Note: I dunno... But I gave 'Repo Man', Nathan's alter-ego, a weiiiird accent. Forgive me for such?
"Schizophrenia cannot be understood without understanding despair." –R. D. Laing
Nathan Wallace had once been a promising, young surGEN. He strived for educational success. He found his muse in life itself. It had been his own motivation that he would heal or fix as many patients as he could. The good fellow didn't want the residents of Sanitarium Island to share a similar fate to that of his parents and younger sister. Thus, he was dedicated to his medical occupation. Day after day. Transplant after transplant. He would save these people for he couldn't save the ones he loved.
Then, it happened again. Despair struck once more in Nathan's life. He had to make a difficult choice. It was not a matter of right or wrong, but one of life and death. His beloved wife was dying as was his daughter. Who would he save? Who could he save? That very evening his true love died and his daughter survived. Nathan Wallace was forced to become… The Night Surgeon. A Repo Man. A mask of horror. All of the names still hold their appeal.
The silver, once sterilized blade is now tainted. The blood slowly trickles to the dark pavement of the alley. The screams have died off long ago. The murderer, the doctor, looks down at his so-called patient, the delinquent. There is no remorse or pity for this lost soul. Now, he does not care. Had it been years ago, he would have been committed to saving this life.
Irony is as cruel and as bitter as fate. It sinks its claws deep into one's soul, turning that victim into a helpless marionette. A low laugh bubbles up from his mouth. It does not sound like the kind-hearted doctor he once was. No, it sounds like that of a monster.
It feels as if he is terribly distant. Nathan is locked away in his own mind, helpless, as the man outside controls him. He wants to escape, but knows that he cannot. He's the pitiable and pathetic one now.
The Repo Man walks away with the delivery within his grasp. The corpse is left to rot or to be desecrated by grave robbers, being the low-life dogs that they are. His steps are heavy thanks to the dark suit. Few people, presumably addicts, walk by him. The fear is in their eyes. They know who he is, what he is. He is the nightmare of their childhood. He is the wolf below their window, patiently waiting to strike.
"C'mon, Nate, get a hold of yourself. You're pathetic, ya know that?"
It's not him that speaks those sharp words. It is someone else; something else that manifests itself within him. Nathan feels a tingle run down his spine followed by an involuntary shudder. He purses his lips, yet no words come from his mouth. It's hopeless to fight against yourself. You always lose.
No, I'm not… Marni wouldn't have wanted this.
"Yer right, Bud. She wouldn't have. I'll say this time and time again, Nate. She's dead. She's never coming back. Ever."
He speaks so sharply as if he knows the world for all its cruelties, but does he? He should be a false persona that Nathan created to cope with the loss of his beloved. Somehow the Repo Man has become more than that. Every day, when he looks in the mirror, he sees a monster. It feels like he is losing a part of himself. A part of his humanity goes every day.
Time after time he has to remind himself that Marni is indeed dead. It's been twelve years now and he still cannot grasp the concept. It unnerves him. It leaves his soul at terrible unease. It leaves him to toss and turn at night, howling at the tortorous dreams. They will never leave his mind. Her very prescense still graces his tattered sanity.
Marni painted in red. Marni smiling. Marni laughing. Marni crying. Marni beckoning him forward. Dream after dream. He tosses and turns each night. He refuses to scream, however. He may cry, but he does not scream. He does not need his daughter to hear the pain he is in. It would worry her, trouble her, and even make her cry for reasons she can't quite grasp. This dual personality is correct. Marni is dead. What's dead doesn't have any business to remain alive even though he sees her in Shilo.
Nathan whimpers in frustration like a wounded dog. You don't know me. You don't understand me. You can't understand what I've been through. I created you. I can kill you. An inner war rips apart Nathan. It has occurred for twelve years now. He argues with himself and himself, alone, as he walks home. Blue-green orbs are full of grief, guilt, fear, and hate. It's an unhealthy dose of emotions.
