Professor Layton and the Rewound Repercussions –Part 3—
On the third visit, Clive didn't say hello. He shuffled to his seat and sat down, a wilted husk of a youth. He looked across the glass with empty eyes.
"Good morning, Clive." The professor tried to hide his concern, unsuccessfully. Though the location had changed, the setup remained constant. He worried about the boy.
Clive opened his mouth and mumbled something inaudible. He shivered.
"Er—apologies, my boy. You'll have to speak up for me to hear you."
"Help me," Clive repeated. At an earlier time, he would have argued the professor's use of "my boy" when referring to his person. Now, though…it barely registered.
"What would you like me to do, Clive?" Layton asked gravely.
"Help me."
"How?"
"I don't…I…"
"If you elaborate, I may be able to help you."
"I…I can't. They're watching."
"Who are watching?" Layton prompted gently.
"They'll hurt me."
"Who will, Clive?"
Clive bit his lip, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he assumed the air he had once possessed. "The voices, professor. Who do you think? The staff here are always watching. It's worse than prison—much, much worse. Never plead insanity, professor, it isn't worth it."
The sudden change in attitude surprised the professor. Only moments ago, the boy had looked terrified and forlorn…yet now he was confident and composed. "Clive…"
Clive cleared his throat, embarrassed. "I…I am loathe to admit it, but…I'm frightened, professor. It's strange here. I feel myself slipping."
"Elaborate," the professor instructed once more.
"I…the methods they use here, no man can be cured. I feel like I'm the only sane one, and that's certainly saying something. The employees are sadistic and the 'clients'—the victims-are unable to defend themselves. I can't talk to anyone here, because they're either too far gone or they'll administer a stern beating just for the hell of it. I…I don't know what to do."
The professor held his hand over his mouth thoughtfully. "Yes…I see the predicament."
"I…I haven't even…it's the same, professor. The same, but worse." Clive slumped forward, hair shadowing his sallow face. His shoulders shook. He didn't care about being seen crying here. Hell, it was considered conspicuous to not be seen crying every often in this place. Some people never stopped. "I can't…I can't even…"
Layton pressed his hand against the glass. "We'll get you through this, Clive."
Slowly, ever so slowly, Clive reached out and placed his own skinny hand over the professor's. "I…I'm not strong enough for this, professor. I thought I was capable of anything, but…I was wrong. So very, very wrong."
"You are strong, Clive. Don't give up quite yet. I will see what can be done."
"They won't listen to you, professor. I did destroy a good portion of London, after all. This is my punishment. Punishment for…for taking all those…those lives, like what happened to me. I'm not better than the Prime Minister, or those scientists. I deserve this."
Layton shook his head. "You're very different from them, Clive."
"No, I'm the same. I…" Clive trailed off, forming a tight fist against the glass. "I…"
"I'll see what I can do, Clive. I won't leave you like this. I promise." At length, Layton stood. "And a true gentleman always keeps his promises."
"Thank you," Clive choked, though he knew it was useless. There was nothing the professor could do.
He was still alone.