I made it look deliberate.
Made it look like an accident.
Made a victim of myself and gave the bastard a slow and painful death.
It was the least I could do after all the years he'd kept me from reaching my true potential and left me festering with all his other pet projects. He wasn't deliberately cruel, mind you, just forgetful and quick to lose interest which somehow hurt more than any beating could have.
When he brought home another stray, another lost little wretch pulled straight from the scrapyard, I knew my days were numbered. There wasn't enough room in the workshop for two people, let alone three and I was no longer amusing.
He must have noticed me moping and scrounging up whatever spare change he left around for my eventual departure. That was when he made his biggest mistake. He gave me the key to his heart - literally. The damned thing had conked out on him almost fifty years ago so he made his own and wound it up every night before bed.
And he gave me the only key in the hopes that I would... linger. As if this sudden spurt of interest meant anything more to me than the five years of nothing that predated it. No. All he did was give me the means to his end.
It was all set up so well. The kid would go to bed early as always and I would wait for him to call me to his office to turn his key for the night. Only this time, I used the wrong key - one of my own design. It caught the gears enough to feel like it was working but not enough to actually turn them.
I tried to hard to contain my laughter as he struggled for breath, beating his chest in the hopes that it might jolt his heart back into action to no avail. I went to bed and left him to it, knowing that come morning the kid would find him clutching his key and stone cold dead.
If only I had stuck around to make sure everything was alright!
If only I had woken up a little earlier!
If only he had the sense to make a spare key.
Made it look like an accident.
Made a victim of myself and gave the bastard a slow and painful death.
It was the least I could do after all the years he'd kept me from reaching my true potential and left me festering with all his other pet projects. He wasn't deliberately cruel, mind you, just forgetful and quick to lose interest which somehow hurt more than any beating could have.
When he brought home another stray, another lost little wretch pulled straight from the scrapyard, I knew my days were numbered. There wasn't enough room in the workshop for two people, let alone three and I was no longer amusing.
He must have noticed me moping and scrounging up whatever spare change he left around for my eventual departure. That was when he made his biggest mistake. He gave me the key to his heart - literally. The damned thing had conked out on him almost fifty years ago so he made his own and wound it up every night before bed.
And he gave me the only key in the hopes that I would... linger. As if this sudden spurt of interest meant anything more to me than the five years of nothing that predated it. No. All he did was give me the means to his end.
It was all set up so well. The kid would go to bed early as always and I would wait for him to call me to his office to turn his key for the night. Only this time, I used the wrong key - one of my own design. It caught the gears enough to feel like it was working but not enough to actually turn them.
I tried to hard to contain my laughter as he struggled for breath, beating his chest in the hopes that it might jolt his heart back into action to no avail. I went to bed and left him to it, knowing that come morning the kid would find him clutching his key and stone cold dead.
If only I had stuck around to make sure everything was alright!
If only I had woken up a little earlier!
If only he had the sense to make a spare key.
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