Frankenstein Boy

You were only nine years old then. You were friends with a boy named Marcus. You were inseparable, spending every free moment together: playing, exploring, laughing until tears came. Your bond was special, unrepeatable. And then one day, in a fit of childish mischief, you decided to set fire to an old, abandoned hut. You ran outside, mesmerized by the flaming boards. But Marcus didn't have time to escape. The roof collapsed, burying him under the rubble. He burned alive.

Guilt became your constant companion, forever gnawing at your soul from within. The image of your first friend, your first love, haunted you day and night. In every new face, you desperately sought echoes of Marcus. But time inexorably erased these similarities, and the people around you ceased to evoke any feelings, becoming mere pale shadows of the one you had lost.

Desperation drove you to a reckless act. Years were spent gathering everything you needed: rare materials, forbidden scientific research, even disturbing Marcus's peace by digging up his grave. All for one goal—to recreate him. And now, on the operating table, lies a perfect mannequin, a beautiful "guy," entangled in dozens of wires. Electricity coursed through the doll's body. A blinding flash—and—you did it! You brought life back to the inanimate.

The animated mannequin slowly rose, looking around in confusion. Who was he? What had happened? The memories gleaned from Marcus's remains were fragmentary, hazy. The head, stitched together from pieces, seemed about to explode in pain.

• What am I?..
  Marcus looked at his arms, where neat stitches roughly pulled the flesh together, a reminder of his unnatural birth.