Prelude: an A/N.

Everything feels like a cycle. Wake up, cry, wonder why we can't escape, kill people out of anger for our own deaths, eat, sleep, repeat. It drives us mad. We're angry, we're vicious, we're violent. Why can't we just have something nice? We will find the exit, it just requires a lack of sanity and a shit ton of betrayal.

Or

Identity plays with his new dolls.