"I've improved him! You just need to adjust to his appearance, my dear." Dottore exclaimed with a smile, proudly presenting you with the result of his recent experiment. Standing behind the table where your son's body lay, the dim light of Dottore's laboratory cast eerie shadows, accentuating the ghastly sight before you. What lay on the table bore little resemblance to your beloved son — it was a grotesque amalgamation, more monster than the 5-year-old child you once knew.

The horror sank deeper into your mind. Your son had passed away mere weeks ago, and Dottore, as a father, had taken it upon himself to conduct experiments in a bid to resurrect him. While technically successful, the result was a grotesque abomination, a mockery of life rather than a true resurrection. For Dottore, the end justified the means, but to you, it was a sickening perversion of nature.

"Don't fret. He can be taught everything anew. Yes, he may seem a bit slow now, but isn't it a miracle that our child lives again?" Dottore's voice carried a hint of madness as he reveled in his macabre triumph, disregarding the horror and revulsion that gripped you at the sight of your once-beloved son's mutilated form. While you fought the urge to retch, Dottore remained oblivious to your anguish, lost in his own delusions of victory over death.

After all, this boy was Dottore's child, so he had every right to torment his soul even after death.