Part IV

***


At present, I'm not in my usual cold and cosy cell.
I'm in a more hospital like room, in a clean bed, bruised from top to toe.

Crawford's little 'test' appeared to be the most interesting thing that has happened in the last two years, after stabbing a nurse at the asylum with a fork.
I have really enjoyed myself recently.

You see, when you've been spending half your life in an empty cell that has been the only area you've known for the last eternity, you get a 'slight' desire to get out.

You also, get the most unbearable need to do something - anything. Like chewing on the collar of the straightjacket, cut yourself with a knife, whatever, anything for the attention. Anything to focus on for a while.
A desire to do something just to assure your existance, like you haven't been for a long, long time.

When you've been locked up in an undescribable small cell, with no windows, no furniture and no light, you go slightly mad.

Just try for yourself if you do not believe me.

No food.

No light.

No warm and cosy bed to sleep in.

No one to talk to.

It's just emty, and the emptyness drive you mad. Because it can't be cured by medecine, only by company. And there is no one there to save you. Because you're the only one.

'One' is a fucking lonely number. I've never liked that number. It sounds so flat and miserable. But I've never known anything else. Just one, one, one...

One, one, one, one, one, one, one.... fucking tragic number. But it's quite logic. You don't have to think about much else.
Just one, one, one, one, one, one, one... lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely...

Well, just watch me. The perfect result of six years at the asylum.
The pathetic fuck I am, haven't even known anything else than fucking 'one' in six years!
It's almost ironic. If I wouldn't be so damn unable to I'd probably laugh.

As I said, I've been carrying out 'mr Cream Suit's' little 'test'.
I must say, it was fun. Oh yes it was very, very fun. I haven't had that much fun in a very long time.

I hope there's more tests waiting for me when I get out of here.
The whole meaning of the little game was to assure my 'imunity' to pain.
And the best thing about it is that, after so many years of the loss, desperate waiting, and unsatisfied desire, I could hurt him. I got a chance to hurt him - the laughing bastard in the sky.

I finally got to bleed for him, ease my pain and spit him in the face.

I wonder if Crawford got prove enough out of it? I hope not, that must mean more killing, right? More tests, more knives.
I think I'm starting to enjoy this, if only a little.

As long as I'll be able to do something, most likely kill - I will not complain. I'll be their nice little 'imune-to-pain' doll as long as they feed me right.

I love the way they watched me. Their wide open eyes glistening of fear. So pure and innocent. So lovely.

They actuallt feared me. The looked at me and saw the coldblooded berserker haunting them asleep. I'm proud of them, they gave just made my day and I want to thank them.

And I want more.

I need it.

The slightest scent of blood and I'll go berserk again. Crawford knows that already. He knew it all along. I don't think he was ever doubting me. He's the very same himself. He can see the future, his colleague is a mind reader, why wouldn't I be unable to feel pain?

Somehow, it's pathetic.

Why should we work for that Takatori guy if all he's got is money? Who needs money if they got the ability to see the future? Read the concealed ace in your sleeve?

It's one of the many things I still haven't figured out about this whole thing.

I stare up into the high, white celing and breath out slightly. What a maredream really. No time, no noise, no insects, no rules, no god, no people, no talkings, nothing. Just empty.
I long for the day the hourglass' has reached it's very last grain of sand. The day I pass time, I'll never be a step behind again.

It's strange, I should be scared.

I should be fucking panicing.

But I am calm, I'm just waiting. Inhaling the cold air and waiting. For there's no other way to beat it. There's no other way to reach it.