Splattered Paint - Dan Howell

The Theory

Dan's P.O.V

As the doctor fed her small amounts of information about her life, her recovery seemed to be going amazing. In my eyes, she was beginning to look happy again. She was eating, her portions small, but she was still eating and due to the impact it had on her previously, she was no longer taking any medication. I really thought she was getting better, and she was, I could see the darkness around her eyes fading as she slept again. I could see the colour in her cheeks again due to eating again. But best of all, I could see her smile again, but only faintly. She wasn't one hundred percent healthy, but she was recovering steadily and I couldn't have been happier.

Darcy's P.O.V

After countless weeks in the hospital, it wasn't till now that I finally felt as if I were getting better. The doctor said I may even be able to leave in a week and I was becoming hopeful that finally I could get out of this place. Aside from the random pencils and paper on the desk that I kept using up, it was horribly boring. I felt isolated and after a lot of thinking it felt as if I were being tested, and watched.

It was constant, that eerie feeling of someone watching me. It wasn't exactly a secret though, the camera in the top corner on the room wasn't exactly hidden. But originally I had assumed it was there for basic security purposes, but it was starting to bother me.

After a few days I began to rest my theory. I would start by pretending to choke on my food, and see how long it would take for one of the doctors to burst through the door and assist me. One day as I cleaned myself in the bathroom using the cloths hung on the towel rack, I spent longer than usual and a doctor knocked on the door asking if I was okay.

I was being watched, continuously, and I felt like all my privacy was being invaded.

As for the feeling of being tested, after that week, the doctor still wouldn't let me leave. He said I wasn't ready. It had nearly been two months, or so I remember, and I had absolutely no memory of my past except the doctor. It was beginning to occur to me that maybe I had been here longer, and I had been heavily drugged and lost my memory of previously being there.

Then I started putting the pieces together and I realised what had been going on. I had been there for much longer than two months, and everything the doctor was telling me about my past was lies. It was all lies and they were testing me. They were watching me. They were playing with me and seeing what would happen. Imprisoning me. Messing with my mind.

It all made sense, and it explained everything. My theory was correct, in my eyes. But there wasn't much I could do about it. I couldn't escape, I couldn't do anything! Then I asked myself why I would want to escape if I have no life outside of this place and I have been here all my life.

 That same desire to exit my life was creeping upon me again, but this time I had a plan. This time I wasn't going to sit around. This time I was going to finally escape.

Escape everything.