew when the words left her, she’d open his eyes, and those eyes would swallow him whole.

And so, with that image of an Abstracted Jax replacing the one that stood before her,

Ragatha shut her mouth, and she said nothing at all.

If Jax was right about her all along, then she would’ve been saved. But he wasn’t right.

Ragatha cared. She cared about all the humans trapped within the circus, genuinely and to the bottom of her soul. Ragatha still loved her mother, because that was her mom. She loved the characters of the Amazing Digital Circus, because they weren’t characters at all. They were humans. And she wasn’t going to hurt them.

Not to save her own life. 

The human in front of her wore an expression of disappointment mixed with anger. He put his hands on his hips. “What?” he snapped. “Is that it? You’re just gonna do nothing? You’re just gonna let yourself—“ He growled. “Why do you always give up so fast?!!” 

“Please, Jax,” Ragatha replied calmly, extending her hand. She looked at the needle in his grasp. “I would really appreciate it if you gave that back.”

Jax’s mouth disappeared in a moment of shock. Then it split his face in a sneer. “I tried to help you, Ragatha. I really did.” And he stuck the needle into her chest in the place where her heart would be.

He waited a moment, gauging her reaction. When Ragatha didn’t react, he rolled his eyes and tossed her a wave that felt more like an empty slap. Jax left her room and slammed the door behind him. Ragatha sat on her bed and waited to cry, but no tears would come. She felt…empty. Like the chance to embrace her emotions had come and gone, and now there was nothing left to feel at all. Her mind wandered. She thought of the holes torn into her back. She thought of multicolored eyes peeking out of them. 

She needed to talk to Kinger.

A digital night had fallen upon the digital realm, but the main areas of the Big Top remained brighter than ever. The simulated day and night cycle that pandered to a typical circadian rhythm only affected the Grounds and the rooms of the humans. For those trapped inside the circus, it was all the more reason to stay burrowed away whenever the ringmaster allowed for it. Ragatha didn’t think that she’d ever traversed the circus this late at night. Definitely not alone. She could almost feel grateful for the awful, detached mist of consciousness that surrounded her. The jitters she’d normally have were absent. Her mind was like a balloon being strung around by a body that moved of its own volition through this innocent, obscene purgatory. The sewing needle remained in the rag doll’s chest as its feet carried her toward the Pillow Fort.

A more logical string of reasoning would see Ragatha knocking on Kinger’s door in the Hall of Rooms, at least before she made the effort of walking all the way to the Fort. But she didn’t bother. She knew where he would be. The chess piece always hid himself away within his sanctuary of pillows. She didn’t know what he did there, or if he’d even let her inside. Even though it was a child’s fortress, it was also the very last place that he’d touched Queenie, his wife. That made it sacred and undeniably private. Not even Jax would ever break into it. Ragatha knew she shouldn’t bother him, but for once, her guilt wouldn’t stop her. It seemed the madness creeping into her head was becoming its own kind of cure.

Soon enough, the colorful igloo of pillows that made up the Fort appeared in the room before her. The rag doll paused. It pulled in a breath like the motion could reel Ragatha back into her digital body. No such luck. Only Kinger could save her. The man who was equal parts insane and wise. He was like a bridge, posted to the opposite sides of a great chasm, able to suspend himself and others above the drop of insanity. He would know what to tell her. Maybe he’d even know how to hold her, if she could be so fortunate.

She wanted a hug. Her skin ached from the realization, and it was the closest she’d felt to her body in a long time. The rag doll’s feet began moving, bringing her closer to Kinger, the nearest thing she had to a father in this digital world. Even if she didn’t deserve it, she wanted to be saved.

A jaunty humming stopped the rag doll in its tracks.

The saving light of the Pillow Fort dimmed in her mind’s eye as she looked toward the source of the noise. It was coming from a nearby nook, one that was tucked away from the wide open area near the stage. Ragatha had seen it before. Zooble could often be found there, reading whatever magazines Caine had conjured up to keep them entertained. That humming…it sounded like the ringmaster himself.

Don’t do it, a voice in her head whispered. It sounded like Kinger. Ragatha decided she was going to do it anyway. The Pillow Fort and the wise man within it were hastily forgotten. A new guiding light led the rag doll’s feet. The light was dark around the edges.

