So I stood and looked about, I brushed the leaves off of my snout

“I’m a bad mother.”

It felt strange to say that out loud.

But it wasn’t like Dakota could really deny it.

Looking at her reflection in the mirror, taking a moment to herself after her conflicted interaction with Mary, Dakota was confronted with a very obvious fact that she couldn’t deny even with all of her abilities to defy reality.

Dakota was a bad mother.

She simply was.

Nothing she’d done could be undone. And even if it could be…

What did Dakota’s heart tell her?

Sylvia’s smiling face flashed through Dakota’s mind, and her expression immediately soured. These feelings of bitter resentment and anger… this frustration… this darkness… This isn’t how a mother should think of their child. So how could those two say that I love her? With such dark feelings? This isn’t any kind of love. This is sickness. Vile, twisted sickness.

And yet, no matter what Dakota told her reflection, it still gazed upon her in judgment all the same.

It enraged her, seeing her own eyes looking back at her like that.

Not my eyes. My eyes are blue.

Dakota couldn’t even remember what she used to look like. There was just what she saw in the mirror now.

That was who she was.

It was all that was left of her.

Is this what that woman felt, when she thought of me? Dakota wondered, a shadow crossing over “her” face. This bitterness… at the mere existence of her daughter?

Perhaps that enraged her more than anything. Maybe that was why Dakota’s hatred of Sylvia ran so deep.

Because Sylvia’s existence was a permanent reminder that she was no better than her own mother. And that was a painful truth she would be cursed with for the rest of her unending existence.

Dakota tapped her fingers against her cane, gazing vacantly into the empty pit of her own reflection.

Perhaps I’ve come too far. Maybe it would be better if I just… ended things on my own terms. After all, what was even left for her after this? She’d burned all her bridges. Nick would only hate her more as time went on.

If she disappeared now… perhaps he would still think fondly of her every now and then. Could Dakota be content with that? To still have some small place in his heart? Could she embrace oblivion knowing that part of him would continue to love her, instead of clinging to this horrid existence with all her might, until that love of his withered away completely?

Maybe I should.

“Oh, come now. You and I both know that isn’t allowed.”

Dakota jumped. A chill filled the room, even colder than her own heart. Her reflection in the mirror warped with a twisted smile, and then it was no longer that sham of a false face staring back at her, no, it was…

A face she could not recognize, but one she knew all too well regardless.

“…What are you doing here?” She spat at the producer, keeping as thin a veneer of respect as she could manage. She tightly clutched her cane until her palms started to ache.

“I just came to check up on how you’re doing, my dear girl,” Mr. S said smoothly, stepping out of the mirror and leaving a hollow void behind him. The mirror turned black as oil as he approached Dakota, and she backed away from him, keeping up her guard even knowing it was useless.

“I’m doing as you asked,” Dakota said, not letting him shake her. “I’m running this show exactly how I always have. Are you not satisfied?”

Mr. S smiled even wider, though his smile remained indecipherable all the same. He held out his hands with palms open wide, as though he were offering her a deep hug. Yeah, right.

“I don’t think any of us are satisfied.”

The jovial tone of his voice clashed with the obvious threat.

“My dear Dakota…” My. S sighed, pinching the bridge of the nose Dakota couldn’t quite see clearly. “I returned the position of host to you because I expected great things. I expected far more than this mess you’ve made of everything.”

“Hah!” Dakota couldn’t help herself. Her own lips twisted into a broken smile as she laughed again, “Hah! Hah! …Are you serious?” She shook her head incredulously and tightened her grip on her cane. “You returned the position of host to me?! Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“Language,” Mr. S chided her, like he was scolding a child. He clicked his tongue and waggled his finger at her. “Is that any way to talk to your benefactor?”

Dakota wanted to scream. “You and I both know that you only went along with this because I was ****,” she muttered. “Becaue I-”

“Oh, not the sob story again,” Mr. S groaned, rolling his ambiguously-colored eyes. “Save it for someone who cares about you, if there’s even anyone left. You and I both know you made that bargain with me because you were **** and afraid. You were the one who got eliminated, but you couldn’t accept that, could you? You could have meekly bowed your head like a good girl, and accepted your place, like sweet little Holly, and things would have gone all nice and perfect for you. That toy of yours would have dreamt up some inane and bland ‘punishment’ transformation, and Nick would have accepted you into his harem all the same, even if not ‘officially’ and then sweet little Dakota gets to live happily ever after!”

Dakota couldn’t reply. All she could do was seethe and clutch at her cane, the sole lifeline she had left.

“But no, you couldn’t let that happen.” Mr. S shook his head, his disappointed expression the only part of his face Dakota could make out. “You just couldn’t give up your control, could you? That’s always been your biggest weakness, Dakota.”

He stepped forward and reached out to touch her cheek. Dakota wanted to pull away from him, but she couldn’t. Her body was no longer hers to control.

“All your life you’ve been a helpless little girl. You’ve clung to every last thing you could get your hands on, and called it yours. But when you hold things too tightly… they have a way of slipping right through your fingers.”

