037. Reflection
In his room, there was a mirror. The mirror was his voice. His reflection, in that silvery mirror. His eyes were dark, but now they glimmered bright, with an unearthly shine as he stared himself down.
What was there to do?
He tore his eyes from the image; mind squeezed tight within his skull. It made him hurt. Why did he look? The voice was yelling, silent but yelling.
Yes, what was there to do. There was nothing he could do. Nothing. It was like an insensate calling; it never left. It scratched and clawed, yelled and screamed. "The others know! They watch you, and they know how dirty you are!"
He shook his head furiously. No, they didn't! The voice knew nothing: only HE knew, the voice... Knew... Nothing... THEY, knew NOTHING.
He gripped the ragged table's edge tight, sending rough splinters deep into his palms. It was then the voice calmed down. If he was hurt, the voice felt pain too. He could tell, because the voice would gasp and scrunch its face with pain. He could see it through the mirror.
He didn't always have the voice, but he couldn't remember a time when he was alone, either. Every time he looked in that mirror, he remembered only the voice. The voice desperately hated, but the only one who knew him, ad his secrets. Why he shivered in the dark, or threw himself against the wall. The one that separated him from...
What, exactly? He didn't know what was on the other side. He only knew the voice wouldn't let him leave.
It was his only choice. He had to get rid of it.
A sudden flash of rage blinded him, and he reached for the mirror. The glass cracked and the metal dented as it hit the table again and again. Shards of glass flew everywhere. He threw the mirror against the wall.
The voice was still there, calling out over the violence and demanding he stop, but... He didn't. No, the voice needed to disappear. Desperate to shut it up, he screamed as loud as his scratchy unused voice would allow. Nothing would drown it out.
Finally he collapsed on the floor and curled into a ball, shuddering.
The voice had won once again.
Watching this entire spectacle from an observation box, the administrator smiled. He was turning out just the way she needed him.
"Tell the Dustbowl team to expect a new medic. I think it's about time we recycle our old BLUs."
(A look inside Alois's mind before he is sent to Dustbowl as a Medic. Silly thing was already insane and he agreed to let the Administator screw with his brain xD
Well, not that he consented. or will remember.)