1.
Culpable.

He led your mother to her death. He destroyed every photo of her. He left you behind while he reanimated her corpse into the replacement child you’ll never be.

You ran away from home when you were 11, and neither of you noticed the difference.

He needed you, at 14. Brought you in, put weights on your shoulders and asked you to carry the fate of the human race. Asked you to outrun the clock he’d started.

Not just you, of course. You weren’t enough. With you were the doll and the prodigy. The doll was the only thing that mattered; the prodigy an afterthought. All three of you risked life and limb against, unknowingly, his monsters, fought tooth and nail for his praise.

When the stakes got higher, praise wasn’t enough to balance what you had to do.

And then he brought you the angel.

And let it blossom.

And then made you crush it beneath your fingers.

All for his plan. Everything for his plan. For a goal he didn’t even meet.

Everything was your father’s fault.

2.
Absent.

Did he even give a shit about your family? You and your mother were nothing, just a vague concept outside of his life’s true meaning. All-encompassing work: a curse he passed on to you.

Your mother left, she took you with her, and everything was going to work out fine.

Until you end up in Antarctica.

Until it’s him who puts you in that capsule with his shaking hands and his dying breath.

He gave you nothing until that point, and then he gave you his life.

And now you’re trapped, cursed, continuing his life’s work and failing as a mother to the only childlike figure your life will ever have. Your father was never there but he haunts you every day.

3.
Infatuated.

You and your mother grew up in her work. You took up her trade as a measure of love, and she brought you with her to join in the quest.

But soon it wasn’t your work, mother and daughter.

It was his work. His ideas, his dreams, anything to make him look at her with even a shadow of approval.

He took your mother and made her into something unrecognizable. Something even she couldn’t stomach.

You learned everything from her, but not to avoid her mistakes.

Eventually he makes something new of you too.

4.
Dead.

Everything about you defined when you were a child: your mother was dead. A story of pity and sadness, isn’t it?

You’d hated your mother for leaving, hated your father for moving on like he’d been waiting for the chance. All you had was yourself; if you weren’t enough you’d die too.

But you were great. Until you weren’t.

And now you hate your mother because she failed to bring you too.

5.
????

Do you have parents? You have a template, and a creator. You have handlers and monitors and assigned caregivers. You have the beings from before, responsible for us all.

But you don’t have a mother or father.

And from observation, you escaped that burden unscathed.

Luke 21:16 “And ye shall be betrayed both by parents, and brethren, and kinsfolks, and friends; and some of you shall they cause to be put to death.”