"Tut, Nate. Tut, tut. I know you. I sure as Hell don't understand ya, but I very well know ya, Nate. I know what you are and who you are. Yer a monster as plain and simple as day. I mean, who the Hell kills their own wife for Pete's sake. Did you create me? Did you? Ask yourself that. Maybe I created you and I've been patiently biding my time, waiting for the night to take over. You can never kill me, Nate. If anybody's been doing the killing that'd be me 'round here. And the only person who could kill me would probably be your little girl," he laughs loudly as it echoes down the street for those who rest to hear.
Don't you ever mention my daughter. Do you hear me!? If you ever so touch her... Hurt her! God help me, I'll kill you! If I can't kill you, I'll kill myself before I hurt her! He snaps quickly to defense. He'll protect Shilo, keep her safe, no matter what the cost may be. Nathan curls his lip in disgust, fists clenching tightly until the knuckles look bleached. His body shudders not at the cold, but at the harshness of his own heart and of the battle within. He pauses in his thought process though he continues to walk. ...You say you know what it takes to break me, but do you? I'm already a broken man.
"...Heh," The Repo Man smirks as he gives a hearty chuckles.
Speechless, are we?
"Yeah, I guess you could say that. Guess ya could. You'll be surprised to find yourself dead one day, won't'cha, Nate?"
Nonsense! You speak utter nonsense!
"Whatever you say, Nate. Whatever you say..." The Repo Man quickly dissolves and disappears. No, he is not gone forever. It is merely temporary. Nathan knows he will be back. He does not know the exact time and he can't say for sure, but it may be sooner or later from now. Nathan opens the front door, wiping the blood and mud from his dark boots. The candlelight distracts him, leaving a glint to his glasses. He blinks once as he edges towards it much like a moth to a flame. It's his daughter with a book in her small grasp. She looks like she's dozing off. But how did she get...
"Shi? Shilo, honey?" His voice is soft, soothing, as he walks towards her. He rests a firm hand on her shoulder as he gives her a gentle nudge. She doesn't flinch, but moves slightly under the touch. Brown eyes slowly begin to open. They gaze hazily at the man above. A small smile edges onto her lips. She's sleepy.
"Daddy? I waited up for you... I was lonely and worried..." She yawns slightly.
"Oh, Shilo. I've told you time and time again that you shouldn't be awake at this hour. You know that I have to go to work no matter the time. It's important. Patients have the opportunity to die or live every day. What are you reading?" At first, he is angry. The anger dissolves upon seeing her tired expression. Oh, to be that young and innocent again. He can't help but to smile. Nathan notes the confusion on her face when he mentions the patients and their opportunity. She won't understand the meaning behind that for years to come.
"It's about insects and the different species."
"And what does 'species' mean again, Shi? I'm getting old, I forget these things!"
"Daaaaad!" She whines, giggling afterwards. Shilo puts on a serious expression in an attempt to act scholarly, "It's like the different types or categories they belong to. You can think of it like a family reunion and how everyone's going to be seated."
"Good girl," Nathan smoothes out her hair. With a sigh, "Alright. Time to get you to bed." She nods as he scoops her into his arms. Shilo yawns once more. He places her on the bed, pulling the covers over her frail, pale body. Nathan places a gentle kiss on her forehead, "Love you, Shi." She mutters the same before dozing off into a happy sleep with girlish dreaming. He gentle closes the door behind him, making his way back towards the living room. The holograms of Marni flickers as he passes by them.
Two dark eyes greet him. It's the mirror. Why does man have an infatuation with mirrors when it only displays outward appearance? Why, if man saw his true face within the looking glass, he would be horrified by the monster that he harbors. Nathan shakes his head at the mocking grin.
The Repo Man does his best to provoke, but to no avail. He steps forward, laughing maniacally at the tired man. Nathan merely sinks into his arm chair with a hand over his face. His chest heaves as he reaches for a book of sorts that he had been reading night after night to avoid the forever tedious dreaming. You can't escape sleep. Without it, all that breathes would be dead. His eyes scan the page that he had left out on.
Schizophrenia cannot be understood without understanding despair.
Nathan laughs. The tune is low and bitter as it fills his household.