Behind the Puppets

It's both a blessing and a curse, being able to manipulate my masterpieces in such a way that makes them seem to come alive. The truth it, they control me. I don't want to alarm you, but my soul is not controlled by me, rather by the demons that reside within Bilbin and Barris, the puppets. One is dressed as a clown and the other like a lawyer. They do skits on the streets and in clubs, but they do not give my body rest. My legs are twisted yet I still walk, my fingers cramp and yet I still act, my voice is gone and yet I still speak. My will isn't my own anymore. I've tried to take control, but they are too powerful for me to even stand on my own. Their spirits combined, make my body last forever, with the exception of needing food and water. I tried to starve myself, but they force me to eat. With all the gigs and shows they put on, money is never an issue, so they buy anything they want. The true horror is that I can't die. I want to die. Just put me out of this endless suffering. I don't deserve this. I wanted to entertain people. They weren't on me before. I don't want them on me anymore. I never pushed towards this. I might just go insane soon though. My family is dead, those puppets did all the work. I'm not getting arrested, because nobody else knows I exist, other than the people I entertain. I changed my name, not by my own choice of course. I'm sure I'm sick because I keep coughing over and over, sometimes in the middle of my shows. Blood comes out, but I try not to show it. It isn't easy, but I can grow into it, right? Either I go insane or I let them win. I can't see any other option. I am in my house now, giving shows to myself in my bathroom mirror. Suddenly the door opens. I peer out to the living room to see what looks like SWAT teams rush in. They don't have SWAT vests, though. I see one of the tags on the left of their uniforms. SCP