"Great. Another Wybie."

If he had eyes, he would have rolled them. As it was, he only smiled.

"Hello, Why-Were-You-Born."

Obviously self-centered, fixated only on her own wants and desires. A child in way over her little blue head. She saw only the surface, unbothered to see anything below it. So easily fooled by trinkets and games and shallow items, so quick to believe sweet lies.

No wonder Mother was so fond of this one.


"I thought you'd like him more if he spoke a little less. So I fixed him."

Fixed. Everything from that plane to this was fixed. Better. Perfect. Without flaw. Mother did not tolerate imperfection, and yet she could not keep her eyes(if she had any, as it were) on her more advanced creations.

Oh, snapping snapdragons and grasshopper machines. Spying rats and vampire dogs. All so easy to create, so easy to control with an almost absent thought. It was much harder to keep self-aware beings on a leash. She could not catch every stray thought, could not control every movement every moment of the day... It was much easier if she had fewer beings to create and handle.

Maybe it was because Mother was so fond of this one that he felt her strength diminishing much faster than with any child before. Maybe she did care about the child-although he had no doubt that she cared about the children from before. She cared about each and every one of them, for a time, in her twisted, controlling way. She wanted something to love her, endlessly. But she just got so bored...

"So he can't talk at all?"


"Hmm. I like it."

He wants to sneer. Or maybe scoff. The child was so simple-minded, so absorbed in her own world, he was surprised she could acknowledge anything past her own nose. And it wasn't even her own world she was in! If it was, the foolish girl wouldn't be in this situation!

"You're awful cheerful considering you can't say anything."

Yeah, he was ray of sunshine.

"It didn't hurt, did it, when she..."


How curious was that?

Honestly, even he hadn't given a second thought to it... It was simply what Mother wanted. He might have been a bit more daring and defiant than good ol' original Wybie, but he was still Mothers creation. He still lived under her rules, her guidelines. Her word was still law. While he wasn't exactly bouncing for joy at his lack of voice, it wasn't entirely bad. Mother was under the impression that without a voice, he was without an internal opinion as well. That he simply did what was expected of him. That if he lacked a way to communicate, he lacked a will to defy.

The creature was so confident in her abilities, she barely questioned it. It was her overconfidence that gave Other Wybie his strength.

He could defy Mother.

He could displease Mother.

He could be his own person.

And she would never see it coming.

He was a pitiful creation, made from the image of a true soul and internally molded to become 'better' than his living-creature counterpart. There was no way, in this existance or in any other, that he would be able to destroy Mother with sheer strength or will alone. He would have to resort to a surprise attack; crippling her from behind with a blow so devastating she would be weak for a long time afterwards.

He simply lacked the How? to his surprise attack. How was he to surprise Mother? How was he to find the right means for such an attack? How was he to find the right time to launch such an attack? There was no possible way he could take her down by himself alone. He was nothing. He barely existed.

"It's wonderful, Wybie!"

Mice, jumping and creating such a lovely illusion he saw through with such ease he felt sick. The girl was next to him, enchanted by the lies.

There was something there, something barely there but strong enough he could feel it welling up in his chest.

"Do svedaniya, Coraline."

Mother. Smile, Other Wybie. Smile. Or else.

Something in his slumped, crumbled, blew away. The foolish girl was going to get herself killed. Or worse.

Gone, now. To the whitest edge of the world Mother did not bother to fill. Followed by the one thing Mother detested most, and could not control.

"You appear to have had a good time." The pest commented.

This time he did sneer.

"...You know," It began, sitting down and beginning to clean one paw. "She's not as blind as she appears. Simply lonely."

The feeling was welling up again, clawing the back of his throat and knocking against his teeth before sliding back down to get caught just in his chest.

What did the beast know?

She's going to die, he thought. She's going to die, all because she believes this to be her dream come true.

It cocked its head.

"I'll be sure to tell her so." The beast trotted off.

Everything goes by in a rush. The theater. Coraline. The rose. Watching her, balancing atop the witches as she clutches his flower in her hand and smiles so bright and so huge, he's blinded, and it's not the stage lights...

"You may come out when you've learned to be a loving daughter."

Her eyes are open.

Her eyes are open and she's finally seeing, finally seeing Mother for what she is. Seeing the world for what it is; a lie.

He does not find himself satisfied or even mildly, horribly amused as he thought he would be, no matter what expression Mother has sewed to his face.

He's just sad.

And then he realizes the How to his surprise attack. Now he is resigned.

Resigned but determined.

He was not expecting her to be as strong as a bloody mule, though.


He admits it. He cowered.

"Did she do this to you?"

He'd like to say something sarcastic. At the very least, he'd like to at least be able to think something sarcastic.

But he can't feel his cheeks, even as he's rubbing them(he's got so little time now, Mother knows, knows knows knows, he has to act quickly)and she's looking at him with such concern...

"Coraline? Is that you?"

And he realizes the time to act is now.

"Come on! She'll hurt you again!"

He wants to tell her there's no point, he can't feel anything. He wants to shake her until she finally has some sense to run. Instead, he pulls off his glove and lets her watch his hand fall apart.

Leave, he wants to say. Leave, leave now. This will be you. All will be pointless if you die.

"How dare you disobey your mother!"

No more time.

His body moves before he realizes what he's doing, and then she's gone.

She'll be his strength. The attack is over; the surprise is out in the open. And Mother will soon find him, and he will be lost.

But not forgotten.

He sighs.