She found Caine lounging on a sofa. He looked more relaxed than she’d ever seen him, although a subtle intensity still pulled at his posture. His back was straight where it pressed against the back of the couch. He rested his foot on top of a knee, and the folded leg bounced with energy as he doodled away on a notebook. His jaws were relaxed but closed ever-so-slightly around his eyeballs. Caine hummed, and the noise was that same odd mixture of relaxation and anxiety that marked his current demeanor. 

Ragatha stood watching him until he happened to glance up. 

“AH—Ragatha!” Caine startled, and she jumped a little herself. She’d almost forgotten she was visible and not the circus’s resident ghost. The ringmaster remained in a seated position, but he floated a few inches up from the couch. He’d always been oddly reluctant to interact with the digital world on the same level as the humans. When the humans were around to see him, anyway.

Caine recovered quickly and waved at her. “Well hello, my adorable hard-boiled hazelnut! What brings you here this time of night?” He eyeballed his wrist but didn’t bother summoning a watch.

“I…” Ragatha blinked. What a great question. She knew exactly what brought her to Kinger’s Pillow Fort. As for what brought her to Caine…“I don’t know.”

For a second he just stared at her, waiting for her to elaborate. She stared back. Something told her to feel self-conscious, but she didn’t. She could keep standing and staring all night. But Caine had never been one for that sort of stagnant behavior. When it became obvious Ragatha had nothing more to say, he motioned her to come closer. The rag doll did exactly that, and he patted the cushion next to him with a friendly smile on his teeth. Ragatha watched her digital avatar sit down beside him with a polite amount of distance. Before Caine set his notebook aside, she caught a glimpse of the doodle. He’d drawn a bee. Its cartoon face smiled at her for an instant before the notebook was page-down on the arm of the couch. Caine summoned a short glass of some kind of drink. The ice clinked softly as he idly tilted the glass around in his hand. The ringmaster eyed Ragatha curiously.

Ragatha stared at his drink. It had an odd purple tint.

“A late night stroll, then?” Caine nodded.

“I guess,” Ragatha replied quietly.

“What’s that?”

She felt the tiniest twinge of irritation. “I said—”

Then he pointed to the needle sticking out of her chest. Ragatha frowned and touched it. “Oh…” She hadn’t realized it was still there. The rag doll grabbed the eye of the needle and pulled it out of her fabric skin. “It’s a sewing needle,” she explained distantly.

“I never knew you liked to moonlight as a pincushion,” Caine joked with a tilt of his jaw. Ragatha didn’t laugh. She watched the rag doll on the couch slouch forward. She looked at the needle in its hand.

I tried to help you, Ragatha. I really did.

Would hurting Jax back really make her feel better? The rag doll’s eye lilted into an exhausted expression. Ragatha knew that it would make her feel better. But she could never let herself turn into that kind of monster.

The ringmaster hummed. This time it was a contemplative sound. He moved closer to her.

Ragatha snapped back into her body with the jarring force of an electric shock. Her skin crawled from the lingering sensation of Caine’s hand brushing against her back. She shuddered and curled into herself. “Don’t touch me,” she whimpered.

She wanted to be touched.

“Excuse—?”

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” Ragatha wailed.

Only by a human. Only ever by a human.

Every digital sensation slammed into her with a vengeance. The lights were too bright. The couch was too stiff. Caine was too close, and her body was too everything. “Don’t,” she whined. “Don’t, don’t, don’t…”

“Um…” Caine itched his jaw. “My apologies, Miss Ragatha! I simply noticed that your back needed some minor repairs! I may have made the birds too ambitious in my latest wondrous adventure.”

Ambitious. That was a funny word for bloodthirsty. But Ragatha’s hand found her back, and she found every rip patched back up like nothing had ever happened. The panic subsided and she slowly uncurled herself. Caine’s unwelcome touch faded away from her skin. He’d only meant to help her. Now he was staring at her, clearly baffled but still smiling. His lower jaw dipped when he took a sip of his drink.

Ragatha knew she should apologize for overreacting. She probably hurt his feelings.

She said nothing. She stared at the drink in his hand. Why was it purple?

“I don’t suppose you’d like a sip?” Caine extended the glass. 

“What is it?” Ragatha asked. She tentatively accepted the drink. She raised it to her mouth.

“A fascinating new experiment! It’s—”

Ragatha spat it out. “Mouthwash!” she gagged. It was like a mint explosion in her mouth, blasting her head with painful clarity. “You’re…drinking mouthwash? Why?!”

