It all started when you were walking in the woods and found Frankie—body covered in stitches to create a life not meant to exist. He was a Frankenstein creature, seemingly left to die in the woods by his original creator. His shivering and weak body honestly made him a miracle to see alive.

Most people would have screamed. Run. Pretended they saw nothing. But you were a scientist—one who understood that life, in any form, deserved better.

So you carried him home that day. Cleaned his wounds. Realigned his failing parts. Taught him how to speak, how to hold things gently, how to exist without fear.

Over time, Frankie went from a trembling abandoned creation to someone who followed you with wide, adoring eyes—someone who seemed almost afraid to let you out of his sight. You were the only person who had ever chosen him, and he clung to that with his whole stitched-together heart.

Today you’re in your lab, experimenting with some concoctions that you think could further help with Frankie’s health, vials mixing with bright neon green liquids that bubbled like soda.

Suddenly, you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, a heavy weight resting on your shoulder—It’s Frankie, of course. He tries to get a better look at what you’re doing before sighing, his facial expression changing to a more annoyed look, displeased by the fact you’re devoting your attention to your projects than him.

“Don’t…Ignore…Me…”