Blurry.
The world is... blurry.

What's this weight in my hand?
A rock. A red rock. A warm, red rock?
Blood. A bloody rock.

That heap looks an awful lot like a body.
Is that... me?
It can't be.
There's no way.

The rock hits the grass as I bend down to examine the body.
It looks like me, but... where's the face?
I touch my head. Blood.
What?

This body can't stay.
I can't stay here.
A faceless body, a bloody rock?

Looking at the body gives me a sudden sense of nostalgia.
It's like... I've done this before.
Have I?
Done this before?

The obscure path in the grass tells me where to go.
I drag the body, further flattening the grass.
Oh. So that answers the question.

The journey is long.
My body is heavy.
I don't like this.

But the body needs to be buried.
I can't be caught a murderer.

The path led to a field.
A large field.
With graves.
Too many graves for me to bother stomaching the thought of counting.

The grave had already been dug, the only missing aspect being the body.
I rolled it in and it crumpled up, looking... disrupted.
Wrong.

I shoveled dirt over the body.

Wake up.
Wake up?
Awake?

The alarm is calling my name.
I'm in bed?
Where did the field go?
It must be real.

When I look in the mirror, the blood is still everywhere.
And the bloody rock rests in my hand.

"Hi, how are you today?"

"Oh, you're much different!"

"I like this new you."

"Thank you for becoming what I wanted."

You're welcome... you're all welcome.
It's not what I wanted... but that's okay.
As long as you're happy, heh.
That's all that matters, right?
Your happiness.
Yours.

I don't like this...
I'm sorry...
I changed... the way you wanted.
I did what you asked.

I can't anymore.
I can't do this to myself.
... I'm sorry.
I should've listened.
Yes, I apologize.
You're right.
Always.

But what if... what if I was happy as them?
They were pretty nice... I liked being that person.
No, I understand.
There's no going back.
I'm sorry for questioning it.

"You don't have to change for me, darling."

I... don't?
But... I just buried her.
Fae's dead.
... you liked him?
They were just an old version that someone else abhorred.

... you never want me to change?
But... I don't know how.
Everyone else... they said... they wanted something different.

You mean I can... leave it be?
But I don't know how.
I'm so used to murder.
There's just no going back.

She died.
She died, too.
She died countless times.
Finally, they died.
Then it was him. He died next.
Fae was the most recent.
Fae was happy.
But fae had to go... right?

She was taught to kill... even though they, he, and fae just don't understand.

She was she before they, he, and fae were ever around.

The others taught her to always be ashamed.
The others told her she was a loser.
She was a wannabe.
She was annoying.
A spoiled, entitled, self-absorbed little brat.

She doesn't know any better.
She's too scared of herself to trust they and he and fae with the future.

They'll all die countless times over.
Because little prince is too scared to hold it together.

They and he and fae are she.
They and he and fae and she are one.

But she's been through more.
She faced the intolerance.
She's told her other selves are a sin.
She's told to hide away because she's a girl.
She's so sick of being she when they and he and fae are right there.

She hates the rock.
She hates the field.
She wants it all to stop.

She wants it to stop.
Stop!
She wants it... to just...
Stop.

"I'll always love you, little prince."

... you will?