Chapter 21:

Part 2- Chapter 11

Snowflake and Butterknife

Sim wasnt the biggest fan of being cooped up in small spaces. However, Reynard's place was much larger than his cell. Edwin had even brought him clothes recently! The food in the metal cold box that Reynard called a fridge was so good too! The thing they called Butter was just so good, he was just sad at how little there was in a stick.

The TV helped Sim learn about the outside world, but he also found negatives to it. Sometimes memories would appear, not his memories but the memories of people he had absorbed.

Sim had always called it eating, since it felt the same to him. Gema had said that it worked differently, as what he ate he also absorbed which led to the misconception. He never knew how he managed to do this, he just could.

A flicker of a memory came into his mind, watching the show that Sim was watching now with a family. They all seemed so happy, his mothers face was so happy at the stupid joke on the TV. The house smelled like pumpkin spice from the candle near the window sill. It was chilly outside but the heat was on giving the place a very homely feel.

Sim returned to the present, he knew that was Loghain’s memories slipping through only due to seeing his parents at the funeral. He felt at his cheeks which had a line of tears rolling down them. He wasn't Loghain or the others, he was just the one who killed them.

Edwin had said that he had to save lives to make up for the lives he took, something Sim would do. But what use was he? He just killed people, he was just a monster.

Sim looked at his arm, he had torn them off to escape capture. Yet the stitches were still there. He rubbed at them, they weren't the same as when he first got them. They had been made of a strange string when they were first threaded into Sim. Now they were flesh that took on the exact same pattern. They even showed the slight imperfection in the man’s work, the slight space between two lines that was slightly too long.

He had his arms removed before back in the lab. Hell, he had most of his body parts removed at some point during his time there. The pain still stung from time to time. He felt the phantom pains of the chainsaw tear through his bones as he helplessly laid on the table, unable to do anything but scream and cry.

That doctor. The one who did this all, the one with the half eyebrow on his left side. Dark black hair, pale blue eyes, hawk nose, high cheekbones, front tooth crooked. He was fresh in Sim’s mind whenever he tried to remember the lab.

Father Doctor, that was what Sim had called him. He had been there longer than Sim could remember. The others would call him Doctor, but Sim was told to call him Father. He didn't understand what a Father was, but they said it was the person who raised you. Father Doctor said everyone at the lab was family, but that was a lie.

Why didn't he kill Father Doctor? When he was running, Father Doctor had found him, and just gave him that look. Disappointment. With that, Sim ran, and he ran hard. Men came after him, Mageye’s in black suits, no markings. They attacked Sim, wanted to bring him back, but he wouldn't. He was afraid, so very afraid, and that look was eating away at Sim, then he met Edwin.

It has been a strange time since then, he now lives in a house with a TV and a mattress. He has a fridge of food, Reynard’s grumpiness. It was like a new world to him. Yet he still could feel that look, and the memories of those he ate kept creeping in.

Sim sat hugging his legs, he wished he could remember where the lab was, yet he couldn't. It was like that memory was just gone. It was like it was, locked. He could feel the box that stored that memory, but it was wrapped in chains.

His eyes widened at something, someone he didn't kill. He felt his breath catch in his throat, how had he forgotten that man? The first he had seen after leaving. He approached Sim without concern, and touched Sim’s face. Large glasses with thick frames, Olive skin, nails that were chewed to the nub, dirty blonde ponytail, a cut on his lip. He touched Sim, and a part of him felt like it was put away on a shelf just out of reach.

Sim had run after that, unsure what was happening. The man looked shocked as Sim got up to move, and cursed under his breath. It was like he was trying to do something more, but he was stopped before he could. When Sim had started to run the man just watched angrily.

Who was that, and why did Sim forget about him till now? What did that man do to Sim? What would he have done? He would have taken him back wouldn't he. Sim grabbed at a piece of paper and a pen, then began to draw. He could see the man’s face and could vaguely draw it. He tossed aside the first sheet, the nose was wrong. The second had too large of a chin. He had to get the face right, he had to give Reynard and Edwin anything to help.

As Sim kept drawing the image in his head began to fog, were his eyes like that? What about the cut on the lip, was it towards the center of the side? He jotted down the details as best as he could in the hope to capture the memories. Could this man be the key to finding this lab? The key to finding out what happened to Sim? He held his breath and hoped it was.

Maybe Edwin and Reynard would be proud of him if he could get this picture right, if they could identify him. Maybe he could get Loric to stop giving him that look, maybe Nova would let him play with his puzzles. Maybe he could be apart of a real family.

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