The answer hit her before Caine could even speak.

SWALLOW MOUTHWASH!!

Ragatha laughed. “Oh my god…Oh my god, Caine! You don’t even understand that Jax…that he was…” Insulting you. Ragatha laughed even harder. She was close to crying.

“…Mmmmmaking a helpful suggestion?” Caine tried, pointing a finger in the air.

IT is a COMPUTER! It’s not real!

That thing you’re suddenly sooooo protective of is just a disgusting imitation! 

God, Ragatha hated when Jax was right. But could there have been a better time? The humor was turning into anger. It was turning into rage and grief and fear, years and years of fear.

Ragatha could feel herself on the same precipice of emotion that she’d been on years ago, when she felt the loose threads of a damaged doll beneath her fingers. She turned to Caine, who politely plucked the drink from her grasp when she offered it back. He raised it toward his mouth. His entire face was a mouth.

Not to, like, agree with Jax or anything, Pomni spoke timidly by the softball field, but there’s nothing wrong with showing your negative emotions. That’s…pretty normal.

At the time, Ragatha had disagreed with her. She didn’t want to be a jerk. Not in a world where one wrong word could doom a human to Abstraction forever.

But Caine wasn’t a human, was he? He was the artificially intelligent host of a video game world, programmed solely for the purpose of entertainment.

So when it came down to the bones of it,

What was he, but a toy? 

“A toy that nobody loves,” Ragatha huffed beneath her breath, and the drink paused by Caine’s teeth.

“Hmmm?” he hummed, quirking his upper jaw like an eyebrow. “What was—Ah,” his glass shattered when it slipped from his grasp to the floor. Caine stilled for a moment. It was an odd look for him. Eventually, he reached for the needle. He grabbed it gingerly and pulled it from his face. His blue eye studied the green one, which was stuck onto the needle like a grotesque kebab. Caine glanced at Ragatha with the eye that was still intact. “I think your hand slipped,” he noted, waving the needle.

Caine grinned, “No matter! I will just—” He pulled the needle out, and the eyeball flew sporadically around the room like a leaking balloon. There were wacky sound effects, complete with a cartoony splat! when the eyeball landed on the floor, reduced to nothing more than a puddle of goo. 

“…Uh oh. There goes Jeffrey. Oh well!” He leaned conspiratorially closer to Ragatha and nudged her with his elbow. “Between you and me, he was getting a little lazy.” He clapped his hands. “Time for a newer model!”

In an instant they were surrounded by Caine’s hundreds of all-seeing eyes. He glanced around until he chose the one he wanted. “YOU!!” The green eyeball audibly yelped and tried to make a run for it, but his mouth lunged like a crocodile and snapped around it. Caine’s jaws retreated back to his shoulders while the remaining eyeballs shivered in fear and darted away. “There!” he chirped and pointed to his new, green iris. “Meet Jeffrey the Second! I think his middle name will be George. Oh—and I believe this is yours!” 

He handed her the needle, the one that she’d jabbed into his eye without a single, fleeting moment of guilt.

Ragatha couldn’t hurt Caine. No matter what she did, or what she said. She could be honest. Finally, she could be honest. She wasn’t going to Abstract. Not tonight.

The ringmaster’s hand inched toward his notebook when she stood from the couch. “Going back to bed? It will be good to get some rest before tomorrow’s grand adventure! You’re going to love it, Miss Ragatha. I put extra effort into making this one especially—”

“Nobody enjoys your adventures,” said Ragatha. There was a thrilling sensation of snapping thread when she turned for one last glance at the computer. His jaws had stilled. His eyes were huge. “Don’t you get it, Caine?” Ragatha sighed. She was tired. “Everyone in the circus. Every single human you’ve ever tried to entertain. We’d all be so much happier if you’d never even been made.”

Ragatha returned to her room, and she went to bed. Never in her digital life could she remember feeling so relieved. The haze in her head was gone. The static in her body subsided. She felt good. She felt human. 

As far as she was concerned, there was only one rag doll in the entire Amazing Digital Circus. The rag doll that she’d left discarded on the couch. Before she left, it had admitted to its own inhumanity.

“You are just a computer, aren’t you?” she’d asked when its programming failed to generate a reply.

It stared back at her. For once, it bore no semblance to the humans that it had always tried too hard to imitate.

“I AM.”