It didn't take long for the Mono to realise that the room was broken. He hadn't broken it, it didn't feel like it was succumbing to age, it was simply imperfect, and the longer he remained in the chair, the more obvious the imperfections became.
The imperfections seemed almost intentional at first. The occasional rumble of the room reminded him that The Flesh lay just out of sight. Sometimes the room would erupt in a brief but intense hissing sound and all he could see was loud, vicious static and it would hurt so much he would shut his eyes and cover his ears with his hands and will it to go away. But those imperfections were brief, surely a means to torment him. Why else would it occur, surely whoever made this place had designed it to make him suffer.
Then as more time passed, Mono realised he could hear things in the static. It was quiet, almost non-existent, but he heard music: high-pitched, childish singing. Idly he found himself humming the tune to himself as time went on, counting the minutes or hours (but never more than a day) between each bout of static. He tried to fill the time by learning the lyrics.
He came to love the song, swinging his legs while singing; "Having a nightmare in a boat; Come with me, oh no, no, no; He's gone, he's gone, he hung; Don't leave me, no more bellman among the sea.".
So, when the time came where the static no longer returned, where the world became four walls, the ceiling, the floor and a creaking chair and seconds stretched into hours and the beating of his heart was the only thing in his ears that became louder and louder and seemed to tick like a clock; he screamed and begged the world for something - ANYTHING.
Suddenly he hears a sharp crack behind him.
He turns on his chair to inspect the source and finds the wall of his prison holds a singular line - a crack. Curious, he hops off the chair, briefly noticing the fall to be slightly shorter than he anticipated. As he wanders closer to the crack, he becomes entranced by the weak sound of static behind the wall, pins and needles consuming all feeling in his hands. He presses an ear against it, there's definitely something behind it, there must be. His raises a hand towards the crack, and the feeling in his hands intensifies, they feel numb but as if they're humming with something - the same way static feels empty and full at the same time - everywhere and all consuming.
Mono blinks, just once and the crack in the wall disappears, the feeling in his hands is gone. All is as it was.
No, he thinks, despair running rampant through his mind, as he frantically looks around the room for any other cracks or signs of static, I need to know what that was… I NEED TO. Suddenly the humming flares up in his hands, they feel hot, prickly and when he looks at them… they're hard to see, obscured by some force of nature, as if it were from a memory that was difficult to recall, like something lost in… it didn't matter because it felt right, it felt more right than anything ever had in this room. He hardly knew what he was doing when he pushed his palm against the wall where the crack had been and felt the humming pulse through his body, rising through him from his feet to his palm, hot, white and buzzing throughout every fibre of his being. Around his distorted hand, the wall seemed to break away, loose pieces of brick and plaster fell to his feet and he could hear the wall rumble and feel the ground shake as The Flesh protested his actions. All of a sudden, the floor rippled and the room violently rocked, throwing Mono off of his feet, head colliding with the floor and —
When Mono comes to, his vision was blurred and swimming, making him feel nauseous, and his head throbs. He closes his eyes and clutches his head in a feeble attempt to mediate the pain that seemed to gather behind his eyes. What happened? Where was he? Had he gotten out?
After a few moments he places a hand on a wall next to him, using it to brace himself as he gingerly rose to his feet. Blinking groggily, he looks around. No, he had not escaped, not even close. He can barely see any damage, or any at all that wasn't localised on his own head… except, wait! Behind him - the crack on the wall had widened!
Mono quickly scrambles over to the widened crack, peering inside. He sees static, beautiful, glorious static, emanating the kind of hissing that was a song in itself.
He listens to the static in the wall for a while, he wasn't sure how long, long enough for the nausea to go away, long enough for the pain on his head to subside. He is enthralled with the sound of the static; he can't believe he ever used to hold such contempt towards it. As he listens and listens, he starts to hear a tune, not like the one before - which reminded him of running around, causing chaos - as he assumes he must have done in the past… this one felt different. It was the sound of a music box, a slow sombre tune… a tainted lullaby.
He doesn't like this song. It makes him sad and angry and makes his headache and nausea return and - it stops.
Because I wanted it to? he wondered. No matter, the song that made him inexplicably angry was gone and that's all that mattered.
He sighs, leaning back against the wall next to the crack, succumbing once again to the comforting sounds of static.
And it's all mine, he mused.