Drocell paused, his grip on the string slackening a little. The question, just seven words, had stunned him. What was he made of? He wanted to say flesh and blood, and yet that didn't seem right somehow. But wait, humans were flesh and blood. Wasn't he human? He was sure of it...
"I am thinking I am human."
Even as he said it, he knew he was wrong. But he'd been so at some point. He remembered wandering the streets, box in hand, trying to earn money. He remembered the day he found a rather annoying lump on his head. He remembered the doctor telling him nothing could be done.
And then he was serving his master, turning lovely girls into living dolls. He couldn't remember meeting his master, nor could he remember the first doll he'd made.
"But lately termites have been coming out of my ears." As if to prove his point to the people below he stuck his finger in his ear and scratched it, the bugs coming out and falling to the floor.
He paid dearly for his distraction. The butler attacked him harshly, hitting him in the head hard enough to break his skull open. He gasped and hit the floor, the pain unbearable. He realized suddenly that he hadn't felt pain in a while, that he'd forgotten the sensation all together. He struggled to his feet, meaning to inform his master of the intrusion.
He remembered a young woman, staying at his bedside for days and days. She'd been kind to him, even as his body decayed slowly. What was her name? He'd really liked her, and he couldn't even remember her name.
He collapsed, his strength fading completely as the intruders followed him into the room. He felt cold, very cold.
He couldn't keep his mind off the woman who'd stayed by him fatefully. Who was she? He wished he could see her again, thank her for what she did.
He realized the pain had faded, and it was getting harder to think. He couldn't see, or even hear the others anymore. Was this what death felt like? He didn't want to die...
Drocells' mind went blank, and he fell into what felt like a dreamless sleep.
Grell sighed as the video ended. Poor guy. Really, it as all Angelas' fault that this had happened to him. The red-headed reaper gently took the soul out of the crudely made puppet shell and caressed it softly. He felt bad it had taken him so long to actually get back there to pick him up ."No one's going to hurt you again," he said soothingly, "I'll get you to where you belong."
The reaper disappeared in a gust of wind, leaving the castle empty and silent.