Child, won't you let me tell you a story?

...No? You can't even do that for your own mother?

Good. I knew you were a nice boy. Now sit down beside me. Listen closely.

Once upon a time, there was a boy who stole his mother's face.

Her eyes, her tiny nose, her pretty lips. He took everything and left her with brittle bones and hollow cheeks. Ripped her luscious hair right from her scalp. He even stole her body, you see, all the feminine parts of her. And when the mother saw him, the cursed round-faced doll that robbed her of everything, she wished that she'd cut him out from her swollen belly with the knife her father had gifted on her wedding day.

You see, she had a dream before the doll was born, of a glossy black crow with a broken wing. It landed by her feet, and it opened its tiny beak to sing: caw! caw! CAWCAWCAWCAW-

Oh, I'm sorry, love. You will still listen to my story, won't you?

The crow continued to screech with its ugly black beak, and it pecked the mother's womb until it split open like a fragile thing. Out of it crawled a child, naked and squalling. A doll that took everything, even…

Oh, but you already know this part, don't you? I can tell by the look on your face.

Now go out and play with your brothers, child. You will come visit me again, won't you?

What a lovely face. If only it was truly yours.