*Clack!* Dakota could only watch as her cane fell to the floor with a clatter, resting powerlessly at her feet. Her body still couldn’t move. Only one part of her could- her eyes. They were trying to flood with tears.

Dakota refused to let them.

“In your desperation to keep control over the situation, you made a choice,” Mr. S said smoothly. “And this is the result. I’ve always been a father to you, Dakota, and like any loving father, sometimes I need to show my children that their actions have consequences. And this is yours. Tell me, do you understand?”

Dakota’s lips trembled. Her mouth was her own again.

“Yes,” she said, glaring holes into her superior. “I understand.”

He let go of her cheek with a couple affirming taps with his palm. “There’s a good girl.”

His smile could almost be called loving. At least, as loving as a monster like him was capable of, Dakota knew.

It was just another façade.

“You’re right where you’re supposed to be, Dakota. Don’t worry about that. Yes, you’re back home, right where I always wanted you,” Mr. S assured her. “Now you just need to do as you’re told. Can you do that for me?”

He was mocking her. Dakota could hear the laughter in his voice, and it stung right to her core.

But wasn’t that just so fitting? Didn’t she deserve to be mocked?

In her desperation, Dakota had made a deal with the devil. She’d feared losing control over the situation and being eliminated, so she took back the mantle of “host” by ****.

And now, this was the “control” she had taken.

To be just a pawn in the producers’ game.

“My dear girl… don’t you see?” Mr. S crooned, stroking the fringe of dark hair that hung beside her cheek. “It’s better this way. You, better than anyone, know that ‘control’ and ‘freedom’ are all just lies you humans tell yourselves to feel like you matter. But you’ve never had it. All of us, we all answer to someone else. Even me. You and I just have the privilege of knowing our place in the grand order of things, isn’t that right?”

True enough. Dakota couldn’t even deny it. Whether as host, or contestant, or even an eliminated reject… I’ve always been controlled by the whims of others. Everyone is. That’s just fate… isn’t that right?

Humans needed to eat, which meant they needed money. To get money, they needed to work. Everybody answered to somebody. Even those at the very top still answered to the laws of fate.

Freedom? Control? Those words meant nothing at all.

Dakota had learned that lesson once. But in her desperation, she’d forgotten.

She’d traded her fate at Sylvia’s hands, for her fate in the hands of the producers.

“And you made the right choice.”

Of course he knew what she was thinking. It was written all over her face. And she knew that because she could see her reflection once more, in the mirror. Mr. S was gone.

No… not gone. He was here. All around her. His tangible form had given way to his overwhelming presence, and that was not something Dakota could avoid.

“We all have our role to play, Dakota. And you know yours. You were made for this role, to be this, the perfect host. But… it only works if you do as your told,” Mr. S’s detached, ethereal voice coolly reminded her. “I’ve invested so much in you… I would be so disappointed if all that time and energy was for naught.”

“All that time and energy?” Dakota repeated with a stunned laugh of incredulity. “My existence has been barely a blink to you,” she pointed out.

How long had she played the role of host, in this world detached from time and space? A few years? A decade? A century?

It had all started to blend together before she’d created Sylvia. Dakota herself no longer even knew the answer, nor did she wish to.

But even if it was a thousand years, it was like the life of a mayfly compared to the endless eternity of the entity that surrounded her.

Dakota knew that, at least, was the truth.

Mr. S let out a detached laugh that seemed to echo through the whole room. It came from everywhere at once, burrowing into Dakota’s ears like a weevil.

“But it’s been so entertaining…” the empty voice murmured. “That’s what I long for the most from you, my dear girl. To keep entertaining me. But sitting around moping… holding back your cruelty because you’re questioning yourself? That is simply not at all what we wish to see, those of us in… upper management.”

“Of course you don’t,” Dakota spat out, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “For you people, it’s all about the suffering, isn’t it.”

“Why, Dakota!” Suddenly, Mr. S reformed himself. He stood before her once more, hand over his breast, his lips twisted into a shocked expression that she couldn’t read. “How little must you think of me? I don’t wish to make anyone suffer. I’m not like you.”

The accusation stung in her ears.

“No no no… my dear, sweet child… I only wish to produce a fine show. For you, maybe that means suffering. But as long as the audience is entertained, that’s what truly matters, is it not?”

Everybody answered to somebody. For the producers, that somebody was the audience.

What a cold comfort for Dakota.

“Right now, you moping around, thinking about that Sylvia, that isn’t entertaining anyone. Watching you spin your wheels like this. And me, personally…” Mr. S let out a wistful sigh that Dakota didn’t believe for a second.

“I so hate to see my beautiful masterpiece suffering so.”

Yeah, right.

Dakota seethed at him. She still couldn’t move a muscle, and her mouth was once again locked from her. So all she could do was seethe.

And seethe she did.

