Disclaimer: I don't own DNAngel.
AN: Another implausible one-shot that I'm probably going to despise as soon as I post. Oh well. I thought of it while I was sweeping the basement floor.
They always say, "If a tree falls in the woods and there's no one around for miles, does it make a sound?". The definition of sound is the vibrating of the eardrum when the force of air hits it. If there is no eardrum nearby, then there would be no noise, right?
So this man thinks he is alone. He used to be a genius. He knows all about the vibration in the ears and the trees in the woods. He knows that being heard is the only proof that he's making any noise at all. If someone could hear him, then he would know he wasn't alone, but he's screaming and, technically, he's not making any noise. Nobody can hear him. His mouth opens and closes, but nobody hears him pleading - screaming - to be heard. The only way he knows he's even making any noise what-so-ever is the fact that he can hear himself.
Why can nobody her this genius? He thinks that it's because he's alone. He thinks that it's because he's isolated in his little room, and that he's screaming at the top of his lungs. Why does he think that? Because he can hear the cries, and no one else can.
In reality, I'm standing in front of his doorway, watching him. I can see him through the square of glass in the door. I had asked earlier what was wrong with him, and the nurse answered that he does this often. She told me that he used to be a genius. She told me that he was admitted two years ago, when his daughter died. She said that that had been what triggered his insanity in the first place.
I'm standing in front of this man's door, watching his mouth open and close in silent screams. In his head he can still hear his own voice screeching to be loved and comforted, he just has to move his lips to the words.
Why am I here? Because Father is visiting his incarcerated acquaintance in the building adjoining. I wasn't permitted to enter that actual room with him, so I …wandered. To me, it made perfect sense that a state prison and a mental institution would be connected. It may not be politically correct, but perhaps they've realized how similar the two are. The two are certainly similar to the man in front of me.
Father will be finished soon, and I turn to leave. All that could be gained from this experience has been gained, and there's nothing left to do but leave. But before I go, I can't help but think that it always seems that the desperate ones always scream the loudest; it's only a shame that it's only in their heads.