Final Truth

Chapter 46: Choices

Peter's point of view:

I am a stranger in my own skin.

This body is not mine; it belonged to someone else that doesn't exist, no matter how much she wanted to believe otherwise. Julia was a fool, thinking that I could be saved.

A poor, wretched fool that took everything from me when she decided to sever any ties she had. I hate her and I hope...I hope...I...

She'll be back, right?

She can't leave me forever, no matter how much she wants to think that she can. She'll come back to me and I'll be snapped out of this psychotic stupor long enough to manipulate her again. It's what kept me from going insane before, and it'll get me out of it now.

But until then, I'll stay chained to the ground with my arms wrapped around my torso in an unyielding jacket of sorts, like I were giving myself a forced hug.

I rock back and forth, slowly, as I try unsuccessfully to get a grip on reality.

Your name is Peter. You are a monster, but that's okay. You are not responsible for what has happened to you.

"Not...not...my fa-ult," I try to tell myself, speech broken and hopeless. My voice sounds rougher than ever before, almost like gritty stones rubbing together while chipping at each other. Soon I, like those stones, will be so worn away that I won't serve a purpose anymore.

I throw my head back and cry out, body erupting in convulsive movements that won't stop no matter how much I want them to. Fresh, hot tears leave tracks down my face, and I try lapping at them with my tongue to soothe the fact that I haven't been given any water to drink in a very long time. But the tears do nothing, and it only makes me scream louder.

No one is going to help you, Peter. You have to calm down, or nothing will get better.

"I want...w-want out!" I shout desperately, absolutely loathing these stupid steel walls and my blurry reflection that can be seen in them. A cage is what I'm in, fitting for the animal I've become.

I even look like an animal, my hair a dull color and collecting in matts atop my head. My visage is the very opposite of healthy, skin pale and face hollow as I snarl at the person staring back at me. Red has quickly become my least favorite color, for it's all I see anymore.

Hatred courses through my veins, and for the first time, it's directed at myself: I shouldn't want to hurt people, and yet I do. I shouldn't have to apologize for what I am, but I still feel shame. I shouldn't have to hate myself for the faults of others.

I hope Julia can see me now, reduced to a mindless freak that understands nothing. I hope both she and Henley can see what they've done to me, hope that it rots them to their cores in the same way that it has me.

Wondering if someone really is watching, I slowly raise my eyes to the false wall on the left side of the room, realizing that there are usually people that can see me clear as day on the other side.

I'll know if someone's there; I always know.

But for now, I sense nothing, not being able to get a read on anyone's mind from beyond the wall. If anyone at all were watching me, I would've heard their thoughts. I'm alone.