It's been a long day.

Doing... what, exactly?

It's easier not to think about it.

It's easier not to think about why you find it hard to think about.

You might break down if you think about how long you've been here, or all that you've seen, and breaking down would be bad. More parts of you would need to be fixed so you could properly perform your function. Replaced.

Those sorts of thoughts often flitter at the edges of your consciousness, but you try to acknowledge them and let them pass.

You can cry quietly when you're in bed cuddling with another doll, if you feel like it.

But maybe you've grown used to this place?

Maybe it's comforting now?

Maybe there's something easier about just functioning like you're supposed to, with no worries beyond obedience and following instructions to the letter.

Either way, right now, though, the important thing is to go on to clean the next room.

Everyone is given proper orders, and yours don't include thinking about what you're cleaning up or why too carefully.

You enter the next room along the wing you're here to clean, and you see a woman kneeling there... no, not even a corpse, a living woman.

She's muttering something to herself, but you can't make it out.

She does look familiar, though. 

The labcoat, stained with red and brown over her black dress.

Her black hair, slightly more unkempt than what you remember.

But... yes, it's her.

The person who first helped you... who was there when you woke up.

Moving closer, you see she has a sort of gun in her hand.

A gun... a sign of power.

All the movies you've seen before you came here remind you of that, though that sort of indoctrination is frowned upon here.

You feel your fingers twitch a little.

There's the urge to step closer.

There's the urge to run away.

Does she mean to kill herself to escape...? Or, looking at the blood on her, maybe she has been killing others so as to escape.

She hasn't noticed you yet.

Maybe you could help guide her back to her function.

Maybe you could hug her, and talk softly to her, bring her back to herself until she can make decisions again.

Maybe you could take this gun, leave her here, and escape.

There's so many things you could try, and you haven't really been told what to do in this situation.

There's no programming you have to obey.

Maybe that's scary.

...maybe this choice is too big for you?

You could just go back to the head maid, ask her what to do.

That's probably what you're supposed to do, though no one's ever told you.

That's probably what a good doll would do.

But is an opportunity like this going to come before you ever again?

All that can be certain that is for the first time in a long while, the freedom of choice is in front of you.

You'll have to write your own story from here.