Possible trigger warning: graphic self harm
I woke up... in my room? The last thing I remember is yelling at the top of my lungs at Dr Calais. I looked to my clock and it was 9:30 am. I'd been out since yesterday? Sitting up, I could see that Mark had cleaned my room a bit, taken out all the plates of food that had been there for God knows how long, taken my washing and I was wearing clean clothes? He washed me. I had a bandage on my right arm. I was confused and I had a right to be. I put my feet on the floor and got up, looking in the mirror. My beard was straggly and longer than I liked it being. My faded green was badly grown through, my eyes as dead as I remember. I heard running up the stairs and Mark came into my room, grabbing me and hugging me immediately.
" Thank God!" When he pulled away, he noticed the confused look that was plastered on my face. "What do you remember?"
"The last thing I remember was yelling at Dr Calais yesterday..." His face froze.
"But Jack..." He said, "That was weeks ago..."
Keeping him asleep had been my main job. After I yelled at his stupid fucking therapist, people came to restrain him. I'd locked the door to slow them down.
"Jack, please stop screaming!" She was scared. I'd missed making people scared. I pulled a pocket knife out of his hoodie pocket and opened it.
" He is weak" I said calmly. "Just like you, just like you all" Dr Calais was backing into a corner of her office. I pulled up the hoodie sleeve and took the knife to Jack's arm, making a deep vertical cut. The security burst in as I dropped the knife to the floor, she was crying. We were taken away to the mental ward, patched up and watched for a week. He had to eat during this time so I let him. I kept control for this whole time. Just before he woke up, I wiped his memory so that he wouldn't remember anything that happened.
I leant my head on Mark's shoulder as he told me what had happened. How I cut my own arm, screamed in a distorted voice, called myself... weak. It was him. He was getting stronger and stronger and I couldn't stop it. I regain the strength that I'd lost through starving. It was too late. Mark went to make me food and I looked around my room for a clean t-shirt. I was looking through one of my draws when my hand touched something cold. I fumbled through all the clothes to uncover a gun.
