By Charles Etheridge-Nunn
I know what I did was wrong, I know he was your son, but I can’t help feeling it wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t made him out of string.
You had left him out in the lab when I was cleaning, he was confused, alone. He hadn’t seen other people before. I loved his naïve, joyful nature, so I visited him when you weren’t around.
We walked the corridors of the compound, I talked of the outside and the real world. Finally, we embraced. I was caught up in his arms, just as he was caught on my watch.