Antisepticeye Collection

Inside (An Antisepticeye Fanfic)

Anti?

He--I mean, he... Y'know, he's one of those... Those people that you just--

Y'know?

...no I suppose you don't....

Anti... He's someone you can't predict. You can't really describe him, can't pin him down, cause once you think you have him he's glitched and shifted into a new amalgam of putrescence and vileness. He's one of those special, special cases, the ones that are constantly moving, attention deficit and hyperactivity and then some all in the space of one infinitesimal being that spans the continuity of a singular second.

Doesn't make sense? Of course it doesn't. Because even in the span of time it's taken me to write this, Anti has changed it, altered it, to suit his own damn needs. He's taken what I wanted to say and manipulated it--he pulls his strings, the ones he swears aren't there.

"There are no strings on me"? Oh he wasn't wrong. He wasn't really lying either. See, he doesn't ever lie. He doesn't tell un-truths. He means precisely what he says in precisely the way he means it. There are no strings attached to him. At least, not ones that control. Him. He's safe from those strings.

Ever had piano wire and cotton twine slowly eke its way into your flesh and start to twine with the cords and sinews of your forearms, biceps, triceps? Ever have tendrils of thought and control start to slither into your mind, to pluck at synapses and twang on them like a discordant banjo?

No?

...but how do you know for sure?

You think about him a lot, don't you? Anti, that is. Oh yes. You're always thinking of him. Little things will remind you of him, A turn of phrase will make you think about how he'd react. Something small, happenstance, chance, and suddenly he's at the forefront of your thoughts and they're barren of whatever was there to begin with.

How do you know he isn't inside?

You might scoff and wave a dismissive hand because, hah, how the fuck would he be in your head? I'm sure that's what Chase thought too. The good Doctor was a bit more prepared, knew more about what he had to do to protect himself but... Well, he wasn't quite prepared enough now, was he?

So, how do you know? What, don't you think he'd make you think he wasn't there? He'd let you think your thoughts were your own. He'd take over slowly, quietly, but efficiently. Succinctly. Carefully. You wouldn't even notice. You'd feel that chill down your spine and chalk it up to a shiver. You'd see shapes and shadows and tell yourself it's just your mind playing tricks on you.

And it is. Because he's already in your mind. And he's starting to take over.

...how do you know you're you anymore?