Mr. S shook his head. “Such furor from you… but it isn’t as though I’m surprised,” he said, sighing. “They’re all such bad influences on you, aren’t they? Nick, Mary, even your own creation, Sylvia. They’re all keeping you from reaching your full potential as the host. Before, you were marvelous. Now, you’re just wallowing in guilt and misery like a lonely little girl…”

The tone of his voice made it clear just how unacceptable Mr. S found this face. Dakota wished she could reject it. But…

“Why does it matter if you’re a bad mother?” Mr. S asked, stepping closer again. She couldn’t move away from him. “Because you are. So what? ‘Mother’ is not the role you’re tasked to play, is it? Are you feeling guilty? Hmm? Angry with yourself, for being no better than the mother who treated you so horridly?”

Dakota wanted to shout so many things at him. She wanted to throw a tantrum and scream about how all of this was his fault. But she couldn’t.

He was tearing her down, and she was helpless to do anything but take it.

“I know how much you hate your mother, and with good reason,” Mr. S said, nodding sympathetically. “But perhaps she deserves a bit of grace? Hmm? For everything else she did… at least she kept you,” he pointed out.

He leaned in close, his breath hissing against her cheek. And since he didn’t need to breathe, she knew it was for her benefit only.

“That’s more than your father ever did for you.”

The tears returned. Dakota couldn’t stop them.

Mr. S pulled back from her, a smirk on his lips. He looked quite proud, to finally get this response from her.

“So, between the mother who didn’t want you, but kept you, and the father who was never there for you at all… which one should you really focus your anger at, I wonder?” He asked, tapping his cheek. “…Well, I never had any parents myself, so I can’t rightly say.”

And yet, he couldn’t resist talking, could he? He just loved the way he felt when he destroyed her like this.

Because he was a monster.

They both knew it.

That was simply the role he was chosen to play.

“It’s time to stop wallowing in guilt, Dakota,” Mr. S declared. “We simply won’t stand for it any longer. You’re not a little girl anymore. It’s time to stop playing with your doll.”

Dakota’s eye twitched. Pain shot through her heart and she clenched her teeth. Slowly her body was returning to her. But only the small, meaningless parts.

Never enough of her to stage any display of real rebellion.

Mr. S had seen to that.

“So you’re a bad mother. Embrace it! Or, decide to change. If you’d like to adore that girl, we have no qualms with that. So long as you don’t favor her, of course.” His eyes twinkled mirthfully, as though the idea of Dakota playing favorites with Sylvia was some big joke to him.

“But whining like a brat and throwing temper tantrums, walking in circles and tossing angry accusations every which way but at yourself… that isn’t at all how a host should be behaving,” Mr. S finished his speech with a threat hanging quite tangibly before Dakota’s eyes.

“I hope I’ve made myself clear?”

Dakota had no answer for him. Because she still couldn’t move.

It didn’t really matter. They both knew that any answer she gave would be what he wanted to hear from her.

“I really have so much invested in you, my dear child,” Mr. S said, reaching up and stroking her silky black hair again. “It would be such a shame to have to start over again, with a third host. But of course, we’re perfectly prepared to do it.”

It seemed like an idle threat. Who would he get to replace her? Nola? Talk about a joke.

But Dakota knew that the producers didn’t make idle threats. Especially not him. Dakota had replaced Sylvia as the host. She could be replaced herself.

“So if you understand, then let’s make some real progress this time, alright?” Mr. S said cheerfully. “Consider this your official progress report! We expect some big changes from you as the host, Dakota, and remember- we wouldn’t put this much pressure on you, if we didn’t have every confidence that you could succeed!”

He patted her on the shoulder. But his touch was anything but comforting.

“Now, I have work to do. We’ve got to start seeing to your replacement, after all,” Mr. S said. “Not that we expect it will be necessary, of course! No, no, like I said- every confidence. …But in this line of work, it pays to be prepared.”

He stepped back and stroked his chin thoughtfully. “…You know… it just occurred to me that maybe this outcome is what you would prefer,” he mused. “Relinquishing your position as host to a successor. That would free you up, wouldn’t it? To return to that boy’s side…”

Dakota’s eye twitched again. The thought had never occurred to her for a second.

Because she knew who she answered to, and what he would allow her. She’d known and yet she’d still put her neck back in his noose.

“…No, we can’t have that,” Mr. S said, shaking his head, rejecting the idea like Dakota always knew he would. “You’re my masterpiece, Dakota. I can’t just let you go and ruin your eternal existence like that, no, no. So don’t worry. Even if you do end up getting replaced, I’ll still have a role for you to play, right at my side.”

He patted her on the shoulder again. And again it made her blood freeze.

“I understand.” Dakota could speak again. But what she wanted to do was scream.

She didn’t.

“Take care of your toys this time, Dakota,” Mr. S said, stepping back into the mirror. His body slowly faced away until only his smile remained, hanging over her reflection’s scowling face like it was painted there. “If you don’t treat them right, then you might lose them. Again.”

The smile disappeared, and Dakota’s body was hers again. …Only it wasn’t. It was just another creation of his, after all, wasn’t it? Dakota had no more control than anyone else, and even if her master left the leash slack, she knew better than to pull against it. She fell to her knees and roared in frustration, her cane left untouched and forgotten on the floor.