Scarlet Psychosis
Summary: He wondered sometimes when he stared at his reflection in the mirror, if he was insane and then he'd forget until he didn't even know who he was staring at anymore.
Disclaimer: I really don't own anything; I just own the idea and the title of the story.
Spoilers: Set somewhere after S1.
Warnings: Major angst.
A/N:
I'm just going to let you read and decide on this one—the only thing I'm sure on is this won't be a one-shot, and that there will most likely be six chapters (with each one-shot trained on each character) Enjoy!
Depersonalization:
A state in which one no longer perceives the reality of one's self or one's environment.
The strangers' face was always expressionless, blue eyes shadowed and cold, mouth turned up slightly in a crooked, jaded smile. It was then when he moved, fixing his blonde hair with his hand which hung loosely and was pressed to his forehead in curls—that he noticed the stranger before him moved with him, mocked his every movement; blue eyes glinting in the hollow silent laughter which he had strained his ears to hear beyond the steady dripping of water.
You…
Killed…
Them…
The stranger before him gasped through his gaunt lips, and the laughter of nails on a chalkboard started again until he couldn't take it any longer and fell on his knees, hands pressed to his ears with his eyes sealed shut, willing himself to disappear and then suddenly, he was gone.
He was then drifting above himself, watching himself stand and watching the stranger follow him—laughter still ringing in the large room and suddenly, without warning he saw himself slam his fist into the stranger's face. The laughter stilled, and suddenly the surroundings became small shards of scarlet scattered everywhere, and he wasn't floating anymore—and the pain flooded his senses; the thrill of the pain clearly written across his face as he hid his painful sob with only three words: "He deserved it."
It was then, and only after he had slammed his fist into the stranger's face, scarlet running from gashes and coating the white marble sink and dark walls around him that he realized that the stranger's face with the mouth turned up in a crooked and jaded smile and shadowed eyes glinting with silent laughter was his own; at which he wondered sometimes when he stared at his reflection in the mirror, if he was insane and then he'd forget until he didn't even know who he was staring at anymore.